BPC

Every year BYU holds its Business Plan Competition in which young entrepreneurs can pitch their ideas and get funding to get their ideas for new businesses off the ground.

Based on a dream I had last night, I think I've decided to enter myself.

You see, in my dream, I was with a few of my girl friends and we decided to go to a spa. Mani, pedi, facial, massage, awkward waxes, the whole shazam.

(ha! It wasn't until the second re-reading that I caught that and realized why it sounded funny. Because it's supposed to say "the whole shebang," that's why. I just had to leave it though.)

I have actually never been to a spa in real life (I have never gotten around to getting a professional pedicure even though I really want to!), and the anxiety I felt in my dream indicated that I had not done so in Dreamland either. Needless to say, I felt most nervous for the waxing and massage.

Anyway, we were all kind of lying there at the spa, "relaxing," likely with cucumber-covered eyes, as we waited for the masseuses to come in. Next thing I know, I bolt upright as the doors fly open and I hear this . . . chanting.

Take a chance, take a chance, take a take a chance chance.

Three ladies in white scrubs (and pink afros) prance in, singing along with the annoyingly delightful song from Mamma Mia. Turns out, they're a musical spa! The rhythm of the massage, of the wax strips being ripped off, of the pumice stone on my feet, all of it was choreographed perfectly to the singing and dancing of these kind of freaky spa people.

I remember just cracking up through the entire spa session and afterward praising their services to my family because I "had never truly recognized the highly relaxing and invigorating nature of laughing one's head off." (Direct quotation from Dream Katelyn right there, y'all. No lie.)

So my idea for a business is essentially that at each of these musical spas there would be a playlist of songs for each customer to choose from, and the staff would then perform a choreographed spa treatment routine to whichever song the customer chooses. The Vegas branch would be likely to attract customers who like to gamble, so they could even ask for an improv routine to a song they bring from home.

I would call it "Harmonispa."

The mission? To provide therapeutic beautification services in a lighthearted manner that uplifts the soul through the divine gifts of music and laughter.

And to create job opportunities for fine arts majors.

As the enterprise grows and develops, each location could specialize in a specific genre. For example, the one I went to in my dream would likely be called a Theatrispa, as it featured music from a musical theater production. For classical music lovers, we'd have the Symphonispa. There could be Spalternative, TechnoSpa, Hip-Spap, Spariachi, Spapera, Ska Spa, and my personal favorite, Spa Capella.

*I'm still working on names for spas that would specialize in the Motown, country, and rock genres. Suggestions are appreciated.

So there you have it, my idea for next year's Business Plan Competition. I even have catchy theme music to play as I pitch it. I'll just tell them to "Take a chance on me," and they won't be disappointed.

Graffiti

There's a graffiti application on facebook that I like to play around with when I have free time. Also when I do not actually have free time but feel like procrastinating moderately important things.

Here are just a few of the drawings I've done, mostly for my sister, over the past couple of years.

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We are huge Arthur fans!

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This one was for Jaz.

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This is likely the one I'm most proud of. Well, this one and the next.

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hehe

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Absolutely Busalooey.

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Pattie Cake

Today is my roommate Amy's birthday and I made her a cake! In fact, I made up the recipe as well. Oh, how creative I am.

It started when I was in the creamery getting stuff to make a cake and decided I did not want to make any ordinary cake. I was on the phone with my sister and had asked her to look up recipes for me, when I spotted the Andes mints on the candy aisle. Oh, how I wanted to make an Andes cake! But all the recipes she found required mint extract, which I could not find at the store. Plus Andes mints are expensive and I am poor, so I decided I'd go with peppermint patties instead. We couldn't find a recipe for a peppermint pattie cake either. So I decided to be adventurous and make one up myself! Unfortunately I did not have any batteries and could not take a picture, but I want to share the recipe anyway. It's very rich, but absolutely delectable with a glass of cold milk. We've determined that it would probably be really good frozen too. Feel free to play around with it and let me know how it goes!

First, preheat the oven to 325 degrees.

You will need:
1 box devils food cake mix
2 12-ounce bags small peppermint patties
1 container vanilla frosting
3 packages mint hot chocolate mix
milk


For the cake:
Mix cake according to instructions on box.
Pour half of the batter into a greased 9x13 in. pan.
Place 1 layer of peppermint patties on top of the batter.
Pour and spread the rest of the cake batter on top of the peppermint pattie layer.
Place in oven, bake for approximately 30 minutes (follow the instructions on the cake mix, but be sure to watch it in case it needs more or less time).

For the frosting:
Mix vanilla frosting with the hot chocolate mix. This will require the help of a little bit of milk, so use your judgment to determine how much or how little milk to add depending on what texture you want.
Melt 6 to 8 peppermint patties in the microwave for thirty seconds, stir them into the frosting.

Let the cake cool enough to frost it, and enjoy! You can also decorate the cake with some of the leftover peppermint patties. Crumble or cut them up, or whatever suits your fancy.

Just don't eat too much at one time. This is one you will definitely want to share with others.

Let me know how it turns out!

Everybody, everybody wants to love. Everybody, everybody wants to be loved.

Here's the thing. I'm not necessarily pleased with the state of my dating life (referring to its nonexistence), but I still find joy in the company of pleasant young men who are fun to talk with and be around. Especially this semester, I have learned to truly love my "just friends" relationships with guys. I say "especially this semester," because it is probably the first time I can honestly say that I probably wouldn't have time to date even if those opportunities were to arise. Therefore, the friendships I have formed and nurtured this semester have been fun, for the most part uplifting, and in general, a lot easier than many that I've had in the past.

Don't get me wrong; I have had my fair share of crushes and little flutters of hope that maybe something exciting could happen. But I haven't daydreamed or analyzed or let myself go crazy over too many things. Yes, it's happened occasionally, perhaps once a month or so, but even outside of the relationship realm, I have been working on looking at things objectively and letting go of things that really aren't a big deal. And I feel like I have been quite successful.

Truthfully, I feel like I have grown a lot these past few months because of that. Someday I will have a family of my own and there will be small conflicts and miscommunications that could get in the way of dealing with the things that are really important if I can't take a step back and evaluate the situation with an eternal perspective. It's a skill that is still going to take a lot more practice to hone it down to perfection, but I am happy for the opportunities I'm having to recognize this as a character trait I need to develop.

Anyway, that isn't really where I was going with this. So here goes.

Since I've tried to be more level-headed about boys, I've discovered something. Something I probably should have acknowledged a long time ago. In fact, they should teach it to us in school; that would have really helped me anyway.

You see, there are boys.
And there are girls.
Sure.

But mostly there are just humans. And we are all pretty much looking for the same things. We want success, happiness, friends, family, freedom, fun, and, for the sake of alliteration, french fries. But all in all, I would submit that the thing we want most is love (flove?). We want to love ourselves, we want to love others, and we want that love to be reciprocated. So why all this "boys are stupid" or "I hate girls" mess?

I mean, if I'm going around saying "I hate boys because they are so stupid" all the time, why would I ever expect any guy to want to take on the challenge of proving me wrong? People like happy people, and words like "hate" and "stupid" are not exactly happy words. The truth is, I do not think that boys are stupid at all. Sometimes they do stupid things, verdad. But since when do any of us live a life consisting of only smart or wise actions? I know I have certainly said and done my share of stupid things in regards to dating or . . . whatever.

Bottom line: Girl or boy, stupid or smart, we are constantly learning. Learning how to interact, communicate, interpret communication, etc. So what right would any of us have to expect perfect wisdom (and mind-reading abilities) from another, especially of the opposite sex, unless we, too, have gotten it all figured out? And I promise you that no matter what you think, you do not have it all figured out.

I just wish there were more understanding that calling boys stupid is just going to prime us to thinking that way about any male we meet that says or does something we don't like. I don't plan on husband bashing when I'm married, so why bash on men now?

Men, know that you are awesome!
. . . Then take me out on dates.

Need a little time to wake up.

Here's an acoustic (and slow) arrangement of the title song of Oasis's album (What's the Story) Morning Glory?

Let me know what ya think! The guitar is a little rough in a couple of places, but overall I'm fairly pleased with how it turned out. You'll learn in the middle that I can't scat for my life, but oh well. Enjoy!

There's a name that plays in my head like a song.

So in what little bit of spare time I've been having lately, I've enjoyed getting familiar with Garage Band. Yesterday I played around with "Just Pretend" by the Bens.

It's still really rough, but I couldn't really wait until it was finished to post it. I'm too excited! haha . . . This is the closest I've come to success with recording myself, and I intend to keep working on it and I'll post the finished product someday. Maybe over Thanksgiving I'll actually have time to work on it seriously? Anyway, enjoy!

Also, excuse the quality of my voice (or lack thereof) . . . Like I said, I was just playing around. Yes, my voice cracks a few times, the balance is off every now and again, and I obviously don't know how to cut off at the same time as my own self. Remember, this is NOT the finished product. :)

Also I'll be adding in more piano.

Ok enough explanation. Have at it.



Oh yeah, and I forgot to tell you, I'm pretty sure it will sound best with the volume all the way down.

And thus the creative juices were flowing . . .

A limerick I wrote this weekend:

There once was a chica named Katelyn
Who knew next to nothin' 'bout datin'.
But someday she'll have a man
With whom she'll hold hands,
And all the other girls'll be hatin'.

How appropriate.

Hi, reader(s). Meet today's perfect song. If you don't know why it's so appropriate for today, it's okay. I'll tell you when you're older.

Shawn Colvin One Small Year

One small year;
It's been an eternity.
It's taken all of me to get here.
The hands of time,
They pushed my down the street.
They swept me of my feet to this place
And I don't know my face.
Now all through the night I can pretend
The morning will make me whole again.
Then everyday I can begin
To wait for the night again.

One more tune
That will never be done;
It's just another one for the moon,
For the days in the ruin.
Just today I woke up feeling fine,
Like the world was mine;
I was clean,
And it was a dream.

Where out of the blue came you and me,
The Wizard of Oz has set us free.
You let me float you to your feet,
Just like you believed in me,
It's like you believed.

One small year.
I wonder where I've gone.
It shouldn't seem so long or so weird.
And I was always here.
It's just one small year.

Smells like teen spirit?

Today I smelled cigarette smoke for what must have been the first time in . . . well, a long time. And, despite the ensuing nausea, I couldn't help but smile. Because what does cigarette smoke in chilly autumn air smell like? Marching band season, that's what!

It smells like crying because of numb fingers. It smells like complaining of the stupid uniforms that were roasting hot in August and yet did nothing but make us colder in October-November. Also it smells like the thirty-year-old B.O. on those uniforms. It smells like step-one drills and lateral slides. It smells like laryngitis from yelling too much. It smells like dimes in the swear jar. It smells like teenage drama over battles for leadership. It smells like teenage drama over nothing.

It smells like not knowing anything about football. It smells like arguing with the cheerleaders. It smells like "Smoke on the Water" and "Final Countdown" and "The Hey Song." Also it smells like "Tequila."

But most of all it smells like storming the field when we get band of the day, fifteen people singing and listening to "Feliz Navidad" from one mp3 player and six splitters, daring each other to eat packs of Taco Bell's fire sauce, holding hands, laughing, crying, loving, and having some of the best times of our lives. Yes, that's right. To me, cigarette smoke in cold air smells like love. Go figure.

Becoming as little children

". . . Verily I say unto you, Except ye be converted, and become as little children, ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven."--Matthew 18:3

I think this is a wonderful scripture. I always love to hear the testimonies of young children, the simplicity and faith with which they understand even profound doctrines. Most children tend to be very teachable and humble. They know when they are loved, and they reciprocate that love pretty much unconditionally. I love to think of the Lord's needing us to be like little children.

Christ was considered the least among His people, yet was the greatest of all men to walk this earth. Likewise, I believe that children, though considered by some to be lesser beings than adults, can actually be some of our greatest examples. I think that many people take perhaps too much pride in being grown up and out of the innocence of childhood (this is a phenomenon we know as "taking oneself too seriously").

I love to be like a little child, and in more ways than one. But today I want to focus on one aspect of childhood specifically, and that is the singing of songs, namely Primary songs.

I have always loved Primary songs; one of the best (at least in my opinion) home videos of me is when I sing "Give, Said the Little Stream" in just about the thickest Southern accent you'll ever hear. Singing time was always my favorite part of Sunday, with the only exception being taking the Sacrament whenever we used Mama's sourdough bread for it.

Yes, I was a very spiritual child.

In all seriousness though, this past Sunday, we had a stake fireside. We piled a bunch of people into one of the rooms in the Wilk. We sang several songs from the Children's Songbook and the members of our Stake Presidency and their wives bore their testimonies to us about them.

Once again, I was very impressed and grateful for the simple truths of the gospel of Christ that are taught to us at such young ages. We sang many of my favorite songs, the words of which bear pure testimony of the Church, of our Prophets, and of our Savior. It was exactly what I needed. Which, in short, means that it made me an emotional mess, but it was worth it. We concluded with "I Am a Child of God," and the Spirit hit me with enormous force, testifying to the truth of those words. I am a daughter of God. He loves me, leads me, guides me, and wants me to be happy. I may get discouraged and downhearted when things take a turn for worse in my life, especially when they are things I know I can control. But He is always there to love and comfort me.

How could the Father show how much He loves us? He sent His Son, Jesus Christ, to suffer and die for us, but also to rise again and live for us! I know that to be true, and I love that truth. I love that I learned it as a child and, through humility like unto that of a child, I can remember it every day and live my life accordingly.

Golden slumbers fill your eyes. New blog posts await you when you rise.

Wow.

A little bit of explanation behind the last post.

I was up late doing homework (and apparently it was all Mama's fautl). I vaguely remember wanting to take a break to read some of my friends' recent blog updates and to maybe write a quick post myself, but this morning it all seemed like a dream to me. I do not even remember getting into my bed, but it must have happened since that is where I woke up.

Anyway, long story short, I blogged when I was half-asleep (though judging from the spelling and lack of coherence I was probably more like three-fourths asleep). I did not even realize what I had done until I ran into Mary right before phonetics class. That's when the first light bulb went off. I was pretty sure I remembered reading one of her posts, but, like I said, I thought it was a dream. She mentioned something about study abroad that triggered something in my brain, and she confirmed that she had in fact written a post about it. I couldn't really grasp the memory, though, so I went to go re-read it and see what it was all about. I get to blogger and I did remember reading it. But that was not what surprised me. You see, it said my blog was last published on September 23rd. I was so confused. But then I read what I had written, half asleep, in the middle of the night, and it all made sense, or as much sense as it could make. How pitiful I must have looked, sitting there with eyes drooping (or completely drooped. Who knows?) and hands weary and full of lead (especially when they were to press "e" and "r"), yet still typing away. . . .

And just for clarification, I should explain that a talk in Sacrament meeting on Sunday triggered the analysis of our apartment family. Those are the personalities we've assigned to one another. Rachel is the mother because she looks out for everyone. I'm the grandma because I look out for Rachel. Jazlyn is the dad because she always organizes the apartment meetings and such as that. Carolyn and Naomi are the "inseparable twins" because they're best friends and tend to stick together (Yvonne is what Jazlyn accidentally called Naomi for the first couple of weeks that she lived with us. The nickname stuck). And Amy is the rebellious teenager because. . . well, I don't know why. Probably because she never spends time with her grandma. :)

Even though it is kind of funny, it is also pretty embarrassing to see how ridiculous my mental processes are so late at night. This is good, solid evidence against the idea that staying up late is a good thing. I need a better sleeping schedule.

Chocolate Covered Cinnamon Bears

Today was a silly day. I woke up late anad got to work a little bit late and got home late and now I'm up late. Everything late. I think it's Mama's fautl for haivng me five days late. Even with my eight o'clock classssss I cna always make it on time. But only sometimes. Because like yesterday I randomly slept in until 20 minutes before I needed to leave.

I had an espanol test today that I didn't take because of, well, I didn't want to. I will take it tomorrow. Plus I'm taking a break from that homework to update on my life. I need to be better at it. Homework, that is. I'm having a good week but it is really tiring and stressful. That's why I eat chocolate.

I think that I try to be clever when I blog, but really I just talk a lot. Do you think I should not write as much when I do? I don't think people read all the way through it.

I love my roommates! We are like a family. We have worked on our scrpitrue study and prayeeeeer and we love each other. They're cool girls, except I usually am never home to do the dishes with them so I feel bad. But they always help me with everything. Rachel is going home nextw eek and I am jealous because I miss trees. But we ate fried ice cream flavored ice cream for Carolyn's birthday. She and Naomi (Yvonne) are twins. And Amy is a rebellious teenager. Jazlyn's the dad, Rachel is the mom, and I am the grandma. I'm not even old.

I am going to my first concert in 25 days! Ingrid Michaelson. I have to miss the ward talent show because of it though. But I think it is a worthy sacrifice.

I am excited for the VT workshop we're planning for next month. It is going to be wonderful and all.

A Small Something Sobre Sangre

Let it be known that I gave blood today.

Insert the word "almost" between "I" and "gave," and you've got yourself a true sentence.

You see, I am scared of needles. Terrified, even. Blood doesn't bother me, and getting shots and having blood drawn never even really hurt that bad to me, but the thought of having the needle in me has always been a source of uneasiness and fear. To demonstrate how poorly I've handled things like this in the past, here is an abridgment of my history with needles.

Chapter 1:

At ten years old, I had to have tubes put in my ears. This required anesthesia. But before they could anesthetize me, I needed an IV. But before they could put the IV in me, they had to give me a ton of laughing gas because I was so nervous I wouldn't hold still and I kept crying for Mama. I'm such a baby.

Chapter 2:

When I was a senior in high school, I had a small cyst on my thyroid. My sister had had one just like it, albeit larger, a few months before, and she was going to have to have a biopsy on hers (this was until it miraculously disappeared about a week before the surgery was scheduled. But that is a different story). In order to check mine out and make sure it was nothing serious, they wanted to do a CT scan. If you know anything about it (which I don't, except for that I had one), apparently it is good to have dye in your veins to highlight them so the doctors can see what is going on in there. The easiest process for this would have been to have me drink the dye over 24 hours or so, but they wanted to do it that day. So they got the grand idea of injecting the dye in my veins with needles.

Yes, I said "needles." Plural. And here is why.

I sat down in the chair with my left arm completely entrusted to the nurse, my right arm stretched out to be as far away from the needles as possible. Mama was there to hold my hand and I took advantage of that. So the nurse put the needle in me, and I thought, "Oh, that didn't hurt at all." But then she took one look at me and said, "Uh-oh," and then, to the other nurse, "Um, can we get this girl a stretcher?"

Apparently it even scared Mama. My face went completely white, lips all purple and stuff, and even though I wasn't in pain, my body freaked out about the needle. So they got me on a stretcher and waited for the saline solution to go up in my veins. And waited, and waited, and waited. My body didn't want to take it. Probably because it knew that needles are evil and that nothing good can come of them. Ha. No but really, it was all bunching up three or four inches above where they inserted the needle and just not going through.

So what did they do?

They tried the other arm.

Yeah, that's right. Two needles in one day. And it still didn't work! I was exhausted. They almost tried to do it again, but Mom asked if they actually needed the dye, and when they told her it could be done without it, she refused to let them put another one in me.

Now you see why I keep her. :)

Chapter 3:

The summer after my senior year I worked at a daycare. Before I started working there, I had to do all the background check stuff and get a TB test (I would have had to do drug testing too but Millie knew it wouldn't have been an issue. I love being LDS!).

You want to know the crazy thing? The TB test almost made me pass out! Just that little bitty thing! I hardly felt a thing when she did it. Right afterward, I felt fine. I said, "Oh. Is that it?" and she said yes, so Mama and I got up and walked on out. She was so proud of me. But about halfway to the car, I got really dizzy and had to sit down. So much for being brave.

So anyway, that's the "still really long even though it is abridged because I'm so long winded" version of my needle history. Hopefully I have adequately demonstrated why giving blood would be such a huge ordeal for me. But even with this crazy fear of needles, every time I walk by a blood drive in the Wilk, I cannot help but have this overwhelming desire to donate blood. I know there are so many people who need it, and I think it would be really cool to overcome my fear for such a noble cause!

I walked by it on Tuesday afternoon on my way home from work, and almost sat down and did it right then. But I decided I should come back when I had more time. So I called Jazlyn, told her I was going on Thursday, and asked her to come with me. She said she would. So I was preparing myself, talking myself into not being scared, going back and forth between being really excited and freaking out. I went to bed last night freaked out and sure that I was not going to even try. But when I woke up, I felt surprisingly calm and just like I really wanted to donate. While I still had that attitude, I figured it was best to go ahead and get on up to school. I even ate iron-fortified cereal out of my special bowl to pump me up for the day.

So I came up to school and filled out the paperwork, and when the guy took me back to take my blood pressure and stuff, he looked at the form and within seconds knew that I was disqualified.

You wanna know why? Because I got my ears pierced last October. And you have to wait a year after that. Apparently there is still some chance that it could be infected. Seriously though, about three more weeks will have been a year since the piercing. I couldn't believe it.

On the bright side, though, my blood pressure was excellent and my pulse was only a little bit high because of the nerves. And I still got snacks and the awesome t-shirt!

I'm going back in eight weeks when they're here next. And I *will* do it! I sat with Jazlyn as she had hers done, and I am pretty used to the idea now. I never thought I would say it, but I am actually looking forward to having that huge needle stuck in my arm in a few weeks.

I had a birthday, shout Hooray!

A lot has happened since the last time I posted; I have some catching up to do.

First of all, the attempt to go a whole day without talking with my hands was ruined in the first thirty minutes on my walk to school. I just couldn't do it.

Also, my birthday was on Sunday! I had a great day, except for the stomachache I had at the end because everyone provided birthday desserts instead of birthday meals. But you know what? It was worth it. I realized, yet again, that I am loved! I also discovered that people show me love through food, which is just too bad for my gut. But oh, that crème brulée. . . .

Yesterday, though, was the real party. At 2:00, we gathered at my apartment and eventually made our way up to Kiwanis Park to play some sports. We started out with Wiffle Ball, and then finished it up with football. The only problem is that I am really bad at sports. So why did I choose to play them on my birthday, even if I did get some sweet bruises to show off for it? Shouldn't I be doing something I'm good at, since I get all the attention on that day? Wouldn't you think that I would want to do anything besides embarrass myself?

Well here's the thing:
I don't care.

You see, I would have loved to have a Karaoke/Dance party for my birthday (not that I'm great at those, either), but I didn't want it to be all about me. Contrary to popular belief, I do not like to be the center of attention. I just about melted into the ground when they sang one of the Primary birthday songs to me at ward prayer (I never know what to do with my eyes!). But seriously, I wanted to do something that everyone who was coming would enjoy.

Also I knew no boys would come to my party if we danced ;)

We did have a miniature dance party at about 10 last night, though, so it satisfied that desire pretty well. But the main point is (and I realized this as I tried to make Scott understand why I find dancing such a wonderful thing) that it doesn't much matter what I'm doing, as long as I'm with people I love. And I certainly was surrounded by them yesterday.

I mean, I embarrassed myself and probably struck out three times in Wiffle Ball before I got a hit, but since I was the birthday girl, they didn't make all the rules apply to me. I figured it was a fair sacrifice. I make a fool of myself on my birthday, and they let me swing at the ball 20 times. Perfect.

I was extremely grateful for all my friends who spent basically the entire day with me yesterday. I felt loved and appreciated and special all day! So if you were a part of that and you're reading this, thank you so much. It certainly was a fantastic day to be alive.

Today, however, I am not doing too well. You see, last night we had FHE at the Cleggs' home again. And you'd think I would have learned my lesson and stopped jumping on the trampoline. But I guess I'm a glutton for pain (you may recall that I hyperextended my knee last time). That just left me a little bit sore for a couple of days. This time I may have done some more permanent damage, which scares me.

You see, I guess I just wanted to do something crazy. Probably on some level I thought more talent would come with age, so I tried to do a backflip. So much for the "wiser, too" part of being one year older.

You see, I had, after a few attempts, mastered the art of the front flip, and it was quite the rush! I was an adrenaline junkie. I wanted more. I needed more! So I tried the backflip. This kid in my ward, Andrew, is a gymnast and was kind of training me a little bit on how to make sure my head went back like it was supposed to, but when I tried it for real, it didn't actually happen. I landed on my neck with my feet behind my head, rear-end up in the air and all. Also I was about halfway off the trampoline. Andrew rushed over and as I lay on the ground his eyes got huge and he was like, "Are you okay?!" Poor thing, he looked scared to death. I had the wind knocked out of me for a minute so I just held up my finger and finally said, "Uh, I think so. . . One second." And then I could breathe again and all was well. My back actually felt really great. I'm always good at popping my lower back, but my upper back is always really tight. Well not anymore. I felt brand new, better than ever before last night. But scared out of my socks to try a backflip ever again. . . at least for a couple of months.

Anyway, I woke up this morning so stiff. If it is still hurting on Thursday I will probably go in and get it checked, just because I'm afraid I've made a huge mistake. It's a good thing my textbooks are all the size of small novels, or else I wouldn't have been able to carry my backpack today. I can't believe how much pain I am in.

Anyway, enough of the complaining; today and this week are going to be fabulous. I am determined to make it so! Plus I'm counting on the Lord to continue blessing me as abundantly as he has been these past two weeks especially. He has been looking out for me and guiding me in the direction I need to go. Now it is up to me to give up on my own sense of direction and rely on His.

I know He'll take care of me; I am His daughter and He loves me!

I fear crack-stepping. And it's nothing to do with drugs.

If you know me, you understand that the trip back to childhood is not as long as it is for most (I would say "for everyone else," but my ex-roommate Mary taught me that she's closer to childhood than I am).

I watch the Disney Channel, I love cartoons, Disney movies (I always ask for them on my birthdays and holidays. And all throughout May.), I know every line of The Little Rascals, I still sit on Mama's lap sometimes, I sleep with my teddy bear that I've had for almost 15 years (and I have no shame admitting that. Another childish attribute? I think so), I love coloring books, Red Rover, Duck Duck Goose, and naptime, and I don't step on the cracks.

Now that last childhood habit makes me chuckle, for I learned long ago through a frightening truth-or-dare experience that stepping on the cracks does not, in fact, break one's mother's back. On the other hand, sitting on her lap might do that some day. But at any rate, if this is the case, why do I still walk so awkwardly, taking extra big (or extra small) steps to avoid my foot's falling on a crack in the sidewalk? I'm sure I look ridiculous; I walk to school fairly quickly, yet even in the rush to get to class or work, I take the time to watch where my feet are in relation to the sidewalk cracks and adjust my steps accordingly.

Today I happened to walk behind a girl who I discovered to be a fellow fearer of crack-stepping For the purposes of this blog, we will call such people "Anti-Crackers."
. . . Actually we won't. Bad idea, sorry.

Anyway, as I paid attention to my own steps (which I made sure were perfectly synchronized with hers, and still matching the tempo of the song that was stuck in my head at the time--yes, I have a marching band geek still lodged in my soul), I realized that she, too, was adjusting every 3 or 4 steps to be long or small enough to avoid stepping on the cracks. I smiled to myself, happy that I'm not the only one who is quirky like that.

I thought about it the rest of my way to work, trying to assign some sort of meaning to it. Like, perhaps we do, on some level, feel like we are protecting our mothers from harm when we avoid those sidewalk cracks. I mean to say that we take absolute control of a situation that has been laid at our feet (at least that much is literal), hoping that by our perfection in such an insignificant matter, we may have the confidence necessary to influence and change something that is significant--for example, the well-being of our mothers' backs.

. . . But then I learned that sidewalk crack avoidance is a symptom of OCD.
And I suppose that makes some sense as well.

My life be like. . .

School started yesterday, and so far I've managed to make it to campus before 8 o'clock for two days in a row! Woot.

This is going to be a pretty difficult semester. I'm taking great classes that I know I'm going to love, but I'll have to work really hard. But I'm ready! . . . Not really, but I have to be since it's already here. So whatever. Bring it.

But the 8 AM classes aren't the only things challenging me this week.

You see, Jazlyn and I decided yesterday that I need to do a little experiment, which I will most likely perform tomorrow.

As we walked home from school yesterday, she stopped me in the middle of a story I was telling and said, "Katelyn, I want you to try and talk without using your hands."

I laughed, being the good-natured person that I am, and decided to give it a try.

I failed miserably.

Sure, I kept my hands unmoving by my side, but I could not get a coherent sentence out of my mouth for my life! I think I was just thinking about it too hard, but we'll see.

The plan is that tomorrow I will not use any form of hand gestures (this includes my black-girl snap, going on and brushing my shoulders off, and any other gestures meant to emphasize, aid in the speaking of, or form the shape of any words I say; the only exception is that we won't count waving to people against me). This may prove difficult, though, as I am contemplating adding an ASL class. I will record my success (or failure, whichever the case may be) in another post tomorrow or whenever I have the time. Wish me luck!

Counting Crows. Then kicking their rears.

This post is going to be about a little problem I've been dealing with today.

If you'd lived my life this weekend until today after church, you'd be saying, "What? Where's the problem? There's no problem! Katelyn, you have a wonderful life!" Because you see, that's all completely true, and I had a really great weekend full of happiness and fun. But you know, that is exactly why Satan decided to butt his way into my life this afternoon.

He nested in my hair and made it really unmanageable. Sometimes life's little frustrations like a bad hair day just make you lose your cool, you know?
He popped up on my face in the form of a huge zit that made me feel like the ugliest person on the planet.
He lounged on my shoulder all day, whispering first, then eventually shouting hurtful things into my ear. Things that people should never be deceived into believing about themselves.
And what's even worse, he even found his way into my heart a little, and made me want to be angry with people whom I actually love dearly.

I let him get to me quite a bit today. And though there are some things that I think I am justified in being sad or worried over, there's no reason or excuse for the extremity of all the negative emotions I harbored today.

To illustrate this problem (and my solution), I'd like to refer to one of my favorite movies, The Wiz. Toward the beginning of the movie, Diana Ross (Dorothy) meets Michael Jackson (the Scarecrow), who is discouraged and disheartened by the negative influence of the crows. He longs to come down from his perch, just for a little while, to see what it's like. They tell him his desires are foolish, and feed him a bunch of "bullpoopy" (that's in honor of my reading Love, Stargirl):

"You can't win, child.
You can't break even,
And you can't get out of the game."

Diana (er, Dorothy), walks up to the scarecrow and decides that she's going to help him get down. MJ has little to no confidence that he can do so successfully. He calls himself a "hopeless failure." And then Diana Ross speaks some of her most inspiring words (second only to her singing "If We Hold On Together" as Littlefoot's mama):

"You're just a product of some negative thinking. First thing we have to do is get rid of these crows."

So I'm taking it upon myself to do the following:
1: Identify all the "crows" in my life (What are the things that make me think negatively?)
2: Get rid of them. Give them the cold shoulder, forget that they exist, etc.
3: Put up an impenetrable force field so they can't get back in!
4: Always remember that God is my Father and that He loves me!

So, Satan, this is Goodbye.
You've got no bidness trying to ruin my life, so I hereby kick you out of it.
I've got happiness with my name on it. It's waiting for me; I've just gotta run claim it!

Go Away! Read Some Books!

This is my booklist for this summer. It includes books that I have read, am currently reading, or hope to finish in the next month before school starts up again ("x" marks the ones I've read; "c" stands for "currently reading." Or "cookies," which is good enough for me).

_x_Walk Two Moons by Sharon Creech

_x_Goose Girl by Shannon Hale

_x_The Wednesday Wars by Gary Schmidt

_x_The Angels of Morgan Hill by Donna Van Liere

_x_These is My Words by Nancy Turner

_x_The Last Lecture by Randy Pausch

_x_Their Eyes Were Watching God by Zora Neale Hurston

___The Five People You Meet in Heaven by Mitch Albom

___For One More Day by Mitch Albom

___The Pillars of the Earth by Ken Follett

_x_Left to Tell: Discovering God Amidst the Rwandan Holocaust by Immaculee Ilibagiza

_c_Out of Africa by Isak Denisen

___Three Against Hitler by Rudi Wobbe and Jerry Borrowman
_x_Stargirl by Jerry Spinelli
_x_Love, Stargirl by Jerry Spinelli

And maybe nine more books in less than a month is a lofty goal, but by golly I'm gonna try! Plus my computer got killed with a bazillion viruses, so I'll be spending less time on facebook and such (I've highjacked Mary's computer without her knowing so that I could do this. . . Shh! Don't tell!). Also, if I find more fun ones I might modify the list to include/exclude different ones. As I finish the books, I'll update this post and mark them in yellow. And once school starts my goal will be at least one book for fun each semester. Because I've enjoyed this too much; I don't want to forget how much I like reading ever again!

Also, I'm always up for suggestions for my lifetime booklist! Any and all recommendations (outside of anything containing material to which I am morally opposed) are welcome.

Wish me luck!

This town's always gonna think I'm a little crazy. . .

The journey that we will call "last week" began on Tuesday, when I went home from my last day at work for the week. I went home, thinking I was going to have to start packing to leave for Vernal, only to find out that we wouldn't be leaving until Wednesday morning. This was just fine with me, since I did not want to leave before going to Maddi's bridal shower, which consisted of our eating and hanging out at Red Robin (Yummm!). So the plan was for Brad and me to leave at about five or so in the morning and spend the day in Vernal, meeting up with my family (they left early Monday morning and were hoping to be in Vernal by Wednesday afternoon for Brad's and Natalie's endowment sessions), and just having a great time.

I had asked Mom to give me a call at about 4:45 in the morning so that I could pack up a couple more things before leaving around five. She did, and it was then that she told me they had been in a car accident. Everyone was fine, and it was truly a miracle that it turned out that way. The car was totaled, but they came away without even seat belt bruises. Because of a helpful bishop and loving family, they were able to make it to Vernal in time. Needless to say, I am very grateful for the safety with which they were blessed! I don't know what we did to deserve such a blessing, but I sure am glad for it. Even once I knew that they were safe, I couldn't go back to sleep (Brad and I decided to leave later on). I was upset, panicky, and extremely scared. But that was just my anxiety about car travel kicking in. And it was bad. Later on, I even came close to passing out (first time that's ever happened to me. . . ears ringing, head fuzzy, vision tunnelled, and all that mess. Luckily I was at my friend's apartment and she took care of me until I was okay haha). I was in pain because of some sort of stomach problem, but I think that in addition to the stress and anxiety it was all too much and I just about took a spill!

Anyway, Brad and I ended up leaving for Vernal early Wednesday afternoon. We made a few final preparations, spent some time with Natalie's family, and went to sleep (basically) ready for the big day. Thursday was a beautiful day, and it was such a wonderful thing to see my brother and sister-in-law so happy! I love them both and I am proud of them and the decisions they made. They have just begun an eternal family. What is there that's greater than that?

Kelsey and I stayed the night at my apartment and woke up ready to have some fun. We had made plans to go swimming and all sorts of fun stuff like that when Mama called and said we were going to Idaho. Since Uncle Glade's family hadn't been able to come down for the wedding, Daddy really wanted to be able to go up there and see them. So we did! We packed up our bags, piled into Aunt Gretta's Suburban, and went to Idaho for the weekend. It was so much fun to see everyone! Aunt Gretchen and Aunt Glynis were also there (with John and Sydney) and I got to see Melissa and Tyler and their kids again (I just barely met Tyler and the kids a few months ago). The highlights of that trip included seeing a baby screech owl (it fell from its nest and Uncle Glade has been trying to feed it and such), going to Lake Cleveland on Saturday (we roasted hot dogs, made s'mores, skipped rocks, etc.), visiting an elk farm (the best part of that was hearing Melissa's elk call), and sort of learning how to ride a RipStik!

I also renewed my friendship with my cousin Jared. He's eleven.
When he was a baby, we were best friends.
Nothing's really changed, except he talks a lot more.
He slept on me when I held him as a kid,
And he slept on me during church yesterday, too.
Slobbered on my dress a little bit.
And now we're going to be pen pals! He has to write me all about Tori, the girl he likes, and everything else that's going on in his life.

Also, we were looking through his notebook of drawings from Sacrament Meetings past, and one of them I noticed was really similar to some that my brothers used to draw. It was basically an entire destruction scene on one piece of paper. He had people falling into big pits, people falling into toilets, people being shot into vats of chemicals by huge guns, and helicopters and stuff in the air.
The funniest thing, though, was that one of the helicopters had, written on its side, "Squat Team."

That is why I love that boy.

All in all, despite the stress of the car accident, my feeling sick a lot of the weekend, and being totally worn out from everything, it was a great week! Now I'm just ready to spend some time at home with my roommates and the occasional family thing while my parents are still here.

Oh yes.

Here are just a few pictures of what I've been up to lately!

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Oquirrh Mountain Temple Open House

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Adam & Britni Wing's wedding reception

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Tie-Dyeing shirts, putt putt, and Go-Karts (my first experience with the latter)

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Hiking Mt. Timpanogos

My Favorite Things

I cleared up my facebook profile, but I didn't want to lose my list of favorite things (it just keeps getting longer as I discover more things that I like), so I decided to blog it.

So here it is, the by-no-means-comprehensive list of my favorite things.

the smell and feel of laundry right out of the dryer

Tarheel basketball (and BYU sports, of course)

Mama's Dinnerbell (the Hiatt family cookbook)

the smell of evergreen trees at Christmas

our chore chart with the sassy girl sticker

laying with my head at the foot of my bed

anything cinnamon flavored or scented
the Appalachian Mountains in the fall

Sacrament Meeting back scratches
hearing Southern accents in Utah

having my hair played with
my walk home from school

Grandma Tookie's kitchen

editing papers with Jazlyn

Mama's sourdough bread
having a clean apartment
getting letters in the mail

long sleeved tee shirts
having my feet tickled
Parley's voice change

the Spanish language

Mary's skinny mirror

NC thunderstorms

handsome men

being barefoot

holding hands

saltwater taffy
pretty voices

pretty faces

car dancing

high heels

polka dots

well water

campfires

chocolate

Latin pop

fireworks

flip flops

dancing

running

hiking

music

snow

life

Cinnamon life.

Back on Track

After re-reading that last post, I realized that I haven't actually blogged about love in a while. That was supposed to be the whole purpose of this thing, wasn't it? Probably I just get sidetracked sometimes and have funny stories to tell instead of just blogging about love. But really, when I am happy and laughing, isn't that what love is all about, too? In fact, I kind of like this one boy right now, and probably my favorite thing about him is that when he laughs, he means it. Like, even when maybe it's not that funny, he goes all out and throws his head back and turns his face red and everything. Everyone should laugh like that! This life is too short not to absolutely love it.

But anyway, for future reference, usually if I am blogging about something other than flat out love, it's because I just love the way life is.

Here are just a few things that have happened recently that let me know I'm loved:

1. People have told me.

2. I talked with Mama and Kelsey on the phone for a couple of hours the other night because I got a little homesick and lonely, and Kelsey started crying because she misses me. It made me cry, too.

3. I went to the Oquirrh Mountain Temple open house last week. It is absolutely beautiful. And, in the House of the Lord, I always feel His love for me so strongly. Especially in the Celestial Room and the Sealing Room, I felt so close to His Spirit and I know in my head and feel in my heart the truth of the Gospel.

¡Que maravillosa es amor!

Summer 2009! Where have you been all my life?

I just want to take a minute and ramble a little bit about how awesome last weekend was and this week has been and will be.

Friday we had the day off of work. So I lay out in the sun all day and swam and just had a great time. Plus I hardly got any sunburn (I've worked up a pretty decent tan for my fair-skinned self)!

And then Saturday, about 5:00, my roommates and a bunch of friends in our ward went and got food for a picnic and then took it to Rock Canyon Park so we could wait to watch the fireworks. We ate, played Wiffle Ball and Loaded Questions, some people played catch, some people rolled down the hill, some people played Texas Hold'em with Skittles as chips, and some people just sat there and talked with friends and had an awesome time. And when we watched the fireworks, even though they weren't that amazing because we were too far away for the noises to be loud enough, I got really nostalgic (I always do) and extremely grateful for everything in my life. Not just the freedoms we are granted in this country, not just my family, not just my friends, but even the bad stuff. Because that makes days like my day on Saturday even more fantastic.

And even when it took us an hour and a half to get home in all the traffic, it was a joyous experience because Mary rolled all the windows down and we played and sang music as loudly as we could. Everything from T-Swift to the Dixie Chicks to the Aladdin soundtrack. Really.

Sunday was also fabulous, as it was fast Sunday and the testimony meetings in my ward are always a treat. Plus, I got to pay tithing because I finally have an income! And especially after having been in three different temples within the last month, I am so grateful for that opportunity.

Monday morning I went running with Shelly (all the way to the MTC and back!) and then to work, and then to Brother Clegg's home for FHE. After eating the amazing food and talking with some good friends, I got to lose in Knock-Out a time or two . . . or five . . . and then jump on the trampoline (my favorite part was when Billy and I jumped off and landed spread-eagle on the ground and then Seth saw us and told us we looked dead). And then we started playing this game where it was probably actually called "King of the Tramp," but it turned into "See if anyone can knock Katelyn off of the trampoline." And I beat Colin, Adrian, Dan, Brother Clegg, and Scott. But then Cory beat me. But only because I hurt my knee kind of bad because I landed with stiff legs and then I was trying to be too aggressive and ended up kicking my own foot out from underneath myself. So, someday, there will be a re-match. And I will win.

Anyway, I'm really looking forward to the rest of this week, too! Tonight, Jazlyn and I are going to the temple, tomorrow is Mary's birthday party (Brick Oven and kickball!!!), Thursday we are babysitting Macey so Brother and Sister Griffiths can go out, Friday is Adam and Britni's reception, and Saturday we're hiking Timp! I should have some pretty amazing pictures to post once this week is over. I can't wait :)

Have I mentioned yet that I love summer?

Crock pot Lemon Chicken

So the dinner was a hit!
At least, I thought it was fabulous. And everyone else ate all of theirs, so I'll take the liberty to call it a "hit" if I want. :)

Here's the recipe! Try it. You'll like it.

Ingredients:
1 broiler-fryer,cut up, or about 3 1/2 pounds chicken pieces (I used 3 large chicken breasts, cut up into bite-size pieces. This was perfect for serving four people.)
1 teaspoon crumbled dry leaf oregano
2 cloves garlic, minced
2 tablespoons butter
1/2 cup water (I ended up adding more water so I'd have more juices for gravy, so you may want to go ahead and use an entire cup of water.)
3 tablespoons lemon juice
Salt and pepper

Preparation:Wash chicken; pat dry. Season chicken with salt and pepper. Sprinkle half of garlic and oregano over the chicken. Melt butter in frying pan and brown chicken on all sides. Transfer chicken to crockpot. Sprinkle with remaining oregano and garlic. Add water to slow cooker. Cover, cook on LOW (200°) for 7 to 8 hours. Add lemon juice last hour.

To make gravy:
Remove the juices from the crock pot, putting them in a small saucepan on medium heat. In a separate container, mix 1/2 cup cold water (very important that it's cold) with 1 tablespoon cornstarch. The cornstarch should dissolve completely.
Slowly pour some of the cornstarch mixture in with the chicken juices, stirring constantly.
*Important!* You will probably only use about half of the cornstarch mixture! The cornstarch will not start to thicken the gravy until it has been heated up, so be patient. When it reaches the desired thickness, remove from heat and serve (or turn stove down to low heat to keep it warm until ready to serve). The gravy is especially good over mashed potatoes.

Nauseated vs. Nauseous

This morning, I woke up at 5:30.
I did this willingly, because Jazlyn and I are cooking dinner tonight for our dear friends, Rob and Natalie. We decided we wanted to do something in the crock pot, since we both get home from work after five, and we set the dinner time for six so that Natalie can get back home by 7:30 for something she has to do this evening. I looked up crock pot recipes for chicken (it took me straight to "southern foods" on about.com . . . . What's that all about? Crock pots are pretty universal, I thought. Oh well), and found the one that had the fewest ingredients that we'd have to go buy, since we are both poor right now. We found a recipe for lemon chicken, and it sounded fantastic. Plus we had everything except for garlic and lemon juice (and wine or sherry, but it also said we could just use water. So that's what we did), and we were able to get garlic from our brothers! So Jazlyn went and grabbed some lemon juice from the grocery store, and we were all set for this morning.

Well, last night, Brad and Natalie (different Natalie from the one who's coming for dinner; this one's going to be my sister-in-law. The other one used to be my roommate and is now living in Spanish Fork with her parents) came over and hung out for a while. Brad worked on my computer and got some things running a bit faster, and told me how I could make it work even better, which, of course, means spending some money. But it will be worth it. Sometimes this dadgum thing can make me so frustrated!

Anyway, before they left, I was just sitting around, washing some dishes so we could have some juice, and I smelled something awful. I couldn't figure out what it was exactly (I knew I had smelled it before, but I couldn't place it), nor could I see where it could be coming from. Then Natalie came over and said, "There's something leaking from your fridge." Sure enough, I looked, and there was green juice seeping out from under the fridge.

Pickle juice.

Now, it kind of bugged me, but since I knew what it was it didn't smell so bad to me anymore. I cleaned up what mess was already on the floor, wrote a note telling my roommates what that stench was, and went to bed, figuring I'd clean up the remaining mess in the morning.

Well, I woke up this morning to start making the food, and I got near the fridge, only to smell the pickle juice again. I looked, and it had seeped out some more! And to this moment I still can't figure out where the source is; it doesn't look like it's coming from anywhere inside the fridge, because there's nothing dripped on the inside. It just looks like we had pickle juice in our pipes, so where water normally leaks, pickle juice is coming out instead.

Anyway, I was able to stomach that smell, but once I started preparing the food, I had to chop up the garlic. And get out some oregano. Now that I've been awake for a while, it all smells fantastic! But smelling it first thing as I woke up, it just turned my morning stomach like crazy. I seriously thought I was going to have to wake Jazlyn up and make her fix the food, because I could barely stand to smell all that at once. I wonder if that may be indicative of my vulnerability to morning sickness or intense sensitivity to smells when I'm pregnant someday? I hope not.

You know, I usually say that it hasn't been a good day if you haven't had one good miniature heart attack (the kind where someone jumps out and scares the poo out of you and then you get to laugh afterward, or situations similar to that. Just a good adrenaline rush or something), but I suppose surviving a strong wave of nausea could make it a day worth living too.

Which brings me to a small rant.

I don't know how many times I hear the word "nauseous" used improperly (in my opinion).

People say, "I feel nauseous."

Probably due to its being commonly used, "nauseous" seems to have become accepted as correct in that context. But do people realize that, when they say that, my mind makes me think that that person feels nasty? Like, maybe he or she smells really bad and could make someone feel nauseated if they got a whiff of him or her?

Nauseous is the word for things that make one feel nauseated. For example:

The smell of pickle juice, garlic, and oregano was nauseous to me.

vs.

I felt nauseated by the smell of pickle juice, garlic, and oregano.

So anyhow, I'm off the soapbox for today. Feel free to speak how you want, but know that I will feel free to interpret it how I want. :)

Also, if the food turns out any good, I'll blog with a link to the recipe.

Apology

Today I did something really horrible on accident.

I almost killed my roommate.

. . . Maybe that's a little dramatic, but I did hurt her.

I'll tell the story from the beginning.

It was a perfectly lovely day for a ward activity. It started with a cook-out (yes, "cook-out". . . . not a "barbecue") and chatting and hanging around. You know, good friendship-forming time and all. And then we went to the park to play some games. Someone brought a frisbee, we had a couple of footballs and stuff, but the most important thing is that every person was completely intact.

Until we started playing football.

I grew up with four older brothers, so I know how to be tough. I had to be, or else I could have gotten creamed when we played games! Or maybe I could have had the stuffing taken out of me, like my Raggedy Ann doll who made it on a special of Unsolved Mysteries, starring my brothers and the Sloop boys.

Anyway, when I play sports, I don't play with much skill. But what I lack in skill I make up for with aggression. Upon watching my playing sports, one would be likely to hear a lot of grunting, frustrated sighs, the occasional girly scream, and a whole lot of smack talk.

Ok maybe not a lot of smack talk.

But anyway, we're playing a really fun game of two-hand touch football. And that's supposed to be the harmless version of the game right? Well instead I just crave action and injury I suppose. As Colin passed the ball to Emily, I ran toward her so I'd be ready to tag her. At the same time, Mary was trying to run toward Shauna, who she was guarding. Next thing I know, Mary's face is in my shoulder, and we're both on the ground. I got up right away, but Mary did not. Turns out she hit her head on my shoulder pretty hard and bit a chunk out of her top lip at the same time. Her lip was bleeding, and I was afraid I had knocked a tooth out for a second! Luckily all her teeth are still perfect; she's doing pretty well, but slightly nauseated and a little loopy. Not that she's not always loopy, but. . . .

:) Just kidding, Mary.

Anyway, bottom line is, I'm sorry, Miss Carlisle. (I am for reeeal!)

Oh, and by the way, that was the second time that two 218ers have had head/shoulder collisions in the past three months (To read about the first time, go here).

Today is a day of gratitude!

The Lord loves, blesses, and looks out for His children!
He knows our needs, and He sees that they are met.
Sometimes we have to be patient,
But often, He fulfills those needs so far beyond our expectations.
And always, He uses our journey as an opportunity to teach us a little something else we need to know.
This is my testimony.

A small request

Sometimes, I just want to sit in Mama's lap and cry into her shirt sleeve. Or cuddle with my dog. Or even both at the same time.

Home would be really good right now, but it's not an option at the time.

If you read this, please know that I could really use your prayers!

Way to go, Idaho!

I took a day trip to Idaho with Mary today so she could pick up her new car!

Some of the highlights included:

1: seeing some of the flattest land I've ever seen in my life

2: having the old car break down in front of her Grandma's house

3: being Mary's emotional support when she had to drop a ton of money for all this car business

4: getting cussed at. . . haha Mary!

5: seeing the first Baptist church I've seen since Christmas break in North Carolina

It was a good day, but it was very long and I am exhausted!

And I know now that road trips on the east coast whip western road trips' tails. The scenery is much better.

Summerlife.

I officially declared the Linguistics major today!

I am really excited to finally have some semblance of direction with what I want to do with my life career-wise. I will probably minor in TESOL, which is Teaching English to Speakers of Other Languages. So I'll continue with my Spanish, maybe pick up another language or two along the way, and go from there! I am so happy to have finally found something that fascinates me AND that I'm pretty good at. Also, it helps that it isn't a competitive program (that's what turned me away from the music major. . . . It was not for me). Anyway, long story short, I may still be jobless, but I no longer have the "I don't even know what I'm going to do with my life" complaint on the list. I am so happy, and excited to see where this takes me.

Also, Jazlyn and I have been running.
I am no runner.
But now, I run.
And it's growing on me.
Mostly because I've seen improvement in myself, just in the few days that we've gone.

So step aside, skinny people!
Make some room; I'll be joining you soon.

For Mama

Mama,

Thank you.

Thank you for, well, everything. For life itself. For everything you've taught me-- how to sing, how to play piano, and especially how to love.

Thank you for all the joys I've been blessed to experience. For the opportunities I've had to go to school. For my talents that you've helped me develop. For driving on all the band trips (GO!!! . . . KATE!!!). For making my prom dress and for sewing sleeves on my drum major uniforms. For teaching me about modesty. For teaching me about the Gospel, that I am a daughter of a loving Heavenly Father. And also that I am the daughter of two loving parents here on earth who cared about me enough to pass on every bit of their social awkwardness so that I would not be married too young and I could stay with them a little longer. But really, thank you. Thank you for making our home the place where I have always wanted to be, because I know that it's the best. Thanks to you, of course.

Thank you for all the hugs, kisses, and "I love you"s. For all the laughing. For all the times I've cried to you (which never happens, you know). For the times you've cried to me and let me comfort you. And for all the times we've laughed so hard we cried, like the time we spoke in horse latin for hours on end, and realized the hilarity of laughing in horse latin. . . . halafa halafa halafa! And for becoming my best friend, especially when I had no others.

Thank you for falling asleep on the phone with me. Multiple times. Especially that time when we both fell asleep and didn't realize it until the next morning. That will always make for a good story :)

Thank you for always being patient. For the chuckles and good-natured eye-rolling whenever "Tratelyn" came over to play. A lot of people would never have been able to cope with such obnoxiosity.

(PS, I spell-checked that, and it's actually a word!!! Nice!)

Thank you for still letting me sit on your lap while you're at the computer, even though we've both been too old for that for a long time. And for the kisses on the cheek before bed, though I suppose no one is ever too old for that.

Thank you for being disappointed with me when I did stupid things; that let me know that you trusted me to do the right thing. Thank you for having faith in me and knocking some good sense into me when I needed it. Thank you for loving me no matter what silly things I've done.

Thank you most of all for teaching me through example about motherhood. I have always wanted to be a mother. Seriously, I do not remember a time that I have not had that desire. I know that this is because of you, because of the patience and faith and grace with which you have nurtured and supported our family. I remember being a kid and watching you eat a bowl of cereal, usually standing up with one leg crossed over the other, and I used to always try to imitate the way you would chop your spoon into your cereal to cover it with milk. I could never get it right! But I wanted so badly to do it just like you did. All I could ever do was stir it around, though. Maybe when I come home later this summer you can teach me?

Thank you for showing me, in a world that often diminishes the importance of families and of mothers, that it is a divine role, and that it is not only a responsibility, but an enormous blessing. Thank you, Mama! I love you so much.

Happy Mothers' Day!

Ain't much hollerin' for a one-legged ninjer.

So I am DONE with school until the end of August! I finally took my last test today and wrapped up the semester. And pretty successfully, I might add.

Hallelujah.

Also, Mama told me about the funniest YouTube video today.
West Virginia Ninja.
Warning: You might not find it very funny. I showed it to some of my friends and they just kind of shook their heads and chuckled, saying, "This is ridiculous. Ha."

I, on the other hand, laughed until I cried. . . . Multiple times. Hopefully some of you can get that same enjoyment out of it.

I still need a job, and I have tons of things I want to do (including making a trip up to Seattle to see Greg and Jayne). The only thing stopping me from all of it is money! Or the lack thereof. With luck (AKA "donations"), I'll be able to make that trip at some point this summer, though sooner would be better than later. We'll just have to see what happens.

Change is happening.
So quickly.
But I'm not scared of it like I sometimes have been in the past; I am actually really excited to see what this summer, my first summer away from home, has in store for me.

A few things have already been set into motion that I know will be working in my favor and blessing my life for quite a while. I am sincerely grateful for opportunities I have to learn about myself and to progress--to realize that others, especially my Father in Heaven and my Savior, Jesus Christ, see me in a better light than I often see myself. It's like I'm always looking at myself in fluorescent lighting, highlighting all my imperfections, while They see me in the perfect, glorious sunlight.
It's much more flattering.
Plus also, it's good for my attitude!
The sunshine (both literal and figurative) has been bringing so much joy to me as of late.

Long story short, I have a lot of goals for this summer and I am excited to meet my challenges! . . . Okay maybe I'm more excited about overcoming them, but here we go.

'Twill be fantastic, I'm sure!

Oh, one more thing. . .

Probably the highlight of my day was when I walked out of the testing center and smelled the honeysuckle bush blooming right outside of it! Makes me a little bit homesick, but still very happy.

How do you keep your feet on the ground When you know that you were born to fly?

Another incredible weekend!

Friday night I went to Salt Lake for my cousin Terry's wedding reception. It was so great! Plus my family is amazing and I am so glad I got to be there for such a happy time. It was like something you see in movies, where you just sit back and just watch everyone around you, and you take it all in, and the sound is very distant; you don't hear specific conversations or anything like that, but just the constant hum of conversation with the occasional laugh sticking out here and there as they throw back their heads in laughter. Beautiful.

Also, I caught his wife's bouquet. Well, sort of. You see, what actually happened is that she threw it really high and it hit the ceiling and showered rose petals everywhere, so at first I just got a handful of rose petals in my left hand. But then I turned to my right to see if anyone had caught it, and there it lay on the ground right beside of me. So, naturally, I picked it up and raised it, or the only two roses that were left of it, triumphantly in the air.

Fun stuff!

Saturday was great too, because I got to sleep late. Then my friend Jesse came over and we practiced the song we're singing for my ward talent show tomorrow. Then I did nothing for a while, and eventually I went over to Uncle John and Aunt Cynthia's house. We had dinner and birthday cake for Russell, and then we played Foosball and watched High School Musical 3. It was a blast!

Even though I slept in on Sunday a little bit, I still made it to church on time . . . well, during the opening prayer, but it was close. And we had really great meetings. I truly have a testimony of the reason we celebrate Easter, for the Atonement of Christ and His resurrection from the dead. I am really grateful for that knowledge and the joy it brings to my life.
After church, we went to the Bishop's house and he fed us some AMAZING food and we had a really great time socializing and easter-egg hunting. :)

I got home and then left about five minutes later to go to Aunt Janeen's. I always love going there! Matthew and Jared make my life worth living. They are such fun kids! Plus Jacob liked me a lot yesterday and he's so cute. So life is fantastic!

We played Curses, and for several minutes afterward I was having trouble not speaking like Scooby Doo, as this was the first Curse put on me. Rit ruz run, roe.

All in all, it was really a fantastic weekend! And I had a great day today too, and I only have one class to go to tomorrow. . . then finals, and SUMMER!!! Again, Life is good.

An Incredible Weekend!

This past weekend was General Conference.
I had the opportunity to go to the Sunday afternoon session with some friends (thanks for the tickets, Ty!). When we got up there right next to the Conference Center, there were (as always) the people protesting with their picket signs, etc. As we walked by one man, he said, "Now, I don't want to see any of you pretty young ladies marrying anyone like that Joe Smith!"
Well, sir, wherever you are, I want you to know that I intend to do just that! I intend to marry a man who is a man of God. A humble, loving, caring man who would be willing to give his life for the God that he knows and believes in. A man who loves his family dearly, receives revelation within his stewardship and recognizes those blessings as being from God. I know that Joseph Smith truly did restore the Church of Jesus Christ to the earth, and I know that he was an example of the Christ-like being we all ought to emulate. Because he followed the directions of the Lord and of the Spirit, I, along with 13,508,509 others, am able to partake of the healing, saving truths of the gospel of Jesus Christ. Because of his obedience and diligence, even until death, we are able to hear the words of prophets today and receive exactly God's will concerning what we are to do.
This is why General Conference is so incredible! The whole thing was amazing. The Spirit was very strong and I came out of it with a renewed testimony of the truth that we truly do have prophets and apostles who lead and guide the Church under the authority of God today. The words of peace and comfort and especially of encouragement were exactly what I needed. I especially enjoyed Elder Holland's talk about Christ's Atonement. I have an increased testimony of the Atonement and of temples and the power that this Church has as the true church, the one with God's authority and Priesthood restored in this last dispensation of the gospel. I know that I am so blessed to have been born in this time and that the Lord has a special purpose for me, for my being where I am at the time we're in, that I must discover and fulfill.
But what I know most of all is that God loves His children. He knows each of us personally and He knows our potential; He knows that we have the ability to return to and become like Him. I hope and pray that I can do what is necessary to become my best self, to fulfill that destiny and to please my Father in Heaven. He has blessed me with so much, and I know I am not nearly grateful enough. For my friends, for an eternal family, for the temple, for the gospel of Jesus Christ, for my opportunity to study at such an incredible university, for my talents and the opportunities to share them, for the chance to learn from other people and their talents, and for the small things that make me happy every day--for the sunshine, for perfect strangers who look me in the eye and smile on campus, for chocolate and polka dotted stuff, and for the basic comforts of this life. All these things and so many more, I know have come from the Lord's hand specifically to bless my life. He knows the things that bring me joy, and he wants me to feel that joy eternally. And by golly, I intend to do that too! His prophets and apostles have shown us the way to seek and be successful in finding that joy, and I will follow their words, for I know that they are inspired of God.

Pardon my blogarrhea. . .

Sorry for the long post, but if you read it all, I hope it's enjoyable. :)

Basically,
This week has been crazy!
After about two and a half weeks of working on my research paper, I finally got it done and turned in. Can I have some applause?

Thank you.

Anyway, I guess I have just been under constant, extreme stress, but I haven't been myself lately. I have either been a zombie or a studying freak all the time.
But.
I have accomplished a lot, and so I'm trying to remind myself of the success I'm having, even if sometimes it seems like I fail at everything I try.

This morning, I had to go to campus and take a test.
It was a Spanish test.
Nothing too crazy.
I could've taken it yesterday, but I needed some fun after school instead of more library time (I think I spent more time in the library on Wednesday and Thursday nights than I have the entire semester. . . or, year, even. I'm not a big fan of the library. Too quiet.)
Anyway, so I went to take it this morning. I also had cleaning checks this morning. And a service project to help a friend out a little before noon. So the original plan upon going to bed last night was to wake up at six thirty to clean, then shower and get ready, go to campus and take the test at about 9:30 so I could be home by 11 and be good to go.
Problem is, I woke up at 9:00 instead. And then got to campus at 9:30 (planning to fail my cleaning checks and do it for the re-check), only to remember that the humanities testing center doesn't even open until 10 on Saturdays.
I was kind of upset, after busting my rear to get there and take the test as soon as possible.
So I went to the elevator (because I didn't want to climb stairs in my bad mood) and as I pressed the button to go to the main floor, and right there on the panel beneath the emergency call button were printed these simple words:

"HELP IS ON THE WAY."

And maybe it's a bit cheesy and like something you'd read in the New Era,
But it really did brighten my day.
I just felt overall peace and comfort and just. . . you know, that feeling when you know it's all going to be okay.

And let me tell you, I studied for a little while, and my mind was so clear and I was just, not stressed at all. So nice! I took that test in thirty minutes. And then I went home, only to find out that my dear roommate Natalie had done my cleaning check for me! Definitely a huge blessing to me today. Thanks again, girl. :)

So the rest of the day was awesome, too. Kim's service project was so much fun! We got to play games with kids, and I was in charge of the parachute. . . I think I had more fun than the kids did. . . and then Sheridan and I played on the playground. And even though I couldn't climb up the slide backward, the effect of the static electricity on my hair made it worthwhile to try.

Then came probably the most awesome thing I've done in my life.
You know, it seems like I say that every time I do something else that's awesome. But I guess that's good. It means life keeps getting better.
Anyway,
a bunch of us went to the Festival of Colors at the Sri Sri Radha Krishna Temple in Spanish Fork. So aside from the whole "not being able to breathe (or see) for a couple of minutes" thing, as well as getting a sunburn only on my right side, it was awesome! I'm pretty sure I might still have some of the chalk powder in my hair, but it's cool. I've always wanted pink hair. . . And purple snot, too! Looks like my life has been fulfilled by one day of fun.

So, after the most colorful shower of my life, I changed into my favorite polka-dotted pajama pants and my piggly wiggly t-shirt and cuddled up with my blanket on the couch to eat saltwater taffy and watch a movie with my roommate.

That right there, y'all, is proof that life really is good.