About a Girl

Letters to no one...

2012-01-10T13:20:00.000-07:00

Dear new cafe here in the business school,

Chicken noodle, minestrone, tomato basil, potato leak and veggie are all types of soups. What's that you say? Chili is missing? No. No, it's not. Because chili is not a soup. PUHLEASE learn the difference and quick. It's cold and I want soup.

Sincerely,
A soup-less and slightly grouchy administrative assistant

Dear Union,
Thanks for having a chicken Caesar salad for me. And for giving me the chance to run into Tracey. It made the freezing cold walk back to the b school worth it.

Love,
A FINALLY sated girl

Dearest, darlingest Diet Coke,
You and me, baby. Furrrrever.

All my love,
A girl that would marry you if it were socially acceptable

Dear snow,
I know that you and I have had a love-hate relationship since my return from sunny Southern California nearly four years ago, but (and don't take this the wrong way) could you hurry up and make an appearance around these parts? It's not that I actually want you around; what with all the slushing up my drive to work and constantly putting me in mortal danger when I leave the safety of my house to do something so simple as a run to the grocery store; but I live in this thing called a desert and we kinda need you in order to make it though the summer.

Impatiently yours,
The short girl who hates it when you get her pants wet but is willing to sacrifice for the good of the many

Dear Tuesday,
I appreciate the time and energy that you've put forward to be more awesome than Monday. Just know that you efforts have been noted and are greatly appreciated.

Cordially yours,
A fellow Monday hater

A rant and a resolution or four...

2012-01-01T01:50:00.001-07:00

To be perfectly honest? I usually find that New Years' Eve is a waste of some well done make up and a carefully chosen outfit. I spend half the night worrying that I have lipstick on my teeth and the other half checking the clock to see if it's time to go home and take my shoes off. (I NEVER walk around random places barefoot. The only exception? My little brother's wedding. I wore 5 inch heels all day. My poor little Hobbit feets were screaming in pain by the end of the reception. That's when I did what any reasonable, sane adult type person would do: I took off those instruments of torture and ran across the parking lot shoe-less; all the while whimpering that my feet were getting dirty. I then promptly washed my now dirty feet when I returned home. But I digress). Don't get me wrong: I've got great friends and we do fun things, but when looked at objectively; New Years' Eve is just another night where most people drink too much and make out in a public place, both of which are socially acceptable on that date. It's also encouraged to throw paper at people and walk around with glitter in your hair; though I suppose those could be considered points in the pro column for New Years', as I like to do both on a regular basis.The only worth while part of the whole business is the resolutions. I love making New Years' resolutions. Usually, I go crazy and try to find a million things that I want to improve; but then end up forgetting about all of the goals that stress me out by February. One year, I even made a goal to make fewer goals, but you can probably guess how well that turned out. So, in a real effort to make some adjustments, I decided that I'd make a few simple goals this year. Are you ready? Hold on to your hats:

A) Go to bed by 11 pm. (I know. I'm getting old. Don't judge me! It just makes getting up at quarter to 7 so much easier).
2) Read more, watch less TV (so as to cut down on the massive pile of unread books currently taking up space on my nightstand. I've already finished one. Seven thousand to go).
Thirdly) Go running three times a week. (Because to be honest? I loathe running. If I tell myself I must go every day then I get stressed that I'm not doing enough. The number three sounded about right.)
Cuatro) Do something unexpected. This has already been fulfilled. Wanna see?

Since I fulfilled resolution cuatro on the second day of the year, I thought it only fair to add one more. (And before you ask, no, my hair is not in a ponytail). I like round numbers.
So number five) Quit biting my nails. It's a wretched nervous habit and it must end now!

So there you have it, my dear friends. A rant and a resolution...or four.

Stay classy.

M

Everything I Need to Know about Life I Learned from Buddy the Elf...

2011-12-04T09:43:00.001-07:00

What? You really think that Buddy does't have some great life lessons to share? Here is where I prove you wrong, my dear friends. WRONG. Because, really, everything you need to know about life, you can learn from Buddy the Elf.

*It's always appropriate to ask someone's favorite color when answering the phone.

*The yellow ones don't stop.

*When walking across a busy street at a crosswalk, one should step on the white lines only. The black spaces are poison.

*Passion fruit spray, while sounding like it might, does not, in fact, taste good.

*Taking off your tights in the kitchen is never a good idea.

*To get to New York City from the North Pole, one must pass through the Seven Levels of the Candy Cane Forest, then the Sea of Swirly Twirly Gumdrops and eventually come out through the Lincoln Tunnel.

*Santa does not smell like beef and cheese.

*Syrup is a wonderful addition to any meal as well as being a great gift for that hard to buy for someone.

*The four main food groups are: candy, candy canes, candy corn and syrup.

*Having an elf on your side during a snowball fight is always a good idea.

*Really ginormous toilets are cause for great excitement.

*When in doubt, add more paper snowflakes.

*All serious lists and messages are written on an Etch-a-Sketch.

*Also, Light Brights are an essential part of true Christmas decoration.

*Good pick-up lines include:

-"Deb, you have such a pretty face you should be on a Christmas card."

- "I think you're really beautiful and I feel really warm when I'm around you and my tongue swells up."

*Asking to pick snowberries when one is in the middle of an existential crisis will only get you a "Not now Artic Puffin!"

*Francisco is fun to say.

*Whispering is fun and smiling should always be your favorite.

*Always end the day with a snuggle or a tickle fight.

*Only 8 cookies fit in the VCR.

*South Pole elves are mean.

*Fingers can have heart beats.

And last but not least (now say it with me):

*The best way to spread Christmas cheer is singing loud for all to hear.

Top 10 Reasons I'm Sick of Being Sick...

2011-12-01T20:41:00.000-07:00

Have you wondered where I've been? All two of you that actually check this blog looking for updates. I know you've been concerned for my safety. I think I even heard whisperings of a search party being sent out on my behalf; but fear not, good readers, this blogger is alive and mostly well. That's right. I've got my second case of the plague in three short weeks. Since I love to make lists (and I'm bored stiff after spending 2 days in bed), here's a list of the top 10 reasons I know I'm sick of being sick.

10) I have spent approximately 10 hours pinning useless things on Pinterest.

9) I actually went through a whole gallon of orange juice. (I hate orange juice).

8)I watched all of He's Just Not That Into You, not just the parts with Alex and Gigi like I (or any sane person) normally do.

7) I actually took 2 days off of work to stay in bed.

6) I've been in bed before 10 pm for the last three nights.

5) I'm all caught up on every single TV show I watch and my DVR is completely clear.

4) I haven't cleaned my kitchen or vacuumed in three days.

3) I wore my pajamas to Noodles & Co. yesterday to get chicken noodle soup

2) I didn't even care when two overly quaffed, overly waxed and overly dressed guys pointed and laughed at my black and white snowflake pj pants and bright pink hoodie, which were paired with my brown slippers. Yup, I'm classy.

and reason number #1 that I'm sick of being sick:

1) I actually watched an entire season of NCIS and now a little bit bored with Gibbs & Co. It's not their fault, you see. But when a girl only leaves the house twice in a couple of days, she starts to feel like she's trapped inside. And then she gets bored with even the most exciting things.

So I beg of you, dear neglected readers, tell a girl something exciting.

(Also, I finally updated my quotes of the week. Be excited.)

Autumn Fallin'

2011-10-25T18:58:00.003-06:00

I say that it's high time for another playlist. What say ye, dear readers? Well since your responses will take to long to get and I'll probably be off doing something else super exciting, I'm going to just give it to you, free of requests. I know. I'm completely fantastic and I read your minds. Remember to send your gifts in the form of Diet Coke and chocolate chip cookies.

Mal's Autumn Fallin' Playlist

I Would Do Anything For You --Foster the People

Girls Like You -- The Naked and Famous
The Rhythm You Started --Sophie Madeleine

Anywhere with You --The Seventeens

Loves Who Uncover --The Little Ones

Some Kind of Wonderful --Michael Buble

The Weakest Shade of Blue -- Pernice Brothers

Good Habit --Benton Paul

Birds of a Feather -- The Rosenbergs

This city's A Mess (and that's the correct capitalization, believe it or not) -- Said The Whale

Skyline --The Spring Standards

My Love --the bird and the bee

Autumn Fallin' --Jaymay

So Here We Are --Bloc Party

Goodnight Moon --Said The Whale

In other news? It turns out that soy milk is not detrimental to the health of Casey the Computer. I *might* have been enjoying a little Life Cinnamon cereal the other night and my milk *might* have jumped out of the bowl while I was watching Psych and Casey the Computer *might* have gotten a soy milk bath. But so far? He's a trouper and is working like a charm. I knew he was a fighter.

I'm now off to see "Lady Macbeth" because I won free tickets in a drawing and who am I to turn down free tickets to a show?

Enjoy!!

Think of it as personality dialysis...

2011-10-16T22:27:00.000-06:00

So I just took this fun little personality test... this is link. How's about you take it and then post your results so I can see?! Yes, yes, I love this plan. Now go, dear readers!! (Kudos to this cutie who gave me the link!)

Conscientious

You feel it's important to work according to a plan and finish every task, to do things correctly and thoroughly.

You are not the kind of person who abandons a project before finishing it, or slacks off when you've lost interest.

Aesthetic

You appreciate art, beauty, and design; you know that they are not superficial but absolutely crucial to living the good life. You have good taste, and you're proud of it. Those with a high score on the "aesthetic" trait are often employed in literary or artistic professions, enjoy domestic activities — doing things around the house — and are enthusiastic about the arts, reading, and travel.

You don't think it's pretentious to be moved by art and beauty. You're not one of those who believe it doesn't matter what something looks like as long as it does its job.

Curious

You like to get to the bottom of things. You're not content knowing what someone did; you want to know why they did it.

You don't simply take things as they are and move on; you're not content skimming along on the surface; you don't feel you're wasting time by digging for the meaning of things.

Assertive

You behave in a confident and forceful manner, take charge of the situation, raise your hand in class, stand up for what you think is right, and lead others. Among those who have a high score on the "assertive" trait, many have jobs in which they are valued for their organizational skills as well as their talent for supervising others.

You are not interested in fading into the woodwork, leaving everything to fate, taking more time than necessary to accomplish a task, or avoiding confrontation.

Warm

You have a genuine interest in other people. You're a natural host, and are always thinking about how you can increase the happiness of those around you. When friends have problems or are in trouble, you're usually the first person they turn to for aid and comfort. Scoring high on the "warm" trait suggests that you are among those who enjoy domestic activities — doing things around the house — and are enthusiastic about charitable work, helping others, and making the world a better place.

You don't always say exactly what you're thinking; you don't like the idea of causing anyone pain because of your criticism.

Responsible

You fulfill your obligations and responsibilities, are true to your word, and generally obey the rules. While the majority of those who have a high score on the "responsible" trait enjoy traveling, they are usually very happy to return home — and don’t mind staying put for a while.

You're opposed to making hasty decisions, you don't insist that you're above the rules, nor do you feel compelled to color outside the lines.

Focused

You know how to lock in on what's important. You quickly prepare yourself for a task, you don't procrastinate, and you don't let up until the job is done to your satisfaction.

You are the opposite of scattered. You don't procrastinate before starting a task, and you almost never lose track of what you're doing.

Organized

You like to think a task through before you embark on it. If it's the slightest bit complicated, you make a list (even if it's only in your mind) and methodically work your way through it. When you have a goal in mind, you're not satisfied until you reach it.

You are not one of those people who ignore the details, and you don't understand how anyone can get anything accomplished without thoughtful planning ahead of time.

Optimistic

You are a "glass half-full" kind of person, always on the lookout for the silver lining. Your happiness is contagious, which is why others like to be around you.

You do not feel that the world is an intrinsically depressing place; you are not the kind of "realist" who thinks that only fools find joy in life.

Introspective

You like your own company; you're a very interesting person. Tracking your own mental processes, knowing what you're thinking and why you do what you do, is important to you. Often, what's going on in your mind is more compelling than what's going on outside. For the most part, those with a high score on the "introspective" trait enjoy reading, taking long walks, learning new things, and other solitary activities.

You are not someone who is constantly looking to be among a group of friends; you never feel bored when you are by yourself.

By way of an update....

2011-10-09T17:12:00.000-06:00

I am currently ignoring a huge pile of laundry. Clean laundry, mind you. I love clean laundry. It's sitting in a massive pile next to me on my recently vacuumed floor while I half pay attention to the first season of Castle (which I'm watching for the millionth time) while I casually eat Ben and Jerry's Cherry Garcia FroYo. And yes, I am picking out the chocolate fudge flakes. What is that look for? If you know me at all, you know that I always pick the chocolate chunks out of any ice cream (fine fine fine, froyo) that I eat. Where am I going with this? To be perfectly honest, no where. As I sit in my mostly clean bedroom, surrounded by lovely clean clothes, I have come to the realization that I'm pretty darn content with my life. When it comes down to it, who am I to complain? Sure, I could give you a long list of the things that aren't great in my life (please reference the opening lines of "Holding Out for a Hero" and take a gander at these pictures for two things that are pretty darn close to the top of the list). But why, may I ask, should I waste time being unhappy about things I have no control over? Remember the Roald Dahl book "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory"? Sidebar: Before you say anything, yes, I am totally pulling this from this talk, but whether you're Mormon or not, the concept completely applies to you, so don't stop reading. Remember how Willy Wonka, the crazy, slightly unhinged candy maker, hides five golden tickets in some of his candy bars and then announces to the world that whomever finds these special tickets wins not only a private tour of his factory, but a lifetime supply of chocolate? Written on each ticket is an identical message: "Greetings to you, the lucky finder of this Golden Ticket! Tremendous things are in store for you! Many wonderful surprises will delight, astonish and perplex you." In the book, (in the off chance that you haven't read it [shame on you] or seen either of the movies) people all over the world become obsessed with finding the Golden Tickets, buying up all the Wonka chocolate they can find, placing their future happiness on a game of chance. When the ticket is not to be found in their particular candy bar, the joy of the treat (and trust me, there is definitely joy in chocolate) is completely lost. The candy bar itself becomes a complete disappointment without the addition of the Golden Ticket. I think that so often we get fixated on our own "golden tickets" and forget the simple joy of the chocolate. Well, at least I do. There are so many things that I want to accomplish in my life. So many plans and goals. More often than I would like to admit, I get bogged down in how far out of my control some of my plans are that I forget to enjoy the "chocolate"; my friends, my job, my family, the incredible opportunities that I'm given on a regular basis. What, my dear readers, is the point of all this particular ramble? Simple: every now and then stop and enjoy the chocolate. You'll never be sorry that you did.

Something wonderful...

2011-10-04T09:13:00.001-06:00

Alright. I still stink as a blogger. But I'm going to make it up to you by having you read this. If you've read this blog for very long, you know that I adore Meg. She's fantatic and wonderful and amazing and I simply love her. (I was so lucky as to get to have lunch with her last summer when she was living in Utah. Be jealous.) Anyway, because I'm a horrible blogger, I give you the words of an incredible one to make up for it. Forgive me?

M

Mea culpa...

2011-09-24T23:12:00.001-06:00

Don't hate me. I know. It's been almost three weeks since I posted on my beloved blog. I know. I stink as a blogger. I'm REALLY sorry. Don't believe me? Well fine then. But it's true. Things in my neck of the woods have been busy lately. In a good way. You want to know what I've been up to? You sure? Alright. Here's my list:

What I, Mallorie Anne Mecham, have been doing instead of writing on my beloved blog:

*WORKING
*Going to Next to Normal at PTC (Um, it rocked my world).
*Getting an iPhone (his name is Captain Awesome)
*Hanging out at the Guild Store at Hale Centre Theatre
*Chillin' with my madre and my sisters
*Planning this chicky's bridal shower
*Hanging out with Very Special Agent Anthony DiNizzo and the crew of NCIS(how have I not been watching this show for years?!)
*Reading these books (SO good)
*Watching replays from the BYU/Utah game (A Utah man, sir! A Utah man am I! [Good heavens, my school song is so sexist!])
*Messing around on Instagram. (You should probably follow me. Because I'm a double dose of awesome.)
*Going to the symphony
*Drinking Pumpkin Smash Jamba Juices (Fall is back, my friends)
*Thinking about how I really need to write on my blog more often
*Pinteresting more than I should (I now need to be independently wealthy to afford all of the stuff that I am drooling over)
*Thinking that I should probably change up my blog design, but I have no idea how or what I want to do. (Hint hint...I'm open for suggestions)
*Reminding myself to love my neighbors (Freaking dog barking at 1 am....freaking power saw at 730 am on a Saturday. Who do these people think they are?!)
*Cleaning

And I'm now tapped out. But as you can see, I'm leading a very exciting life. :) I swear I'll try and do better...maybe. But only if you promise to comment on this very post and tell me how much you missed my sparkling wit and charming blog personality...

A passion for dead leaves...

2011-09-06T21:55:00.002-06:00

(Hey y'all, do me a favor and vote in my poll. I promise to send positive energy and lovely thoughts your way for each vote..)

If I could pick a season in which to live perpetually, it would be fall. I love everything about fall. I love the golden colors the sun creates as it filters through red, orange and yellow leaves. I love the tangy smell in the air when I wake up in the morning. (Have you ever noticed that each season has a smell? Well, it does. Let me enlighten you: spring smells clean, like wet dirt and freshly cut flowers. Summer smells warm, like newly cut grass and sun dried pavement. Fall smells tangy, like fallen leaves blown off the trees by the wind. Winter smells crisp, like falling snow on a quiet evening . Aren't you so glad that I called your attention to this? Thank me later.) I love the little bit of bite the air has to it. I love driving with my windows down and not melting in the kind of heat that can only have been created by Hades. (I know. It's not as bad as Texas or Arizona. That's why I don't live in those places. If I think Utah is too hot, imagine how miserable I'd be some place else.) I love any excuse to wear a chunky sweater and tights. I love boots. I love the feeling and sound of the crunchy brown leaves under my feet as I walk down the tree-lined streets of my little neighborhood. I know plenty of people like fall, but this complete passion and adoration for all things autumnal has been around as far back as my excellent memory takes me. I remember waking up in the morning during kindergarten and being unreasonably excited to walk to school. Not because I particularly cared for the walk, but because it gave me an excuse to traipse through large piles of leaves and take long deep breaths of that lovely tangy air. Yup, I was that kid. And you know what? I'm glad I haven't grown out of it.

Admit it...

2011-08-31T19:39:00.000-06:00

We all have guilty pleasures. Whether it's an occasional (or not so occasional) episode of The Bachelorette or a deep friend Snickers bar at the state fair once a year, you've got one. Most people don't publish theirs all over the internet because that's embarrassing and silly. I'll tell you right here and now: I happen to have multiple. And I happen to write about some of them on this here blog. So mine aren't such a secret, now are they? Anyway, I happen to be quite the music snob. You didn't know this? Yeah, we must not be very good friends. Pretty much everyone knows that I'm a music snob. I don't listen to the radio because I get sick of the same songs played ad nauseum. I love finding random obscure bands that not everyone has heard of. I was slightly disappointed when they started playing Adele on the radio because then everyone and their dog was obsessed and they'd never even heard her first album all the way through. See? I told you. I'm a music snob. But this music snob has a confession: I have a slight weakness for cheesy pop music. Wince. I know. So, dear readers, here you have my own personal guilty pleasures playlist for your enjoyment. I don't want to hear any mocking. I would welcome more suggestions though...

Your Love is My Drug-- Ke$ha
Baby-- Justin Beiber
I Want It That Way-- Backstreet Boys
Burnin' Up-- Jonas Brothers
Seniorita-- Justin Timberlake
No Air-- Chris Brown/Jordin Sparks
Single Ladies (Put A Ring On It)-- Beyonce
Like Wow!-- Leslie Carter
SOS--Rihanna
SuperGirl-- Krystal
Moment Like This-- Kelly Clarkson
Hot N Cold-- Katy Perry
Pretty Girl Rock-- Keri Hilson
It's Gonna Be Me-- NSYNC
One Less Lonely Girl-- Justin Beiber
Poster Girl-- Backstreet Boys
Shake It-- MetroStation
Kiss & Tell-- Selena Gomez and The Scene
See You Again-- Miley Cyrus
Spice Up Your Life-- Spice Girls
Disturbia-- Rihanna
Marry You-- Bruno Mars
Leavin'-- Jesse McCartney
Tik Tolk-- Ke$ha
California Gurls-- Katy Perry
In My Head-- Jason Derulo

A quote...

2011-08-24T12:28:00.000-06:00

Remember how I haven't had the plague in months? Remember how I was SO incredibly excited to realize this? Remember how Sara the Theatre Fairy and I were just commenting on how great it was that I hadn't been sick? And who comes down with the plague about 2:30 yesterday afternoon? You've got it right. This girl. This means that my energy is at an all time low so all I have for you, dear readers, is this brilliant quote:

Isn't that just a lovely thought? It also makes me want to burst out into "Do You Believe in Magic" by the Lovin' Spoonful, but I'll save your ears. Anyway, I'm off to create more Excel spreadsheets. Can I just say, I love getting paid to organize someone else's life? It's fab.

Loves!

A disclaimer and an epiphany...

2011-08-17T22:06:00.000-06:00

I'm going to start with a disclaimer. I know. It's un-ladylike, but I'm only ladylike when wearing a skirt and sometimes not even then, (as was clearly demonstrate the amazing climbing routine I performed at work yesterday while wearing a pencil skirt. I was organizing the stock room. Turns out? Getting myself on and off the chair was a little difficult. That'll teach me to wear a skirt to work), and right now I'm in a pair of ratty sweatpants and a t-shirt. (This has become my after-work uniform since I started at the business school. I think that means that I've officially reached the ripe old age of "adult"). Anyway, enough about my wardrobe and back to my disclaimer: I know. I haven't written in over a week. I know. I started a new job and haven't even said word one about it, except for the above mentioned acrobatics. I know. I'm letting you all down. I know that you've been waiting with baited breath to hear about my adventures into the land of the grown-up. But that's not the purpose of this post, I'm sorry to say. I will tell you this: I simply LOVE my job. It's not perfect, but it's perfect for me. I feel productive and happy, though I miss Amanda like crazy. No one at my new job talks about celebrity gossip with me or makes lists of reasons why Bono must be a vampire. I haven't even heard anyone say "totes". It depresses me a little tiny bit. Luckily, I became a big fat hypocrit and got Twitter (Let_sbehonest) so I can keep track of her life. I know. I know. Judge away. I deserve it. I'm judging myself. But we must press onward, dear readers. Onward to the point of this post.

When I was a freshman in college, I went on a truly awful spring break trip to Northern California. I don't blame the great state of California for this horrific vacation. No, I blame the "friends" with whom I went on this so-called "fun" road trip. I'll sum it up by telling you this: there are very few moments in my life where I literally wished that I could evaporate from the planet, leaving no trace of my former self and every single one of them happened on this trip. It was brutal. I remember chatting with a family friend about how absolutely painful this experience had been and she told me something that completely stuck with me: "You can never really know that you're ready to be attached to someone else forever until you're comfortable spending a Friday night or two alone." At the ripe old age of 18, that sounded completely ludicrous to me. Spend Friday night alone? Friday night was for parties with my friends. Late movies. Spontaneous sleepovers. Ice cream runs. Friday night meant no school in the morning which meant doing all sorts of crazy things until insane hours. I persisted in thinking this way until I was about 23. Don't ask my why, but this is when it all finally clicked: yes, I liked my friends. Yes, I enjoyed spending time with them, but in reality? If I wasn't able to spend an evening completely alone with myself how in heaven's name could I expect anyone else to? So I decided then and there that I was going to do it. I was going to hang out with myself more often. But this also presented it's own set of problems. Because, see, balance? Not always my strongest suit. (If you just started singing Aida to yourself, go ahead and add 10,000 cool points to your score card.) Ask anyone who's watched me trip over my own feet. The problem was this: I'm so awesome that I liked spending time with myself more than I liked spending time with most of humanity. (There are exceptions to this. You know exactly who you are. And if I've spent more than 15 minutes talking to you, you're one of the exceptions.) And now, you see, I'm so comfortable on my own that I don't really feel the need to go out and do a ton of socializing. It takes me all day to gear myself up for it. Believe it or not, it takes work to be the charming, bubbly and sassy self that y'all love so much. What this all really comes down to is that I'm admitting here and now that I'm a fake. A total fraud. I pretend to be this super outgoing person, but in reality? I'd rather be at home with a book and a wine glass full of Diet Coke. Yes. I drink Diet Coke out of a wine glass. It makes me feel fancy. In any case, I'm putting all this up here because I'm really trying to be more social-like. I swear on my books that I am. Yup, I really went there. That's how you know that I'm 110% serious.

"You know the one thing that grown-ups don't call themselves? Grown-ups. They call themselves adults."

2011-08-08T14:03:00.001-06:00

(Title courtesy of Lorelai Gilmore. She's brilliant.)

So remember how I didn't ever want to be a grown-up? Remember how I can't even stay dressed in the same outfit all day? Remember how I still watch the Disney Channel and how I listen to Selena Gomez? Remember how last night, when I heard a really weird noise in my house, I grabbed my cell phone and the scissors that were sitting on my night stand and walked around my house with the scissors in front of me like a weapon to be sure that there wasn't a rapist or a ghost hiding in my basement? Yes, I know that the scissors wouldn't have been helpful if there had been a ghost in my basement. I didn't have time to think clearly about the manner which would be best to protect me from a ghost. I'm sure 911 could have helped me with the ghost problem and the rapist wouldn't have stood a chance against my superior scissor skills. Anyway, the point of this little story is that I am clearly not a grown-up in any way, shape or form. But hold on to your hats, my dears, because guess who has two thumbs and just got herself a real grown-up job? That's right. This girl. Starting next Monday, I'll be a bona fide full-time employee of the David Eccles' School of Business at the University of Utah aka the secret government job that I had to have four interviews in order to be hired. I'm going to be working as an administrative assistant in the Career Services Center, which doesn't sound like a big deal, but trust me, it is. Mostly because I'm going to be doing it and anything I do is a big deal. Y'all have been reading my blog long enough to have learned that by now. Anyway, here's to being a grown-up. I have no idea how it'll work out. Stay tuned for updates...

I'm not in the mood...

2011-07-31T23:21:00.000-06:00

for a Monday. I know that I'm acting like a petulant four year old. I know that, as an adult, I need to pull up my imaginary bootstraps that those of older generations are forever referencing and get over the fact that Mondays happen. At least once a week or four times a month, depending on how you look at it. But to be honest? I'd rather just skip the whole affair all together. I hate pulling myself out of bed to take a shower and get ready for work. (To be honest? I hate pulling myself out of bed every day, but I reserve a special kind of loathing for Monday mornings.) I hate trying to convince myself, on Sunday night, that I don't mind going back to my regular work week. I heartily dislike feeling like I'm clearing cobwebs from my brain all day long. This Sunday I'm especially not loving the idea of Monday rolling around to take its place at the beginning of my week. Over the last seven days I've spent a lot of time with my mom and my sisters. Well, yes, if you must know, my brothers and my dad were there too. I mean, I like them a whole big lot, but you can't take pictures like this with brothers:

The answer you're looking for is no, you can't. In my experience, little brothers don't take kindly to red lipstick. See for yourself:

Whit got him on the forehead before she took the picture. Poor kid. He's too nice to physically move his sisters away from him as forcefully as Max or Cam would have. It sufficeth me to say that I had a completely fantastical week last week. Can you see why I don't want Monday to come? It means that I have to leave a simply lovely week behind and start one that just entails a whole lot of being at work and waiting around for a phone call about that secret government job that I mentioned a couple of posts ago. So, I must ask that if you find yourself with any spare time this week, you throw up a few extra prayers or some good karma on my behalf so I can get this job, okay?

Advice from The Bird Woman...

2011-07-28T01:41:00.002-06:00

(Have you ever read A Girl of the Limberlost? NO?! Oh the tragedy! Run, don't walk, to the library and find a copy. It's pure charm and wonderfulness. No, really. I swear to you. I'll forever be grateful that Shayla let me borrow her copy when I was about 13. This quote comes from one of my favorite characters, the Bird Woman. You'll just have to indulge in a little of the wonderfulness of the book to really discover who she is. I must add a special shout out to Amazon for reuniting me with this long lost love. Reunited and it feels so good. Yup, I went there.)

"What you are lies with you. If you are lazy, an accept your lot, you may live it. If you are willing to work, you can write your name anywhere you choose, among the only ones who live beyond the grave in this world, the people who write books that help, make exquisite music, carve statues, paint pictures and work for others. Never mind the calico dress, and the coarse shoes...before long you will hear yesterday's tormentors boasting that they were once classmates of yours."

Gene Stratton-Porter A Girl of the Limberlost pg. 27

A walk...

2011-07-21T21:46:00.000-06:00

Let it be known in the 'Verse that I'm not an outdoorsy girl. I don't do bugs. I don't do lots of dirt. I don't do small animals running around near me. And I most definitely don't do no showers. Call me a girly girl if you must. Call me prissy. I'll own up to it. I am, however, a outsidesy girl. I like walks. I like sunshine. I like swing sets. I like rain. I like flowers. I like wind in the trees. And I like that I get to walk back into my clean house with a ready shower. It's a win-win, really. Tonight I decided to go on a walk.

As a rule, I kind of hate summer. It's too hot. I dislike feeling as though I'm melting every second that I'm outside of my air conditioned house/car. Today had been a slightly stressful day. I had my fourth (yes, you read that right, fourth) interview for the same job up at the U. I mean, I get four interviews for the CIA, FBI, NSA or any other three letter organization. But really? Anyway, I decided that I needed a walk.

I chose Taylor Swift as the soundtrack for my little journey. Now put your astonished face away. I know I always go on and on about how much I hate country music, but Taylor, she speaks to me. So in my ears the headphones went and my little feets got to walking. I came to a conclusion: I either need a dog (I don't do animals, so this is big deal) or a boyfriend, because people looked at me funny as I bee-bopped down 8th East by my lonesome. That might have been because at one point I could not contain those feets of mine any longer and I started dancing. That's right, dancing. This shouldn't surprise you. Oh, you in the back? Thank you for asking. It was ballet. A few twirls and leaps never hurt anyone. Just after my display, I found a swing set. Which meant that I had to swing. It was an absolute necessity.

Yup. I took pictures of those feets of mine while I was swinging. Hence the blurry pictures. And it was only my cell phone camera. I'm not a big deal and I don't have an expensive camera. It was delightful. I had forgotten how much I love to swing. There's a type of freedom that comes from swinging. It throws me back to being a little kid. Even now, if I close my eyes, the whole world is open to me and I could be swinging off to anywhere. But it makes me dizzy, so closing my eyes isn't a good idea. Plus, I can't take blurry photos for your enjoyment with my peepers closed. So I did the swingings for a bit and then continued my mini-journey. And you know what? The sunlight coming through the trees right about sunset is magical. There isn't an expensive camera in the world that could properly capture it. I'm pretty sure that it could cure cancer or bring world peace. I felt perfectly content with life, even though there are plenty of things that I wish I could change, things that are out of my control entirely. But with that sunlight streaming through the trees? I could do anything. I could work miracles. So, dear readers, what is the moral of this post, you ask? Well simple: Go on a walk.

Excuses, excuses...

2011-07-20T11:37:00.002-06:00

(Taps on imaginary microphone) Testing 1, 2, 3... Is anyone still there? I wouldn't blame you if you weren't. I've been quite the blogging slacker, now haven't I? There's been good reason, I assure you. Would you like to hear the reasons or are you sick to death of excuses? To be perfectly honest, I don't care if you're sick to death of excuses. I'm going to tell you anyway. Now won't that be fun? (clears throat) Here we go.

Where I have been instead of writing on my blog:

*Driving to Cedar City for the Shakespeare Festival. This means that I spent three blissful days watching 6 plays only one of which I really hated. (Blech, Romeo and Juliet is not my thing. I blame it on being in jr. high when the Leo DiCaprio/Clare Danes/Baz Lurhmann version came out and every hormonal girl on the planet was completely enraptured with it. Okay, let's be honest, they were enraptured with Leo DiCaprio. Who has a tendency to die at the end of his movies. Which means that I found it to be silly and slightly ridiculous because my mom thought it was silly and slightly ridiculous.)

*Hanging out with the Stahelis. This means that I get teased more than normal (as I live alone and don't usually tease myself). It also means that I laugh more than normal. Which I love.

*Watching Harry Potter 7.2 and subsequently bawling my eyes out. DON'T JUDGE. I'm slightly attached to Harry. And Ron. And Hermione. And the Weasleys. (Oh Fred!) Sara and I ended up in each other's laps a couple of times. And it was delightful. I now have to go and re-read all of the books. Yes. Have to.

*Playing with Charisse. Why yes, she did visit me from London. And why yes, I loved it. Also, she brought me some awesome London-esque things. Like a "Mind the Gap" magnet for my fridge and a London Olympics key chain which I proudly use, as well as a dog. Yes. She brought me a dog all the way from London. He's meant to be a doorstop, but in actuality, he sits in the green chair in my room. (He's stuffed. And is made of out Union Jack fabric, which matches my "Keep Calm" poster.)

*Watching lots and lots of movies. Thor. Jane Eyre. The good parts version of the Toby Stephens Jane Eyre. Castle. Penelope. Gilmore Girls. Friday Night Lights.

*Reading. I re-read A Wrinkle in Time while I was in Cedar. I bought it from King's English right before I left and can I please just tell you what a treat that book is? I'd forgotten how much I adored it. I also read part of Quatrain, which is a series of short stores by Sharon Shinn who wrote one of my favorite books, Summers at Castle Aubrun. Read it. You will love it. Well, you will if you have any sense.

*Making thank you cards. I finally got all of my card making stuff from my padres' garage and that means making cards again. Which I have sorely missed.

Anyway, readers. This is a faithful accounting of all of my dealings for the past 10 days. I promise to try and be around more often.

M

Capri Suns, boom boxes, Boy Meets World, Yikes! erasers....

2011-07-08T12:25:00.005-06:00

I'm a 90s kid. I read the Babysitter's Club (and tried to start my own version, don't you little worry). I idolized Punky Brewster. I wore white platform tennis shoes with my over-sized overalls. I was in love with Cory Matthews. I know every word to the Fresh Prince of Bel-Air theme song. I desperately wanted a Trapper Keeper to hold my Lisa Frank folders. I drank Capri Suns like they were going out of style, the Wild Cherry was, is and always will be the best flavor. I learned that there were 9 planets in our solar system. I realize that I'm dating myself here, but what's a girl to do? Yesterday my mom brought a bunch of boxes up to my house which contained all of my childhood memories (elementary school to high school). It was Mallorie in a Box... okay, well like 4 boxes. My living room looked like an episode of Hoarders for a good three hours as I sorted through my life thus far. And if you know me, you know that I need a soundtrack to just about everything. Lucky for me, I have some help coming up with this one. There's this website called Turntable that allows you to play DJ with all your friends. And my co-worker decided that today was 90s day. How fitting! So without further ado....

Mallorie's Totally Awesome Ridiculously Cool and Completely Rockin' 90s Playlist:
Surgeon Generals' Warning: Extreme flashbacks, desires to act like an angst ridden teenager and permanent fixation of said songs in your head may accompany reading of/listening to this playlist. These emotional and mental conditions are not permanent or detrimental to your health. You have been fairly warned.

I Saw the Sign-Ace of Base
Waterfalls--TLC
Sunday Morning--No Doubt
Truly, Madly, Deeply--Savage Garden
Semi-Charmed Life--Third Eye Blind
She--Green Day
Bad Habit (edited)--The Offspring
Smells Like Teen Spirit--Nirvana
Loser--Beck
Never There--Cake
Black Hole Sun-- Soundgarden
Buddy Holly--Weezer
If You Could Only See--Tonic
3 AM--Matchbox 20
One Headlight--The Wallflowers
Mr. Jones-- Counting Crows
Losing My Religion --REM
Tonight-- Smashing Pumpkins
Torn--Natalie Imbruglia
Breathless--The Corrs
Bittersweet Symphony--The Verve
Zombies--The Cranberries
With or Without You--U2
Blind-- Hootie and the Blowfish

Join me in the '90s, my friends. Pluto misses you.

Date a Girl Who Reads...

2011-07-02T08:00:00.123-06:00

I found (and stole it) this on the wild and wily ways of a brunette bomb shell because let's be honest: Meg is brilliant and this is lovely.

Date a Girl Who Reads

by Rosemarie Urquico

Date a girl who reads. Date a girl who spends her money on books instead of clothes. She has problems with closet space because she has too many books. Date a girl who has a list of books she wants to read, who has had a library card since she was twelve.

Find a girl who reads. You'll know that she does because she'll always have an unread book in her bag. She's the one lovingly looking over the shelves in the bookstore, the one who quietly cries out when she finds the book she wants. You see the weird chick sniffing the pages of an old book in a second hand bookshop? That's the reader. They can never resist smelling the pages, especially when they are yellow.

She's the girl reading while waiting at that coffee shop down the street. If you take a peak in her mug, the non-dairy creamer is floating on top because she's kind of engrossed already. Lost in the world of the author's making. Sit down. She might give you a glare, as most girls who read do not like to be interrupted. Ask her if she likes the book.

Buy her another cup of coffee.

Let her know what you really think of Murakami. Ask if she got through the first chapter of Fellowship. Understand that when she says she understood James Joyce's Ulysses she's just trying to sound intelligent. Ask her if she loves Alice or she would like to be Alice.

It's easy to date a girl who reads. Give her books for her birthday, for Christmas, and for anniversaries. Give her the gift of words, in poetry, in song. Give her Neruda, Pound, Sexton, Cummings. Let her know that you understand that words are love. Understand that she knows the difference between books and reality, but by God, she's going to try to make her life a little like her favorite book. It will never be your fault if she does.

She has to give it a shot somehow.

Lie to her. If she understands syntax, she will understand your need to lie. Behind words are other things: motivation, value, nuance, dialogue. It will not be the end of the world.

Fail her. Because a girl who reads knows that failure always leads up to the climax. Because girls who read understand that all things will come to an end. That you can always write a sequel. That you can begin again and again and still be the hero. That life is meant to have a villain or two.

Why be frightened of everything you are not? Girls who read understand that people, like characters, develop. Except in the Twilight series.

If you find a girl who reads, keep her close. When you find her at 2 AM clutching a book to her chest and weeping, make her a cup of tea, and hold her. You may lose her for a couple of hours but she will always come back to you. She'll talk as if the characters in the book are real, because, for a while, they always are.

You will propose on a hot air balloon. Or at a rock concert. Or very casually the next time she's sick. Over Skype.

You will smile so hard you will wonder why your heart hasn't burst and bled out all over your chest yet. You will write the story of your lives, have kids with strange names and even stranger tastes. She will introduce your children to Cat in the Hat and Aslan, maybe in the same day. You will walk in the winters of your old age together and she will recite Keats under her breath while you shake the snow off your boots.

Date a girl who reads because you deserve it. You deserve a girl who can give you the most colorful life imaginable. If you can only give her monotony, and stale hours and half-baked proposals, then you're better off alone. If you want the world and the worlds beyond it, date a girl who reads.

Or better yet, date a girl who writes.

A few things I'll never understand... (The blog world edition)

2011-06-30T16:11:00.004-06:00

I know. Ya'll thought I was so brilliant that there was NOTHING left that I didn't understand. Fear not, dearest readers, there are plenty of things in this world that make me tilt my pretty little strawberry blonde** head to one side and raise an eyebrow. Plus, people keep doing ridiculous things that continue to puzzle me. And lucky for ya'll, you get to read my innermost thoughts and wonderings via this snappy, snarky and stupendous blog. I know. You're excited.

* How everyone suddenly thinks they're a professional photographer: Yeah. You just have an extremely expensive camera that you barely know how to use. I will not be paying you an exorbitant amount of money for you to take substandard photos with techniques you learned from a tutorial on another armature photographer's blog.

* Why looking down and letting your hair fall in your face is now The Thing in pictures. Busy Bee Lauren can do it because she's awesome and has truly fantastic hair. She also includes quite a few pictures of her actual face in the post.

* Fashion blogs in general. I read a couple of fashion blogs. They're really fun sometimes. But just because you own a pair of skinny jeans and wear a belts in places that they don't traditionally belong does not mean that the whole world wants to know where you buy every single item of your clothing. (Disclaimer: I know I know. Just stop reading those blogs. But you know what? Sometimes they have really cute stuff on them. I just skip all of the freaking outfit posts.)

* DIY/Tutorials. Granted, there are some things that I would love to learn to do myself. I grew up with an incredibly crafty mom. The woman could make just about anything look like it was purchased at a store. But guess what? Not everyone has that talent. Sometimes things just look cheesy. I mean please. How many different things can you stick on a freaking headband?!

*Etsy. I love buying things off Etsy. In fact, I buy most of the presents I give people off Etsy. But let me tell you something: the entire world does not need their own Etsy store. About eleventy billion people already sell headbands/homemade rings/tutus/fudge/cookies/crochet iPod covers. Just make them for your friends and be happy about it.

*Vintage. Just because it's old doesn't mean that it's vintage. And for the record, I liked old things before it was cool.

Also. Don't be all offended by anything I said. This is just me ranting. And I'm not calling anyone out. So don't get your knickers in a twist.

** Don't worry. The strawberry part of that blonde is totally fake.

I believe...

2011-06-27T22:34:00.002-06:00

in PINK.
I believe that laughing is the best calorie burner.
I believe in kissing. Kissing a lot.
I believe in being strong when everything seems to be going wrong.
I believe that happy girls are the prettiest girls.
I believe that tomorrow is another day and
I believe in miracles.
--Audrey Hepburn

Don't you just love Audrey? I mean, come on. How can you hate someone who starts a quote with "I believe in pink?" I submit that it's entirely impossible. And ridiculous. Since this is my blog, I get to be right. That's the best part about a blog. If people don't like/agree with all of the genius that I'm spewing out into the interwebs, they don't have to read it any longer. Also, I get to be a big deal on my blog. This is particularly helpful when I don't feel like I big deal in other places. In short, (bah! the puns I could concoct with that phrase) a blog is a fantastic self esteem booster because a) I get to be right which is one of my all time favorite things and secondly) I get to be a constant big deal. If you haven't caught on already, today I'm in a slightly scattered mood. I really couldn't tell you why. It could be because I stayed up entirely too late watching Friday Night Lights for most of the weekend. What is entirely too late you ask? I'll tell you: 5 am on Friday (or is that Saturday?) and 2:30 this morning. Put your judging eyes away. Have YOU watched it? Then you can't judge. It's kind of awesome. Anyway, it could be that or the decided lack of air conditioning in my house. It's possible that what few brain cells my university education left me are now fried to a crisp.Can I please remind you all how much I loathe hot weather? Blech. I hate feeling like I need to shower three times a day. I change my clothes even more than normal in the summer because I always feel disgusting. I like the early mornings and the late evenings when it's cool out and it smells like Russian Olive trees and honeysuckle. But all that nastiness in the middle? I wish I could sleep through it all in a frigid room. Wrapped in a sweatshirt. Oh the delight. To combat this insanity I plan on going to the Shakespeare festival in Cedar City, which isn't any cooler than Salt Lake, but copious amounts of the Bard combined with a visit from Charisse has a tendency to make me feel slightly less...upset about the heat. In preparation for delightful journey, I'm watching the Shakespeare ReTold version of Macbeth. James McAvoy and Richard Armitage in the same movie? Yes. Yes, please. I don't mind if I do. I'm just hoping that this viewing doesn't lead to insane dreams about attractive Scottish men killing one another. Which wouldn't be pleasant. Well, the attractive men would be pleasant, but the whole killing thing wouldn't be so much a party. My subconscious has a tendency to take things and run with them at a breakneck speed. Once after watching too many episodes of Bones before bed, I dreamed that I was performing an autopsy on my little brother Cole. I woke up in tears. I might have to hang out with the Gilmores before bed to stave off the awful dreams.

(I told you. My brain is jumping all over the place. Don't judge.)

Don't judge...

2011-06-21T16:22:00.001-06:00

So.
I came home from my LDS mission 3.5 years ago.
I didn't serve in some far off land (unlike some of my friends who ended up in places like Russia and Guatemala), unless you count Los Angeles as a foreign country. Some people would. I was lucky enough to serve Spanish speaking and was introduced to some of the most amazing food ever created.
Flautas?
Papusas?
Horchata?
Gifts from heaven.
My mother, genius cook that she is, learned how to recreate most of these delights pretty soon after I got home. She loves me, what can I say? As wonderful as it was to eat flautas without any roaches crawling across my plate (you think I'm kidding, don't you?) there's just something about eating authentic Latino food made by someone who genuinely doesn't speak any English that makes it more...special.
Friday night I went downtown with Platt (Oh! I haven't told you about Platt yet? Here's a quick run down: Mallory Platt and I are the same person. No, really. People in our ward even call us The Mallory(ie)s. I call her Platt because, let's be honest, it's really odd to call someone by your first name) and we went to an art thing that one of her designs from school was nominated to be part of. (She's an architect.) Afterward we went wandering about. She was aghast to discover that I'd never in all my born days eaten at The Red Iguana. Apparently this is some sort of sin. Off we went. Can I please just tell you all that I nearly cried when we walked into the restaurant? I was immediately homesick for my mission. It smelled like every single dinner appointment that I walked into for nearly 18 months. I actually did cry when they gave us our salsa, and not just because it was hot (apparently my tongue forgot that I used to eat very large jalapeno peppers whole on a regular basis). Platt laughed at me when they gave me my food because I was more than slightly verklempt.

See that there? Real crema. Not sour cream. Honest to goodness refried beans. It was heaven on a plate. I will be returning soon. Don't you little worry.

Top Five Reasons I Should be a Character on MI-5...

2011-06-19T01:30:00.002-06:00

5) I would most definitely appreciate the completely brilliant gadgets that Malcolm makes for them. (Malcolm is like MI-5's own personal version of Q and I love him for it.)

4) I'm fantastic at coming up with aliases for people. (Squeegee Beckenhiem? Genius.)

3) While I'm a completely horrific liar, I can talk my way out of almost anything. (Except for cleaning the bathroom when I was younger. Who knew?)

2) I have a baby face. No one would ever suspect that I was a spy (or spook, if you're British). I look too nice.

1) I have a completely deadly withering stare. Don't believe me? Ask any of my students who have lied to me about finishing their homework or any one of my siblings who talked back to me (which to be honest, is all of them.)

I know. My reasoning is brilliant. Call up BBC1 and let them know. I'm on the next flight to London.

Love this...

2011-06-16T14:03:00.006-06:00

"The most beautiful people we have known are those who have known defeat, known suffering, known struggle, known loss, and have found their way out of the depths. These persons have an appreciation, a sensitivity, and an understanding of life that fills them with compassion, gentleness, and a deep loving concern. Beautiful people do not just happen."

--Elizabeth Kubler Ros

A few things I'll never understand...

2011-06-10T14:01:00.003-06:00

It's been a while since "a few things I'll never understand" has made an appearance on my blog. After reading People.com today, I decided that it's time for a revival. Without further ado:

A few things I'll never understand:

*LADY GAGA. I'm pretty sure that wearing meat as a dress isn't a fashion statement, it's a health hazard. And completely disgusting. Also, it's not the 60s. Wear a bra. (Amanda love, don't be mad at me.)

*BEING FAMOUS FOR BEING FAMOUS. The Kardashians? Paris Hilton? They don't do anything to contribute to society. I mean fine, I'm sure they keep boosting the economy through spending exorbitant amounts of money, but aside from the mass amount of aerosol that is contributing to the deterioration of the ozone layer, they do nothing.*

*THE RANDOM ADDITION OF THE LETTER Z TO PHRASES: I mean pleaz. Doez thiz make senze to anyone elze?

*HOW I GOT THE PLAGUE IN JUNE. Seriously, tonsils? Are you kidding me?

*WHY I GET SUCH INSANE PLEASURE OUT OF SHREDDING PAPER AT WORK. Does this mean that I have anger issues? Should I be seeing a therapist about this? I'm a little concerned.

*ALL OF THE GAMES ON FACEBOOK. I don't care about your fish, your farm or your avatar.

*I might have made this up. Science? Not really my thing. I don't want anyone to correct my erroneous suppositions.

True Story...

2011-06-09T10:20:00.010-06:00

(Blogger hates me. Click to read the microscopic writing.)

It's true. They do.

Artificial Sunshine...

2011-06-07T21:11:00.007-06:00

Confession: I'm far more obsessed with music than I should be. It is physically impossible for me to be in a room for more than 20 seconds without it, I start to twitch like I have Tourettes. You think I'm kidding? Oh, don't you little worry. I'm not. The creation of the iPod was a gift from on high. It means I have a pocket full of music with me at all times. What could be better then that?

So, today, I was driving down 9th east, windows down, music blaring on my way to meet some friends for dinner. Today was one of those totally golden days in Salt Lake where the weather was my kind of perfect. Not too hot, not too cold (Remember? I'm the Goldilocks of seasons), the sun was shinning, and the air smelled like a splendid mix of sunshine, grass and flowers. It was pure delight. To add to my complete bliss, one of my favorite songs began to play on Chuck (for the uninformed, that's my iPod). I came to the decision that there are some songs that are like artificial sunshine. And lucky for ya'll, I've compiled them into a list. You can thank me later.

Mal's Mix of Artificial Sunshine:

Fader by Temper Trap

Follow You Down by Gin Blossoms

Why Do You Let Me Stay Here by She & Him

I'm Asking Her to Stay by Sherwood

1234 by Feist

Gray or Blue by Jaymay

Oh, It is Love by Hellogoodbye

Good Mornin' Life by Dean Martin

Be OK by Ingrid Michaelson

Fairytale by Sara Bareilles

Catch the Sun by Jamie Cullum

Come Fly with Me by Frank Sinatra

For Once in my Life by Michael Buble

Reprise by Clarksville

Show Off by Sutton Foster (The Drowsy Chaperone)

You and Me by Plain White-T's

Jump then Fall by Taylor Swift

The Way I Am by Ingrid Michaelson

You Can't Stop the Beat by The Hairspray Cast

Banana Pancakes by Jack Johnson

Can't Buy Me Love by Michael Buble

Pony (It's OK) by Erin McCarley

You Are My Favourite by Sophie Madeleine

Jesus on the Radio by Guster

Any additions? Leave me a comment. I always love new music.

"In ignorance, I await my own surprise."

2011-06-06T02:08:00.001-06:00

How many of ya'll have seen Never Been Kissed? Can I get a raise of hands? *counts quickly* Good, good. It seems that my list of requirements to be my friend was widely circulated. I'm impressed. What you may not know is that it is (partly) the story of my life. Oh heavens! No! I'm not secretly married to Michael Vartan. And no, I'm not an undercover reporter (though I could probably easily pass for a high school student. I suppose that's a perk of having a baby face) for the Chicago Sun Times. Nor was I called Josie Grossy in high school (right, Amy, Aubie and Jess?) But much like Miss Josie Geller, I have never had:

"That thing, that moment, when you kiss someone and everything around becomes hazy and the only thing in focus is you and this person and you realize that that person is the only person that you're supposed to kiss for the rest of your life, and for one moment you get this amazing gift and you want to laugh and you want to cry because you feel so lucky that you found it and so scared that that it will go away all at the same time."

I'm sure that you've surmised by now what I'm getting at: I've never been kissed. I know. Half of you are surprised. Another quarter of you seem to think that this makes sense. A third of you think I'm a prude. (Remember how I'm really good at math?!) And how ever many of you are left over, well, I'm sure you could really care less. If you fit into this category, please, feel free to cease and desist the reading of this post immediately. For those who remain, let me 'splain: it's not because it's never been offered. And it's not because I'm a total prude. I swear. And it's not because I've never been with a guy that I actually wanted to kiss. It's mostly that, well, the guys that have offered haven't been the same guys that I actually wanted to allow into my bubble. Or it came at an epically wrong moment. And trust me when I say epically wrong; we're talking disastrously bad timing. I won't go into details.

Whenever I've shared this tidbit of information with people, I get one of two responses:
a) "That's SO cool. I wished that I'd waited to kiss someone."
b) "Are you kidding me?!" (insert face of complete astonishment here)
I don't like either one. Yes, I know that I am abnormal, but don't try to soothe what you assume to be my ruffled feathers by telling me that you think that it's so cool. It's not like I'm some amazingly virtuous person. And, no, I'm not kidding you. No, I don't need you to teach me how to flirt, I do that quite well on my own. Thank you, but I've waited this long, I'm not going to just kiss some random guy to get it over with, though I've most definitely thought about it.

I won't lie to you: I have my moments where this makes me feel utterly pathetic. I have others where I wish I could just know the future. But in the end, I always come to the same decision. I like surprises. I like not knowing when exciting things are going to happen. It makes each day an adventure. So, as Bones says, "In ignorance, I await my own surprise."

Need a laugh?

2011-06-06T00:24:00.000-06:00

Because who doesn't?

FACT!!

Tag! I'm it...

2011-06-04T09:00:00.003-06:00

Only because I love Miss Amanda Platt. A lot. I'm going to do this. Happy, Manda?

1. Upload a photo that you're using right now. (This makes absolutely no sense. That's right. I said it.) This is exactly what I'm doing right now. Why yes, that's Legally Blonde on my TV.

Let me 'splain. Jourdan and I made the...mistake? of watching Legally Blondes. It was so completely terrible that we made up a drinking game (put your judging eyes away. We were drinking Diet Coke) in order to maintain our brain cells.

2. When was the last time you ate chicken? Really? Why is this important? Anyway, I ate chicken Tuesday night. It was delicious because I'm a genius cook.

3. The song/songs you've listened to lately: Now we're talking. I'll just give you the list from the current soundtrack of my life:
Astonishing- Little Women the Musical (sung by Sutton Foster)
Ordinary Day- Vanessa Carlton
Young Blood- The Naked and Famous
Get Your Way- Jamie Cullum
Melt My Heart to Stone- Adele
Let the Rain- Sara Bareilles
I'm the Man Who Murdered Love- XTC
Nothing Left to Lose- Mat Kearney
All I Want- Toad the Wet Sprocket
Strip Me- Natasha Bedingfield
Red- Sara Bareilles
Hey Beautiful- The Solids
Stars- Switchfoot
Why Do You Let Me Stay Here- She & Him
Gray or Blue- Jaymay
So Here We Are- Bloc Party
Oh, How I Loved You- Goldrich and Heisler
Brand New Day- Joshua Radin
Fader- The Temper Trap
For Good- Glee Cast
Light Up the World- Glee Cast
I Just Can't Stop Myself- Sophie Madeleine
(Yeah, it's a lot. Deal with it.)

I'm supposed to tag people, but I'm never very good at that. Plus, Manda said I didn't have to, so I'm not going to. :) Love you, Manda!!

Will the real blog slacker please stand up?

2011-06-02T15:28:00.000-06:00

I'm standing. You probably can't see me because I'm a midget in a sea of giants. See my little hand sticking up? Yeah. There I am. This is my formal apology for not blogging in (wince) almost two weeks. Things have been a little busy lately. I had all of these grand plans to post the great American novel on my birthday, but the day got away from me, as it has tended to do lately. To be honest, I've been trying to spend less time on the computer and more reading, which has proved to be beneficial. But then, dear readers, I discovered this. I blame Amanda (because one always needs someone to blame in situations such as these.) I'm now completely addicted. I know I know. Put your judging eyes away please. I've also spent a fair amount of time looking for jobs. Yup, that's right. Looking for jobs. It's a long story. A long, boring story that I'm not in the mood to retell. All you need to know is that I'm still working at the stadium part time and will be until further notice. Do me a favor, dears? Pray that I find a job that I don't hate. Deal? I'll do anything ya'll want me to. Except shave my head. Or eat bugs. Actually, let's amend that statement. Not anything. You tell me what you want me to do and I'll see if it corresponds with my list of pre-approved bribes.

If I didn't know it was impossible...

2011-05-21T22:53:00.000-06:00

I'd think I was pregnant. Don't you even laugh at me. I'm serious. And this is why: this afternoon I was vacuuming my room and watching How I Met Your Mother (the perfect combination in my humble opinion) in preparation for a movie night with my cute friend Robyn. I was mostly focused on the whole vacuuming thing, but I looked up just as Lily was eating a pretzel. That's when it hit me: an absolutely insatiable desire, no, not desire, NEED for a pretzel. I was pretty sure that I was going to go completely batty if I didn't get a nice salty, crunchy pretzel in my mouth stat. Let me put this into better perspective for you: if Zachary Levi had shown up on my front step wearing a baseball cap, I still would have passed him over for the pretzel. Unless he was holding a bag of pretzels. Then all would have been good. (Insert swoony face here). Anyway, back to my story. Of course, I didn't have any in my house. There's practically no food in my house right now, especially because my refrigerator broke last weekend (another story for another post). Also, I don't usually get insatiable desires for pretzels, of all things. I won't lie to you. I don't think that I've purchased a bag of pretzels...ever. We always had them in the pantry growing up, but as an adult, they're not the first thing I reach for. Do you see my confusion? Praise the heavens, there is a Smith's not 20 seconds from my house. One little trip across the street was all it took for me to obtain my greatest desire. I proceeded to munch on pretzels instead of eating dinner (don't judge. I'm a grown up. I can do that).

Should this concern me?

"I hold on to worry, so tight. It's safe in here right next to my heart."

2011-05-17T16:46:00.002-06:00

"I never want to worry again. It's exhausting and draining. It's counterproductive. It's poisonous and toxic. And I can't do it anymore. Obviously, there will always be stressful things, and you have to react to stressful situations, but you don't have to turn those scenarios over and over again in your head to the point where you truly believe any possible outcome will be the worst thing to ever happen in the history of the world. Obviously I'm exaggerating a little, but just a little." --Jasmine from An Experiment in Poverty

Can we be honest for just a minute? No judging eyes, deal? Okay, here goes: I worry. A lot. I've written about it before. I worry about all sorts of things from the ridiculous (falling down a set of stairs) to the rational (finding a full time job). Sometimes worry is a good thing. It can motivate me to get up out of my green chair and stop watching Spooks to clean my house or go grocery shopping or apply for jobs. Worry can motivate me to take my car into the shop when it makes that weird noise when I push on the gas pedal. Worry means that I don't eat cheeseburgers, ice cream or drink regular milk. It means that I keep all my doors locked at night and leave a light on when I leave the house at night.

See. A particular kind of worry can be a good thing.

The kind of worry that I've had going on lately hasn't exactly been the good kind. It's been the keep yourself-up-at-night-chewing-off-your-fingernails-give-yourself-a-massive-headache kind of worry. Unfortunately, that's my worry of choice. It's something that I've done since I was a little kid. I guess you could say that I'm wound a little...er, tight, I suppose (if that's a surprise to you, you don't know me at all). I won't lie to you. As exciting as college graduation was (and it was), it has me wound all sorts of tight. I'm now going to vent right here, right now the things (ridiculous to rational) that I'm worried about:

-Finding a job that I actually enjoy that's right for me.

-Paying off my student loans.

-Finding a place to live when I move out of my grandma's house.

-That I'm not doing all of the things that I should to be a good person.

- That I'll never find anything useful to do with my degree.

-I'll never get married because I'm too scared to talk to new people.

-I'm not a good enough example to my siblings.

-I'll never be able to make things right with my brother, no matter how hard I try.

(Now imagine me dusting off my hands)

Alright. That's over with now. I'm taking a deep breath and from here on out, I'm going to do my best not to worry. Just like Jasmine says, it's counterproductive. So this is me letting go of some of that ridiculous worry, blog world. When there's nothing that I can do to change a situation, there's no point in worrying. I am, here and now, making the conscious decision to worry less and enjoy life more.

Join me, won't you?

2011-05-10T16:07:00.001-06:00

Do ya'll remember this post? It's pretty entertaining, if I do say so myself. If you haven't read it, you should. My want ad for a boyfriend? Wow, it sounds utterly pathetic when I write it that way. Don't judge me, please. I write about stuff like this because, let's be honest, it's great fodder for a blog and I get more comments when I do. I know. You now can see that I'm a shallow comment whore. I'm sure you'll get over this shock. Also, I'm a single, Mormon girl over the age of 16. It's bound to come up and I've accepted that. Most of the time. I still have my days, which I suppose is understandable. Anyway, the whole point of this post is that I found something else to add to my want ad: Someone who is willing to constantly build/put together bookshelves for the constant flow of new books that seem to find their way into my life. It's one addiction that I'm not willing to give up.

Playing grown up...

2011-05-09T11:24:00.001-06:00

Do you ever feel like you're just playing at being an adult? Let me tell you something: even though I have been counting down the days until graduation, it still felt like I was just pretending. As I sat in a sea of black and red clad graduates all wearing those ridiculous mortar board hats (Can I pause in my seriousness to say that I want to find the person who decided what graduation attire should look like and give them a swift kick in the shins? Everyone looks terrible in that get up AND it screws with your hair. Okay, rant over), I couldn't help but have a slight moment of panic at the idea of entering the real world.

I've spent the last few days telling people that I still have to go home and finish my homework or contemplating which classes to register for next semester only to come to the jarring realization that all my homework is done and all my classes completed. I suppose that being a school nerd makes the transition slightly more painful because in reality, I'm going to miss school. (Not enough to start grad school right away, mind you. I'm not that nuts.) Part of me is going to miss the papers and the lectures, the assigned reading and the study groups.

School was safe because it was something that I knew for sure that I was good at. Now I'm required to make all of that knowledge useful somehow, and I'm at a loss for how to do so. I know that a history degree is basically useless without a master's and most places that I apply to work won't care about my views on the Cold War or that I know all about FDR and his alphabet soup.

But I am determined to make the last 8 years of my life worth something on the grand scale of things. I've already been offered and turned down 2 jobs because they weren't what was right for me (trust me when I say that I know it sounds completely crazy. Take it up with the Lord), and I just have to trust that someone who is much more intelligent and has my best interests at heart is directing things. As long as I follow His plans and His inspirations, I'll end up right where He needs me to be and what could be better than that?

2011-05-02T11:59:00.000-06:00

Call me vain if you must.

But I simply LOVE these pictures that the brilliant, talented and simply delightful Emily Mangum took for my graduation. I know, I know, I stuck them up all over Facebook, but this girl can't get enough exposure and let's be honest: I'm self centered and egotistical and I like them.

A thought...

2011-04-29T23:39:00.001-06:00

The molecules of your body are the same molecules that make up the nebulae, that burn inside the stars themselves.

We are starstuff.

--D.C. Fontana

The group project from hell and other random ramblings from a brain-dead-almost-college graduate...

2011-04-26T12:32:00.000-06:00

I've said it before and I'll say it again: group projects are a special kind of torture that can only have been contrived in the deepest and most unholy depths of Hell. You think that, as per usual, that I am exaggerating for dramatic effect? Oh on the contrary, my dear reader. There is not even the slightest hint of exaggeration in that statement. In fact, it might not be strong enough. I won't give you exact details, mostly because just thinking about them makes my blood pressure rise to an unhealthy level, but here's a brief overview:

-A crying 20 year old who didn't do her portion of the project and tried to make everyone feel sorry for her (*sob* "It's the week before finals! I'm so overwhelmed."*sob* My advice? Find your boot straps, pull 'em up and quit letting your lack of preparedness affect my grade.)

-A fellow senior who shows up to class, at best, once a week

-3 football players who somehow have gotten the idea that we're friends, so I should help them with their project

-2 hours that were supposed to be spent on an upcoming stats project frantically wasted reluctantly recalculating the crying group member's bad math

-One temporarily lost notebook that had my entire semester's worth of work in it

-A mad dash to the Stadium to reprint said project as I was the only group member without another class that morning and easy access to a free printer

-One computer that decided not to open or print any Windows documents

-Yet another mad dash, this time to President's Circle

-One asthmatic running up a set of stairs in order to turn in a now late group project

What does all that equal, you may wonder? One insanely stressed out Mallorie who did her entire portion of the project days in advance, but still ended up with all the stress.

Now, I'm pretty good at simple math (shout out to Sara the Theatre Fairy who helped me conquer my paralyzing fear of the subject. You're a magician), but that doesn't seem like a balanced equation to me. But maybe all of that insanity has clouded my superpowers and my better judgement. Anyway, I have returned even more firmly to the resolution that group projects are meant to torture good and prepared students. It's how professors manage to give out lower grades and make their classes seem more difficult. That, along with the dreaded comprehensive final, are currently the bane of my otherwise fantastical existence. But do you know what the cure for a horrifical day is? 4 pairs of new shoes (all purchased on sale, mind you) and dinner with one of your best friends. The best part is trying on shoes some place like Ross where all of the shoes are connected so you have to shuffle around. If that doesn't cure your bad day, then you, my friend, are not human.

Poor, obscure, plain and little...

2011-04-18T23:10:00.004-06:00

I've been on a massive Jane Eyre kick lately. It can really be blamed on Sara, the Theatre Fairy, if you're up for playing the blame game. It's her all time favorite book and when the new adaptation finally came out in Utah (apparently a March 11th release date actually means April 1st in Utah. It must be the whole Mormon Standard Time thing interfering), Sara insisted that we squeeze in a viewing and, let's be honest, who was I to argue? I hadn't read the book since Mrs. Shelton's AP English class and I only distinctly remembered two parts: where Jane is locked in the Red Room (the room that, as a 10 year old, she's beyond positive is haunted by the ghost of her dead uncle) and the end, where she returns to find a blind and broken Mr. Rochester after which she says, "Reader, I married him". Did I just spoil it for you? Well, I don't even feel a little bit bad. The book has been around for over 150 years, so if you don't know the ending by now, that's your own dang fault. Anyway, I remember enjoying the book, but I've always been more of an Austen girl, so I hadn't re-read it since I was 17 or so. After two delightful Mr. Rochester filled hours, I was more intrigued and drawn to the story then I ever had been before. I was reminded of why I actually finished the book (as opposed to Wuthering Heights, which I'm only slightly ashamed to say was finished with the generous aid of Cliff's Notes. Don't judge. Even its delicious creepiness can't make up for the fact that there isn't a single likable character in the whole blasted book): I saw much more of myself in Jane that I had in any character in a book up to that point. That's not to say that our lives were similar in the least: I come from a fantastic family and had an incredible childhood. I was loved beyond all reason and rarely wanted for anything. On my more self deprecating days, I identify with the fact that Jane is plain. Now don't get your panties in a twist. I didn't say that I was ugly. And neither is Jane. She's simply one of those people whose beauty isn't visible to the random passer by. That's not to say that most people can be judged by their covers, but some of us have less remarkable and stunning packaging than others. And more often then not, I feel the same way. I mean, please. I'm called adorable. Cute. Sweet. Lovable. Darling. Sometimes I feel more like a puppy or a baby chick than a woman. In reality, none of this is of great consequence to Jane because what makes her such a strong and desirable heroine is the ability to persevere through even the most weighty and unpleasant of circumstances. That chick is a survivor if that I've seen..er, read one. She's intelligent and independent. She has to make her own way in the world and is willing work for what she gets. Though she may be (in Mr. Rochester's words), "poor, obscure, plain and little", she has a huge impact on the lives of those around her, which has always been my goal. It's her heart and her kindness that make her great. Her ability to see the good in others, but not to let even that sway her into doing something that she feels to be morally wrong. I love Jane because she's everything that I want to be when I finally decide to grow up.

So dish. Who's your hero?

"Although how can you know who you are till you know what you want?"

2011-04-05T12:11:00.002-06:00

I've never been a champion decision maker. Ask anyone who knows me well. I don't like picking movies, restaurants, clothes, music, or what to do on a Friday night. You name it. It's not usually a problem of not knowing what I want; it's a problem of being the classic people pleaser. I just want everyone to be happy, even if it means that I'm not always happy. This doesn't mean that I never make choices. I do; all the time. For example, just this morning I decided to wear my khakis instead of my gray dress pants. See? I can make decisions. You can clap for me now.

I just don't like making the life-altering-move-half-way-across-the-country-decisions.

Just for the record, I did get into Teach for America.

Hold your shouts of jubilation for a moment because I turned the job down.

Don't yell at me!!

It wasn't an easy choice. Especially for a girl who hates making huge decisions. Here's the thing, people: the closer it came to finding out whether I had been accepted or not, the more that I hoped and prayed that I had been rejected. This is not a normal reaction when one has the chance at their "dream" job. I was a little ill about the whole thing. Me being me, I just figured that it was the stress of waiting (I've never been known to be a patient person) and that I'd feel better about it when I knew if I got in or not. About a week ago, I was chatting with one of my favorite chatting buddies, Sara (also know as my own personal Theatre Fairy) and I came to a realization: I applied for TFA because I felt like that was the only option I had as far as a full-time, fulfilling job goes upon my graduation from the U. I loved Salt Lake and didn't really want to move away. I have a life here. Friends. A schedule. I didn't WANT to leave. That very night I prayed harder than I ever had that TFA wouldn't accept me. Especially now that I had decided what I thought I wanted to do. In the next 4 days, two amazing potential job opportunities opened up. Things that I was interested in pursuing.

Then the day came. The dreaded day of April 4th. The day TFA was going to reject me. I was so sure that I wouldn't get in because I'd already made my decision. Learning process over, right?

Wrong, my dear readers. Wrong.

When I opened that acceptance letter, I bawled my lovely blue eyes out.

I realized that was probably a bad sign.

A huge part of the bawling had to do with the fact that I now had to make a huge, potentially life changing decision. I hate life changing decisions. There's just SO much pressure involved in making them. And pressure gives me migraines. I soon realized, though, that this was not something that I could hide from or push off onto someone else's plate. It was time for me to make my own choice and to determine exactly what I wanted.
Armed with the essentials: a Diet Coke, my cell phone (to call my mom, Aubrie or Sara the Theatre Fairy, all of whom help me make huge decisions) my scriptures, and a whole lot of tissues, I set out to do it.

I was determined to make a choice based on what was best for me, even though I despise making choices like this one. It reminds me of one of the songs from Into the Woods, where Cinderella is talking about standing on the steps of the palace and how she doesn't want to make the choice about the prince so she chooses not to decide. That's usually how I roll. Let the circumstances make the decision for me. But not this time. Because just like Cinderella says, "How can you know who you are till you know what you want?" (See! Everything you need to know in life can be learned from a musical.)

And I have decided what I want.

I want to stay in Salt Lake, close to my family, in a city that I love, with friends that I adore because to be honest: I am happy here.

Why fix something that's not broken?

So. Whether you think I'm crazy or I'm sane doesn't matter because I made the decision for myself.

Opinions, opinions...

2011-03-29T17:56:00.003-06:00

So. I am looking at possible jobs that won't bore me out of my mind when I join the ranks of the graduated in May and one of these is as a copywriter. They're looking for someone who not only has good grammar skills and likes to write, but one who is 'pithy' (their word, not mine). Along with a resume, they've asked for a writing sample. Most of the stuff that I've written for school doesn't exactly fall into this category so my mind immediately flew to this here blog space. This is where you, my dear readers, come into the picture.

I need to know what your favorite posts have been.

This could make or break me, since the whole ninja assassin thing doesn't look like it's going to work out (shame, I know) and I can't count on Teach for America (one more week of waiting left), I want to make sure my options are open. Please please don't let a girl down.

Comment below and for heaven sakes, be honest.

The Daily Ten...

2011-03-28T15:49:00.001-06:00

I'm the luckiest. No, really, I am. There are many reasons, but one of them is that I'm related to this darling girl because my cousin was brilliant enough to marry her (scroll down to see pictures of her. She's seriously one of the cutest people ever). A while back she started doing this fun thing called The Daily Ten where she picked ten things every day that she was grateful for/happy about. Seeings at this is my last semester in school (5 weeks, baby!) and I feel like I'm literally dragging my feet through the days, I decided that it was time for a little Daily Ten in my life. Especially with this being the week after spring break and coming back to school has just about killed me, so ya'll get to hear 10 things that I'm grateful for. Be prepared for it to get silly pretty fast because that's just how I roll.

1) My sister-in-law to be. Jordan has to be one of the most amazing people that I know. She's kind and gracious to everyone. She always makes me feel like I'm important when I'm around her and I'd trade my brother for her in a heartbeat. I'm over the moon that she's going to be an honest to goodness sealed in part of our family in 3 weeks.

2) A new phone. That's right. I've finally joined the ranks of the cool. No, I'm not cool enough to have an iPhone (who wants to pay for the data plan?!) but I did get a new HTC Freestyle which is like an iPhone, but without the extra charge. Now if I could just learn how to use it, I'd be in business.

3) Bath and Body Works Wallflowers. I just got new scents and my whole house smells amazing. Smelling good is one of my all time favorite things. Hence I have about 13 kinds of perfume on my bathroom counter.

4) General Conference Weekend. 2 days. 8 hours. All sorts of awesomeness? Yes, please.

5) Theatre Tickets. I have tickets to see A Tale of Two Cities two more times before it closes. Right now I'm not focusing on the fact that my new favorite show is closing soon, but on the fact that I get to see it TWO more times. It'll bring my grand total up to coughninecough, but who's counting?

6) Amazon Prime. Just this very morning, this miraculous invention allowed me to purchase three of my favorite books from my childhood: Rain Makes Applesauce, Tikki Tikki Tembo, and Caps for Sale. And the best part? Shipping is free and they'll be here Wednesday. I love my life.

7) Bright Red Nail Polish. I love love love to paint my nails and red is typically my color of choice because it's sassy and fun. Right now I'm having a hard time watching the computer screen instead of my awesome nails as I type.

8) New friends. I've met a lot of amazing and incredible people lately, which has been lovely especially because I'm a little shy so meeting new people isn't always easy for me.

9) Massive shopping trips. I know I know. I shouldn't shop as much as I do, but I simply LOVE it! And my closet is SO happy when I'm done, even if my bank account isn't. Gap outlet just about broke me on Saturday.

10) Adele. I'm madly in love with her new CD. So much so that I actually bought the disc so that I could have it in my car, on my iPod and on my computer at home. Obsessed much? I think so.

What a difference a day makes...

2011-03-21T16:12:00.001-06:00

So, friends of the blog world, can I please share with you that my weekend was full of craziness? I was literally surrounded by a sea of crazy for the better portion of it. It all began on Thursday morning when my sweet grandmother had an epic freak out session after I left for work which lead to my mother coming to the decision that it was time to move her down to Pleasant Grove for the duration. That meant that on Friday morning after class my mom, Kylee, Max and Cole all drove up to Sugarhouse to pack up 60 years worth of life in a house and haul it down to the padres' house. (A quick shout out to the darling Amanda who was a complete angel and worked all day for me so that I could run around like a chicken with my head cut off). What complicated this little plan was that Gram was sick when my mom got to the house. I had been in such a hurry get to get to class on time that I hadn't been paying especially close attention when I ran out the door, but my mom saw it as soon as she walked in (She's so observant that I swear she's psychic sometimes). So after lots of moving, lots of throwing things away and 4 huge bags of clothes for the DI, one trip to Pleasant Grove and back, Gram was off to her doctor's appointment while Squeegee and I did a little shopping. Now, dears, don't judge, but I was feeling weak willed and I let her talk me into purchasing a pair of skinny jeans. I told you not to judge! It's my blog! I'm the only one who gets to judge around here! And I look darling in them. AND they're a size smaller than the last time I purchased jeans, so take that! That's all we're going to say on the subject. Saturday brought a day full of cleaning (there was food in the cupboard that expired while I was on my MISSION) and work, followed by a long evening of cleaning my room and moving things upstairs with the help of Sara the Theatre Fairy. We decided to be spontaneous and get sweet potato Smashfries from SmashBurger AND shrimp tacos from Bajio for dinner. It was an odd combination, but throughly delightful all the same.

We're going to take a break from our regularly scheduled programing so I can tell you all how freaky sleeping in an old house all by yourself is: double dose of freaky. Trust me. I didn't sleep at all on Friday night because every tiny noise had me jolting out of my bed to investigate. It's first time since I was 16 and saw What Lies Beneath that I purposely slept with all of the lights on. Hence the move upstairs. It's much quieter than the basement and not as freaky. Sorry for the interruption. Back to my life.

My Sunday morning started with a phone call from my mother informing me that my grandma was throwing a grand fit about having been moved to the Good Ole PG and that they were seriously considering moving her back up to Salt Lake. My bleary and sleep filled mind had some serious problems digesting this information, and the first thing out of my mouth was, "But I already moved all my stuff." I'm so intelligent sometimes that I scare myself. After a few tears, lots of prayers and yet another trip down south, we came to the conclusion that Gram would stay put in Pleasant Grove. While I was down in PG, trying to help my dear mother calm my grandma down, I got to hold and snuggle my Peanut and play with Joshie a little. It was a fantastic little trip. Immediately following my return home, I took my first Sunday nap in 3 months and it was glorious. I was then lucky enough to be fed one of my favorite meals: pasta alla Sara. Right?! The awesomeness of this was compounded by the fact that I also watched Guys and Dolls for the first time ever and can I please just tell you all that I have absolutely no clue how I lived 25.84 years of my life without seeing that movie? I'm addicted. And I want to marry Sky Masterson.

Lucky for me I now have spring break to nurse my new found obsession and reorganize the mess that is my house.

All the cookies...

2011-03-16T00:22:00.004-06:00

I don't remember exactly when we started using the phrase, though I'm fairly certain that it had something to do with this lovely man:

Riiiiiight?

Anyway, like I said. I'm pretty sure that Jourdan and I were referencing his sheer amazingness in August Rush or something akin to that when the idiom came into being. The exact conversation is immaterial. The important part is that the articulation super glued its self into my little head and I began to use it to describe those people that you almost want to hate because they're so close to perfect that it's ridiculous.

All the coo-kies

[awl thuh kook-ees]

adjective

1. A phrase used to describe a person or group of people who are proficient at any and all tasks that they desire to accomplish

2. One who is exceptionally good looking, inside and out

3. A person who is "so good hearted that any normal chap would hate him".

Sample Sentence:

"Of course shaking his hand made you turn to jelly; he has all the cookies."

That should give you a more specific idea of what I'm rambling about. Anyway, this elucidation has now become part of my vernacular to the point that I use 'all the cookies' without thinking around people who have no clue what it means and subsequently some of the incredibleness is lost on them. Which brings me to my point in this blog post: I've been lucky enough to meet a handful of people who embody the definition of this delightful expression and in my world, it is not thrown around the way that most people throw around the word 'good'. So if and when I tell you that you have all the cookies, please, take me seriously; even though the verbiage its self sounds a little silly.

So. Fill me in. Who do you know that has all the cookies?

Do you ever...

2011-03-14T13:40:00.003-06:00

have those days where you feel like you just kind of suck at life? Where nothing you do is exactly right and you're always missing the mark? That's me today. No, honestly. Everything just feels off. I got in trouble at work (which NEVER happens) for not being nice to a couple of customers last week when I was dying of the plague and should have been home in bed. Usually I'd just let this roll off, but my boss was really condescending about it and just made me feel like an idiot, as though I have no clue how to do my job and that just made me feel even worse. 99.9% of the time, I'm perfectly nice to every customer who walks up to my desk, stupid questions or not. I know that I usually talk about how much I love my job, but right now I'm sick to death of it. I think that part of it has to do with the fact that last week, I realized that I'm so very not cut out to be someone's secretary. I want to do something real with my life, something that makes a difference in someone else's life. I watch all of my amazing friends do incredible and fulfilling things with their days like raise money for non-profit organizations and teach kids with special needs, and what do I do?

Answer phone calls about sporting events and play on Facebook.
(And I know that I tutor and that my boys love me. This frustration has nothing to do with my tutoring job.)

And apparently I can't even get that right.

Can I please just express to you all how frustrating it is not to feel like you're contributing to society on a regular basis?

It sucks.

Anyway, I'm so sorry for my gloomy mood.

Blame it on the weather.

I promise to be back to my bright and sunny self again tomorrow.

...

2011-03-10T17:53:00.001-07:00

Do you, my darling readers, remember how I was supposed to be free from my retched tonsils next Thursday? I was counting down the days. Honest. I was ready to make myself one of those old school paper chains and everything. To finally be free from getting the plague on a VERY regular basis? Eat nothing but Popsicles and Jamba Juice for a week? Lay on my padres' down-filled couch and watch every BBC miniseries that I could get my hands on? Convince Max and Cole to rub my feets because I'm sick? Bliss. I mean, the whole excruciating pain thing is a minus, but what's a little pain in the grand scheme of keeping my voice? I'm glad to see that you share my perspective on this. Imagine my horror and devastation when I received a phone call last Friday afternoon informing me that I hadn't been on my insurance long enough to have the surgery. It turns out that NORMAL insurance companies require you to be covered for one year prior to any surgery. Reasonable, right? Well, my luck is not so great. Mine requires you to be covered for 18 months, and that won't happen until JUNE. Since it's my parents' insurance, I get kicked off when I turn 26, which happens in MAY. See the conundrum? This is not my happy face. I made calls. My dad made calls. I begged. He pleaded. To no avail. These vestigial organs are staying firmly and infectiously inside my throat. I had some monies saved up so as to pay for my life while I was languishing on that lovely couch, so yesterday I made a decision. I was going to spend it. Now don't freak, not all of it. But I was mad and when I'm mad one of my favorite things to do is shop. Since I have a huge job interview tomorrow (all prayers are appreciated), new dress pants were definitely in order. I'm pretty sure that the only good thing that has come out of this whole mess are those pants. I won't lie to you; my butt has never looked better.

The Weekend Update, featuring your favorite Girl...

2011-03-06T14:47:00.003-07:00

I know what you're all thinking. Two posts in two days, how did you all get so stinking lucky? Feel blessed because with the whirlwind that this next week is going to be, you're not going to be hearing..er, reading, my delightful and charming comments on life all that much. Blame the biggest job interview of my young life and a whole lot of homework, combined with the fact that my weekend was entirely unproductive in the classical sense of productivity though you'd never know if you asked me how long I slept, total, between Friday night and Sunday morning (9 hours, for the record). What was I doing with all that time, you wonder? Whelp, I'm about to tell you, so get super excited. Um, excuse me, those are not your super excited faces. I can see through the computer. It's another one of my sidekick powers. Okay, that's better. Where was I? Oh yes, what I did with my weekend. Well, young (and not so young) grasshoppers, I spent my weekend here, watching this and dying a little at it's sheer and complete awesomeness. But that doesn't take up the other 63 hours of my weekend, now does it? On Friday a good portion of it was spent at work, which is much less fun to talk about so we'll just skip that, now won't we? After the show on Friday night (which was beyond epic, seriously. I'm not even joking or exaggerating for dramatic effect) I was lucky enough to get to meet some of the cast and Jill Santoriello, who wrote the script, music and lyrics to A Tale of Two Cities (squee!!) and have dessert with them at Applebee's. I KNOW, RIGHT? Oh wait. Most of you are not the die hard theater nerd that I am. Well, show me your excited faces anyway, please and thank you. It was incredibly neat to get to meet some of my favorite characters as real people and made me love the show all the more (I know what you're thinking: that is outside the realm of possibility, but I assure you, it is not). This little party lasted late into the night, which pretty much meant that I only slept for 3 hours on Friday (sheer excitement + whopping migraine + a Diet Coke + 2 Excedrine = completely wired version of Mal that was literally vibrating). Saturday held another viewing of the show and dinner with my Theatre Fairy Sara and then, (because we're complete nerds) we went to the talk back with Jill and the cast. Sigh. It was magical.
There are a myriad of reasons why I love theater (and not all of them have to do with ridiculously darling boys), but one of the biggest and most profound is that I love how much detail matters to a good performer during a truly epic performance. I love that those little nuances and tiny elements can change a character and flavor of an overall performance. And while I will never have the talent or skill set to be on stage and create that kind of magic for an audience, I love that I get to be part of that world, even if it's just for a little while.

I loved every second of my Hale filled weekend.

Wherein I realize that I'm the sidekick...

2011-03-05T03:33:00.003-07:00

Sometimes I have epic realizations. I know, right? You never would expect that coming from me. I do it just to keep you on your toes. When you think I'm going to zig, I'll zag and the next time I'll zig, just to mess you up for the time after that when I zag. I'm pretty great like that. Anyway, back to my epic realization. I came to the conclusion that I'm the sidekick in the classic and storied tradition of characters such as Morgan Grimes, Robin, Tinkerbell, Smee (who I actually danced in our jazz company's production of Peter Pan), Barney Rubble, Dr. Watson, Samwise Gamgee and Chewbacca. Now don't try to argue with me. It's the truth. I am a truly fantastical sidekick because as you all know from years of watching cartoons, the sidekick is typically plays the court jester role. Trips over her own feet, says ridiculously silly things when she's trying desperately to be serious, has memorable catch phrases and shakes up the mood when the tension gets to be too much, like when the heroine is diffusing a bomb or hitting on a cute guy or something equally as life changing and world saving. These are all of the things that I'm best at. Ask my friends. I'll even give you examples for your reading pleasure (and to strengthen my case.)

Exhibit A:
On New Year's Eve my friends and I went to Hale Centre Theatre to see Born Yesterday. Aside from the show itself being delightful, there was a particularly dashing young gentleman playing one of the main characters. Now before I finish this story, you all MUST understand something essential. This particular guy is insanely attractive, like make your legs turn to jelly good looking. Which is exactly what happened to me when I met him. I was wearing 3 inch heels and I ended up having to take them off because I had completely lost my ability to balance after he hugged me and then put his arm around me while we were talking. I was ready to liquefy. It provided endless entertainment for my friends; partly because I turned scarlet when anyone brought it up again and partly because my hands were shaking so badly that I couldn't hold my car keys.

Example Dos:
At what is quite possibly the most intense part of Star Wars Episode II (when Anakin and Padme are confessing their undying love for one another) I looked at the screen and said, "Don't worry, you'll make babies." This is one of my more tame examples of my mouth acquiring a mind of its own when I'm not actively paying attention. The rest...don't really need to be shared in a public forum.

Exhibit C-Eleventy:
Really? I need to give you an exhibit C? Fine.
Memorable catch phrases:
"Weeeeeelllll...."
"Don't judge."
"This is my insert emotion here face."
"I'm awesome."
"Look at you!"

The heroine usually has some task that she hates to do, so the responsibility to complete said task falls to the sidekick, i.e. Sara doesn't love to drive, and I do. Also, the sidekick is usually mini. I'm travel sized for your convenience.

The sidekick tends to talk a lot...I'm excellent at talking.

The sidekick is usually younger than the heroine; most of my friends (except KMJ) are older than me.

I rest my case.

The end of an era...

2011-03-03T09:22:00.005-07:00

Alright. So. Every semester I make a soundtrack for my life. Each of the songs that appears on said soundtrack MUST have some sort of connection to how I feel about life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness (or as one of my students put it so eloquently last semester, "life, liberty and the right to chill.") Past versions have included everything from "Defying Gravity" from Wicked to "Waking Up in Vegas" by Katy Perry. What can I say? I like to be diverse. There's always one song in particular that's my theme song. Yes. I have a theme song. Yes, you might throw this into the delusions of grandeur category. G'head. Get the judging out of your system, I'll wait... I went and walked around my office just now. Was that enough judging time for you? I hope so. Anyway, for over a year my theme song didn't change, which was unusual. Typically, the theme song changes with the soundtrack, but this one stuck with me. I'll give you a little clip of it.

My favorite version isn't actually Barbara's, but I figured that I'd go for classic. I usually have the Lea Michele version on my soundtrack. Call me trendy if you must, but it has nothing to do with trend and everything to do with the fact that I'm madly in love with her voice; say what you will about Glee, you can't knock that girl's pipes. I could listen to this song just under a jillion times a day and not get sick of it (which is still true) but I've found a song that better describes how I feel about life right now.

Isn't it incredible? Aren't the lyrics fantastic? Trust me, the actual song is better. It's almost as good as listening to her sing it live. Now go, friends. Go and listen to this epicness over and over again. I promise you, it's that good.

You know how...

2011-02-28T13:30:00.002-07:00

during finals week you have those insane dreams about sleeping in and missing your final? Or the fact that you're on your way to take a math exam and you forgot your calculator? You rush around in a blind panic because you can't miss your exam and usually wake yourself up because you're thrashing in your blankets?

Sometimes it's not a dream.

Like this morning.

It went something like this:

I decided to let myself sleep in a little because I have a whole TWO hours between school and work, giving me ample time to come home and beautify myself for the day. I got up around 9:10, brushed my teeth and decided to check my email to see if I had any emails from my favorite missionaries. I'm reading through Sestra Staheli's email when I look down at the clock on my computer and realize that my exam is in exactly 16 minutes. I throw a sweatshirt on over my pajamas and race out of my house with my purse. As I'm driving like a maniac down 9th East, going through the equations for compounding interest and stocks and bonds, I realize that I didn't grab my calculator. Panic had officially set in. At this point I actually pinched myself to be sure that I wasn't having some sort of insanely detailed and realistic dream. I then made a VERY dangerous U turn and booked it back to my house, ran down the stairs, grabbed my calculator and set off once again for the U. As was my luck this morning, I'm stuck behind a bus (I loathe public transportation) and the slowest driver known to man until I hit 4th South. I don't think I've ever taken that corner so quickly in my entire tenure at school. The time? 9:39. I had exactly 60 seconds to drive up the hill, turn on left on 1850 East, turn right on South Campus Drive, turn left on Mario Capecchi Drive, turn left on to North Campus Drive, go through the roundabout, come out on Central Campus Drive, drive to the closest visitor parking lot to OSH, run into room 202, snag a test and sit down in my seat on the front row. Even at super speed, that's fairly close to impossible. I've never wanted the ability to Apparate more in my entire life. I settled for driving like I was from southern California while trying my hardest not to swear. I made it into the room at 9:50. I'm beyond proud to say that I finished the entire exam in exactly 30 minutes, knew that answer to every single problem and didn't cry once.

It's more than I can say for my first exam in my 1010 class.

I've got this problem with crying...

2011-02-23T22:48:00.001-07:00

Once I start,

I can't stop.

And what makes it so awful is

that if I cry and longer

than five minutes

(which of course I always do)

my eyes swell up like a boxer's

for at least twenty-four hours.

I've tried ice packs.

I've tried the cold cucumber cure.

I've even tried raw steak.

But nothing works.

Ever.

So when I've been crying,

I pray for sunshine

because if it's cloudy out

everyone keeps asking my

why I'm wearing my sunglasses,

and I get so embarrassed

that I start to cry.

and once I start,

I can't stop.

What My Mother Doesn't Know pg. 32

Now don't go around thinking that I put this up here because I'm depressed or crying my darling blue eyes out every day. I'm doing no such thing on any kind of regular basis, because when I get sad, I stop being sad and be awesome instead. True story. (Sidebar: I've thought from time to time that maybe I should cry a little more often. I've been told that when I cry my eyes turn a really pretty shade of blue green. Something to consider. Could help solve my lack of boyfriend issue.) I did have One of Those Days today, though. Those days where all you need is a really good, hard cry to make yourself feel better. Blame it on that extra X chromosome or something, but there are just days where crying is the only thing can release all of the...the...ness for lack of a better term...that builds up inside. It's akin to a pressure cooker. Crying is one of the best release valves around. It's right up there with driving really really fast and throwing soft things at people who bug you on the release scale.There are just some days where nothing particularly terrible has happened, but you just need a good old fashioned sob session to feel like yourself again. My only trouble with this is that, much like Sophie in above poetic masterpiece, my eyes swell up like a boxer's. Good thing I don't really care what other people think of me, right?

The Day of the Presidents' Birth...

2011-02-21T19:50:00.001-07:00

Can I please just share with all of you that I adore Monday holidays more than other types of holidays? I love that I get to sleep in. I love that I don't have class. Mostly, it just all around rocks. Today was particularly fantastic because I got to see my darling Alissa. We decided to have an Italy in Salt Lake day. We went here:

And I had this:

Alissa had this:

Oh and I'll give you a picture of Alissa because she's darling:

Sorry, it's a little dark, but isn't she cute?

Here's a little more fun:

Um, just so you know, that focaccia bread changed my life.

Then there was some of this:

"Snow suit up!"

"It's gonna be ledgend-wait for it and I hope you're not lactose intolerant because the second half of that word is DAIRY!!"

"Dang it, Past Ted!"

"Tell me that I'm your best friend!"

"'Booger!' 'Yes, hello Barney.'"

"It tasted like freedom. No, it tasted like pennies."

Are you jealous? Be jealous. I am awesome. I was also lucky enough to get a little time with this chicky:

We mocked people's blogs. We talked about how she was going to come see me when I get my tonsils yanked. Mostly, I love her and seeing her made my day even more fantastical.

Dear Presidents,

I really appreciate you being born. I'm sure grateful for the day off work and the extra time to become addicted to TV shows that are hilarious and amazing and see my incredible friends.

Love and rockets,

Mals

Did you know...

2011-02-19T23:48:00.001-07:00

Did you know that it is physically impossible for me to walk down a set of stairs? I bounce. Which is why I've twisted both of my ankles so many times that the muscles are like rubber bands.

Did you know that in one week I went to the ballet, the theatre and the symphony? It's true and I loved every single second of each one. Huzzah for the arts!

Did you know that The Sleeping Beauty was the last full ballet that I danced in? I was the jester since I was a much better character dancer than anything else. The hat that I wore as part of my costume came all the way from Russia. The company director saw it in the airport and told me that it practically screamed my name. Too bad I didn't get to keep it. I would have worn it all over the place. It kinda looked like this:

I jingled when I walked. It was fab.

Did you know that this is quite possibly the single most incredible show that I've seen in my life? It almost beats Macbeth. It's tragic that it only ran on Broadway from September 2008 until November 2008.

Did you know the February 19th is the anniversary of the beginning of the Battle of Iwo Jima? It lasted from 19 February until 26 March 1945. It was kind of a big deal, you might have heard of it or something.

Did you know that it is possible to talk entirely in lines for plays and movies? It is. Ask Sara. We do it regularly.

Did you know that Stephanie J. Block played Elphaba in the national tour of Wicked? I saw her perform tonight at Abravanel Hall and I can now die a happy girl. She was spectacular.

Did you know that I'm one of only 8 people who's never seen Wicked on stage? Julia Murney informed me of that tonight.

Did you know that President Monson goes to the symphony? I definitely saw him there tonight. He's adorable.

Did you know that in 7th grade we sang My Heart Will Go On in choir and a bunch of the girls burst into tears? I wouldn't kid about something as ridiculous as that. I still can't hear that song without wanting to pull a Vincent Van Gogh. Naturally it would only be the one ear, I need the other hear to hear the music from Tale of Two Cities over and over again.

Did you know that John Kander and Fred Ebb wrote "Ring Them Bells" as a stand alone song for Liza Minnelli?

Did you know that "Don't Rain on My Parade" is my theme song?

Did you know that I collect headbands? And things that are polka dot? And argyle? And shoes? Oh my!

Did you know that I have the plague again? That's probably why this post is so stinking random. Pray March 17th gets here quick and they take these offending tonsils out of me so I can keep my voice for longer than a few weeks at a time?

Now don't get all bent out of shape...

2011-02-17T17:54:00.000-07:00

Ugh. Can I please express the utter displeasure that I experienced this morning when I was unceremoniously yanked from my bed at the disgusting hour of 7 am to find 4 inches of snow outside my window?
(I'm allowed to complain about the weather, I'm from Utah.) I'm completely over this whole snow thing. Don't send bad vibes my way, Amanda. It can snow in Pleasant Grove all it wants so long as it rains in Salt Lake, okay? Here's the list of reasons why snow and I should only have contact on a very limited basis:

-I'm short, so my pants drag on the ground unless I wear heels which isn't a good idea because...

-I'm clumsy. Case in point, this morning I slipped on ice and planted myself on the front lawn. I was wet for hours.

-I throughly loath driving in the white stuff. It's slippery and icy and scary.

-I don't think that I look so great in hats, so I rarely wear them which means that the snow ruins my hair.

-I absolutely hate when my feet are cold. No matter what kind of shoes I wear, my feet are always cold when it snows.

-Frozen mascara? So hard to put on.

-While the clothes are darling, I hate being hot under my jacket while my extremities are freezing.

I have a feeling that a move to warmer climates is definitely in order.

The first post of my recently dehijacked blog...

2011-02-16T08:00:00.010-07:00

So. This day showed up on the calendar pretty recently:

Don't use the term Single Awareness Day on my blog, please. It makes me want to gag. Here's my philosophy: Valentine's Day is just another day that overly schmoopy people use as an excuse to show an excessive amount of PDA while those around them do their best not to throw up in their mouths. I have made the decision that it's ridiculous to feel depressed on Valentine's Day. If I'm going to be unhappy about not having a boyfriend then I can do that on any other day of the calendar year. I mean, when it comes down to it, it's just as effective to be depressed on April 30th as it is on February 14th. I came to the conclusion that I was going to use Valentine's Day as an excuse to purchase these:

Can I just say huzzah for the student discount with Ballet West? Half off tickets? Yes, please!

Sara the Theare Fairy and I also indulged in a little of this:

Heaven in the form of pasta and flat bread from Noodles and Company. Between the Pesto Cavatappi and the next delight there was some lovely shopping at Old Navy. That was followed very closely by this:

This last picture almost didn't make it on this blog. You see, just after I snapped it the grouchy guard (ie usher) came, very curtly tapped me on the shoulder and said, "Excuse me, miss. You are not allowed to take photos in the theatre." I almost expected her to demand my camera so she could delete the picture. I was mortified. I mean, I'm sure that the flash taking photos of the curtain could cause mass panic and all, but I was on the mezzanine. Like anyone could even see the flash. Please, Grouchy Pants McGee.

Here is where I dissolve into a mess of ohhhs and ahhhs and technical ballet terms that half the people who read this blog won't really care about or even understand. Suffice it to say, it was bliss. After getting off on the wrong floor in the parking garage, being stuck in traffic and not being able to drive properly, there was some of this:

Right? Don't be jealous of how awesome my life is. I can't even believe it sometimes. Until I can find a guy who's willing to feed me pasta, let me go shopping at Old Navy, sit next to me while I melt over The Sleeping Beauty and then feed me Molten Chocolate Cake, I'll stay single.

El fin, the end... (day 30)

2011-02-15T08:00:00.007-07:00

(Um, hi. It's me. Don't forget to vote in my poll, right -----> there. Kthanksbye!)

I made the picture small so as not to frighten little children or my readers. This is from Sunday night, not today, but I didn't have time to take a picture today. Don't judge.

Now that I've driven you all away with my scariness, I'll tell you three good things that have happened to me in the past.

1) My freaking awesome jobs. Yes, that's right. I get paid to watch football in the fall and then I get paid to talk about something that I LOVE with students that I love. Can't get better than that.

b) Discovering Jane Austen. My life is richer for it. Truly.

thirdly) My brilliant discovery of my love for pointy toed heels. Love it.

Before I die... (day 29)

2011-02-14T08:00:00.001-07:00

I want to learn to do this!

"You may say I'm a dreamer, but I'm not the only one." --John Lennon (day 28)

2011-02-13T21:09:00.001-07:00

First and foremost, will all of you PLEASE vote in my poll? Yes that poll. The one in the right hand corner.

My future is in your hands, my dearest, darlingest, lovely blog readers. If I end up becoming a waste of space I'm going to blame it on your lack of participation. Do you want a girl's future resting on your head like that? The answer is no. You don't. So. Do the votings, okay? Please and thank you.

Alright, on to today's post. (Can I please tell you that as much as I've loved reading everything that you, my darling friends, have written in connection with this game, I'm going to be excited to have my blog unhijacked when it's all over? There. I got it off my chest.)

Whenever anyone talks about hopes and dreams, I always think of this line in the 2008 miniseries of Sense and Sensibility when Marianne asks Elinor what she and Lucy Steele were talking about in the garden so long. This is the part where the evil and plotting Lucy tells Elinor of her secret engagement to Edward, remember? Okay good. Anyway, Elinor answers back that Lucy was telling her all of her hopes and dreams for the future, so it leaves kind of a bad taste in my mouth because I hate Lucy Steele. So in lieu of hopes and dreams, here are the list of things that I plan on accomplishing in the next 365 days:

-Graduate from college (it's okay, you can shout "Finally!" I am.)

-Get a real, grown up job (See this goal, Teach for America? Can you please make it happen? Kthanksbye!)

-Go blonde (again)

-Go on a road trip somewhere awesome

-See the Shakespeare Festival...Midsummer Night's Dream, anyone?

-Attend Tale of Two Cities at the Hale Centre Theatre more times than I saw Born Yesterday....which was more than I am willing to admit in any type of public forum.

-Find some awesome black boots.

-Reread the Book of Mormon

-See the last Harry Potter..sniff

-Speak more Spanish because I miss it terribly

-Learn to make pupusas again

-Eventually ween myself off of Facebook...quit your laughing. I can do it, just you watch.

-See a Broadway show

-Take Yoda on some rockin' adventures

-Go to London

How's that for 'hopes and dreams?'

Someone I couldn't live without... (day 27)

2011-02-12T08:00:00.000-07:00

Hands down, he's the cutest kid ever.

In my own little corner...

2011-02-11T08:00:00.000-07:00

...in my own little chair... (name the musical!). Anyway, I've already posted pictures of my room here. I've added this treasure since I took those pictures...

Don't be jealous of my awesomeness. It's a natural talent.

My worst habit... (day 25)

2011-02-10T08:00:00.000-07:00

Not only do I bite my finger nails, but I pick at my nail polish incessantly when it chips.

Recipe.. (day 24)

2011-02-09T08:00:00.000-07:00

This is quite possibly one of my very favorite things that my mom makes when I go home. It's a pumpkin sheet cake with cream cheese frosting and it's to die for. Honestly. I don't use that phrase lightly. Get ready to eat your weight in pumpkin cake.

2 cups flour
1 tsp baking soda
1 tsp salt
2 cups sugar
1 tsp baking soda
1 tsp cloves
1tsp nutmeg
1 cup oil
4 eggs
15 oz pumpkin

Bake in greased large cookie sheet, Bake at 350 for @ 30 or 40 min. until golden brown Frost with Cream Cheese Frosting.

I accept all sorts of things as thank you gifts.

I have never been good at... (day 23)

2011-02-08T11:40:00.001-07:00

the favorites game. Not that I don't have favorites. I do. I just have lots of them. It's the same way with today's post. There hasn't only been one thing impacting my life lately. I'm the luckiest person on the planet and I have all sorts of good things influencing my little self right now. Here are a few:

(HA! I found a picture of Sara that she posed for! This is the Theatre Fairy! She's elusive about the whole picture thing, which why there hasn't been any picture of her until now.)

Okay so... (day 22)

2011-02-07T08:00:00.003-07:00

I'm obviously not married and am not going to be anytime soon but, like any silly, single girl, I have most of what I want my wedding to look like planned out. Without further ado:

The Dress:

The bouquet:

The brides' maids' dresses:

The groom's men:

Other flowers:

The cake:

So it's the wrong colors. Don't judge. Replace the brown with black and the blue with green. And take the flowers off the top.

Now all I need is the groom....

Does this count as a hobby? (day 21)

2011-02-06T08:17:00.003-07:00

Does going to see every single show at Hale Centre Theatre multiple times count as a hobby?

I happen to have the most awesome Theatre Fairy ever.

Be jealous.

Talented... (day 20)

2011-02-05T08:00:00.002-07:00

I've never been one of those people with an excess of talent to spread around like mad, unless you count my sparkling wit and horrible spelling as talents, but there is one thing that I'm quite good at (she says with a modest blush) and that's this:

I love making cards, especially cards with my quotes from some of my favorite books and movies.

If you like, let me know. My services are for hire.

Oh the places I'll go... (day 19)

2011-02-04T08:16:00.000-07:00

A better questions would be where don't I want to go?

I have a completely awesome memory...(day 18)

2011-02-03T08:00:00.002-07:00

No, really. I do. I have a tendency to remember really ridiculous stuff for the most random reasons. But most of my favorite memories have to do with my birthdays. Here's a picture of my 24th birthday, which was by far and away one of my best:

That's me. With my amazing cake. Wearing a crown.

And here's the next year. Wearing the same crown. And a musketeer on each arm and a generous blush on my cheeks.

Special times.

What may you ask... (day 17)

2011-02-02T08:00:00.003-07:00

...is my favorite website? I'll give you a hint. You can find something that looks like this there:

This amazingness is to be found here. Honestly, I laugh every time I pull it up.

Join me in the laughing, won't you?

Changed... (day 16)

2011-02-01T08:00:00.003-07:00

Cue the tears.

I can never get through this song without crying.

If there weren't so many incredible people in my life, then I suppose it wouldn't have that affect on me, but alas, I'm so blessed that I can't help but tear up when I think of all of the amazing friends I that have come into my life, at just the right time, having just the right skills.

Thank you to each and everyone of you who has come into my life, because of you, I have been changed for the better.

My new friends... (day 15)

2011-01-31T08:00:00.016-07:00

I was lucky enough to meet not one, but two new friends this past year. They now rank among my very favorite people on the planet.

Number One:

Lilia Mynonne Shaw

Here she was only a couple of days old, but in the last 8 months we've become buddies.

I kind of love her. A lot.

Number 2:

Keegan Alexander Mecham

He's my favorite Peanut. Honestly. We talk on the phone when he's at Grana and Papa's house (my parents). Every time I get him on the phone he giggles because he knows it's his Auntie M. It's love.

Wouldn't you want...(day 14)

2011-01-30T08:00:00.003-07:00

to trade places with her too? Aside from the fact that she's totally gorgeous, I have real reasons for wanting to be Yvonne Strahovski.

Here's why.

1) She has amazing hair. I mean, look at it!? If I could get away with looking like an adult as a blonde than I'd do it, but alas. I look like I'm 12.

2) She's Australian, which means she has an awesome accent.

3) She does most of her own stunts. Cool, no?

4) She's super into service.

and last but definitely not least,

5) She gets PAID to kiss Zac Levi.

Hard job? I think not.

The twisted world of my purse... (day 13)

2011-01-29T08:03:00.002-07:00

I got a new purse for Christmas (thanks Squeeg!) and it's always chuck full. It has 2 big pockets. Everything. My requirement is that I have to be able to fit a book in whatever bag I carry. I'm not one of those girls that you'll see running around with a clutch because what book can fit in there?

Currently contained in my darling grey bag are the following items:

1) My black and white hounds-tooth wallet

(Target special, baby! $6 two days before Christmas!!)

2) Chuck, my iPod

3) My iPod cord and headphones

4) 3 different kinds of lip treatment

5) Cell phone

6) A copy of "Summers at Castle Auburn" (yesterday it was "Crown Duel")

7) My planner aka my entire brain and mini red/black/green pens to color code my life with

8) Spearmint gum

9) Back up earings

10) Cough drops and Dayquil just in case the plague comes on suddenly.

What's in your bag?

Remember how I'm OCD about everything? (day 12)

2011-01-28T08:28:00.003-07:00

Yup yup. It's true. I am. Here's one thing is all it's organized glory:

Color coordinated. All the hangers facing the same way. Sweatshirts sorted by which I wear most often.

I'm insane.

The other thing that I completely freak out about is even more odd, if you can believe it. I can't stand it when a professor is erasing the board and doesn't get it completely clean.

I can't concentrate on anything else until they figure out that they've missed something.

You can call the nice men in white coats to take me away now.

Don't freak... (day 11)

2011-01-27T07:21:00.006-07:00

Now. This is "picture of something that makes you angry or sad". Please don't scream or throw things at your computer screen. It's just a picture, okay?

....scroll down when you're ready.

Ug. My eye is twitching just looking at this.

(Don't go and get the idea that I'm some sort of major conservative. The woman just BUGS me.)

If you're happy and you know it... (day 10)

2011-01-26T08:19:00.003-07:00

Sigh. Baseball cap + brown eyes = happy Mal

Dream a little dream of...future house (day 9)

2011-01-25T15:16:00.000-07:00

There's a house on 9th East between 13th and 17th South in Sugarhouse and I'm in love with. Honestly. Part of me wants to knock on the door and ask the owners if maybe I could just move in. The hang up is, I don't have a picture of it. So I've included a few pictures of rooms that I adore. I've noticed a pattern in that they mostly end up being white and have huge windows. Who knew.

The middle one is probably my favorite. So. Many. Books. It's pretty much what I imagine heaven looking like.

Words words words... (day 8)

2011-01-24T08:06:00.003-07:00

My mom always teases me about my obsession with words. I love 'em. Here is a favorite quote of mine:

"If love make me forsworn, how shall I swear to love?

Ah, never faith could hold, if not to beauty vowed!

Though to myself forsworn, to thee I'll faithful prove;

Those thoughts to me were oaks, to thee like osiers bowed.

Study his bias leaves, and makes his book thine eyes,

Where all those pleasures live that art would comprehend.

If knowledge be the mark, to know thee shall suffice;

Well learned is that tongue that well can thee commend;

All ignorant that soul that sees thee without wonder;

Which is to me some praise that I thy parts admire,

Thy eye Jove's lightening bears, thy voice his dreadful thunder.

Which, not to anger bent, is music and sweet fire,

Celestial as thou art, O, pardon love this wrong,

That singes heaven's praise with such an earthly tongue."

-Shakespeare's Love's Labour's Lost

Written by Berowne for Rosaline

Isn't it lovely? It just makes you want to be in love, doesn't it?

The friend I've had for the longest...(day 7)

2011-01-23T08:05:00.006-07:00

This is probably my very favorite picture ever.

This is my mom and I when I was 3.

We had just come back from a family reunion in Bear Lake and were driving back to California.

Cute, right?

Bookworm...(day 6)

2011-01-22T08:50:00.004-07:00

Remember how I told you that there were 3 subjects in the All About Me game that I'd never be able to only pick one favorite for? This is one of them. So. I'll give you a list of 6...trust me, it's a whole lot smaller than it could be.

Child geniuses? Fighting in zero gravity? Amazing sci-finess that I usually won't admit that I love?

YES PLEASE. Ender Wiggin is my hero.

Polly Milton is quite possibly one of the most charming characters ever written.

This is one of my very favorite guilty pleasure books. It has just the right amount of romance, magic and intrigue. I HIGHLY recommend it.

I almost left this book off out of sheer stupidity. Honestly and truly, it's one of my favorite books. There are certain parts that I reread on a weekly basis. FANTASTIC!!

Pretty sure that Mrs. Shelton had no idea what she was unleashing when she handed me this book in 10th grade honors English. I was in love by the end of the first chapter. It was the beginning of a life long interest in the Jewish faith.

Cinderella is one of my most favorite fairy tales and no one rewrites a fairy tale better than Gail Carson Levine.

Remember how I'm obsessed with...(day 5)

2011-01-21T07:41:00.003-07:00

TV? Yeah, I do. So here's my top 3 favorite shows...in no particular order.

Who in their right mind wouldn't love my Gilmore Girls?

"Underwear, hockey puck, monkey monkey underpants!"

"Help me Chuck Bartowski, you're my only hope."

"Objectively I'd say I'm very smart, but it has nothing to do with my ass." (Don't be offended by the fact that I didn't censor that for you. Bones is too funny to censor.)

Photographic proof that I used to be darling...(day 4)

2011-01-20T08:49:00.002-07:00

So, apparently I'm not technologically gifted. Don't judge. I tried scanning these at work and it wouldn't scan the pictures individually which drove me nuts and now I'm frustrated with the whole technology world in general. I was eventually forced to take pictures of the pictures with the handy dandy camera on my cell phone so the quality leaves something to be desired.

This is at a May birthday party (there are 3 of us grandkids born in May so we always celebrated together) when I was 6 or 7. I vaguely remember being upset that the cupcake got all over my face despite my concerted effort to keep it off.

Yes. I wearing my daddy's glasses. Reading a Winnie the Pooh book. In my underwear. How kind of you to ask for clarification.

Pure cinematic joy...(day 3)

2011-01-19T12:33:00.001-07:00

If you know me at all, you know that I have about eleventy billion favorite movies, so I'll write about my favorite of the moment. I saw Dear Frankie over the holiday break and instantly fell in love. Aside from the fact that Frankie is pure charm, Gerard Butler is... well, watch for yourself.

Right?!

Auditory Delight... (day 2)

2011-01-18T08:18:00.005-07:00

When I looked at the list there were 3items that I was positive that I'd never be able to choose just one 'favorite' for, so I decided not to. It's my blog for heaven's sake. So...Behold. My favorite songs.

Guster is probably my all time favorite band. They were the first real music that I fell madly in love with as a lowly high school student. I can never get enough of anything they write. And I own every CD they've released. Amazing with a capital A.

This lovely little ditty became one of my favorite songs and is my anthem for change. I'm almost embarrassed to admit that I've listened to it almost 200 times in the past year, but then I listen to it's sheer awesomeness again and I'm not even a little, tiny bit ashamed.

Happy listening!

A post script (or two):

Dearest Amy, I love the idea of Day 30. (The 29 day plan bugged me as well.) Thanks for being your fantastic self and giving me lovely ideas.

Loves, Mal

Dear friends aside from Amy who I tagged to do this,

Add this to your list, por favor. :)

Day 30 - a photo of yourself today + three good things that have happened in the past.

Love and rockets,

Mal

Just because I love Mindy Sue... (day 1)

2011-01-17T17:17:00.002-07:00

and because it means I won't have to come up with anything new to post on my blog for almost a month.
Behold. The All About Me game. Each day the blogger must post each of these items for the viewing pleasure of her readers.

Day 1 – a recent photo of you

Day 2 – your favorite song

Day 3 – your favorite movie

Day 4 – a photo of you as a child

Day 5 – your favorite television program

Day 6 – your favorite book

Day 7 – a picture of you and the person you have been closest with the longest

Day 8 – your favorite quote

Day 9 – your dream house (description or photo!)

Day 10 – a photo that makes you happy

Day 11 – a photo that makes you angry/sad

Day 12 – something you are OCD about

Day 13 – a description of what's currently in your handbag/purse/diaper bag!

Day 14 – a photo of a person you’d love to trade places with for a day

Day 15 – a photo of yourself and a new friend you met this year

Day 16 – a song that makes you cry

Day 17 – your favorite website

Day 18 – a photo of your favorite memory

Day 19 – a picture of somewhere you’d like to travel

Day 20 – a talent of yours

Day 21 – a hobby of yours

Day 22 – a photo of your wedding/future wedding plans

Day 23 – a photo of something that has made a huge impact on your life recently

Day 24 – a recipe

Day 25 – your worst habit

Day 26 – a photo of where you live

Day 27 – a photo of someone you could never imagine your life without

Day 28 – your hopes, dreams, plans for the next 365 days

Day 29 – a picture of something you want to do before you die

Now for today's post:

Quit your judging. I know I look like a sheep dog. I haven't had time for a hair cut in about a month and I don't want anyone but Linds to touch my hair. This was taken New Years' Eve before Squeeg and I embarked on an adventure of awesomeness at Hale Centre Theatre.

(I'm pretty sure that I'm supposed to tag a few people to do this. Don't hate me. It's the rules. So, Amy, Aubie, Nevitt and KMJ, join me in the fun, won't you?)

"And you call yourself a Star Wars fan."

2011-01-13T08:00:00.002-07:00

A friend of mine sent me this. And I love it. Because I'm that girl.

(Grocery Store | Austin, TX, USA)

(I was at work and I saw two girls from my college I knew as acquaintances, but not as much more than that. I had a crush on one of them as she was really pretty and seemed nice for the most part. I watched as she and her friend approached the register.)

My Crush: “No, you’re wrong! I’m telling you, he never said that!”

(I assumed they were gossiping about something until I listened a little more to the conversation.)

Her Friend: “No, he did! He totally did! We watched it last night, stupid!”

My Crush: “Obi-Wan never says, ‘I love you, Anakin’. The line is ‘You were my brother, Anakin. I loved you!’.”

Her Friend: “No!”

My Crush: *turns to me* “Oh hey [my name]! What’s up?”

Me: “Not much. I’m good. And you’re right; Obi-Wan’s line was ‘You were my brother, Anakin. I loved you’.”

My Crush: “Oh, my God, thank you!” *turns to her friend* “And you call yourself a Star Wars fan.”

(Her friend scowled, but they paid and said goodbye. I watched as they got to the automatic doors. Her friend pretendsed to use ‘The Force’ on them. Suddenly, my crush jumped in front of her.)

My Crush: “YOU SHALL NOT PASS!”

(I walked over and asked her out. We got married a month ago.)

Fantastic, no? Thanks, J!

Wanted...

2011-01-11T00:01:00.006-07:00

* Someone who doesn't mind that I throw empty water bottles at the television while my football team is playing poorly. And that I tend to yell advice to the coaches. This someone must also have random things that he does while watching sports so as to help us bond.

*Someone who is willing to eat whatever I am in the mood to cook because I stink at cooking for only one person.

*Someone who will dance in the kitchen with me in stocking feet while we sing off tune together like my parents did while I was growing up.

*Someone who will suffer through a ballet/play/opera/symphony performance because I love it.

*Someone who will attempt to get me to play video games and only kind of make fun of me when I end up killing myself or my teammates because I have terrible hand-eye coordination.

*Someone who will argue with me just for the sake of having a lively debate.

*Someone who has read some of the same books that I have. Having all that knowledge stored in my head is useless if I never get to talk about it with anyone.

*Someone who doesn't mind that I have a morbid fascination with crime shows but turn a lovely shade of teal if anyone mentions blood while I'm eating.

*Someone who leaves their socks on the floor so that I can put my obsessive cleaning tendencies to use on a more regular basis.

*Someone who understands (and will only judge a little) that sometimes I simply have to make up a word because there isn't one in a language that I speak which properly describes how I feel at that given moment.

*Someone who understands that I have a bubble eight miles thick and is willing to poke through it.

*Someone who isn't afraid to be grouchy or unreasonable around me because heaven knows that I will return the favor.

*Someone who doesn't mind teaching our kids math, because let's be honest: me + math = fear induced paralysis.

*Someone who doesn't mind if I, in a moment of absent mindedness, correct his grammar. Because it will happen.

*Someone who has a slightly crazy family.

*Someone who is as passionate about something as I am about teaching.

*Someone who can pick up on my Star Wars quotes. The nerdiness runs deep in the veins.

*Someone who's already read Ender's Game so that he doesn't think that it's odd when I read it twice a year.

"If growing up means it would be beneath my dignity to climb a tree, I'll never grow up, never grow up, never grow up! Not me!" Peter Pan

2011-01-04T16:46:00.000-07:00

I've made a decision.

I'm never growing up. Ever.

Mostly because I'm scared to pieces about it. I don't know anything about 401Ks, insurance policies or retirement plans. I still (on occasion) watch the Disney Channel and I own both "A Cinderella Story" and "Another Cinderella Story". And I watch them. I like sleeping in on Saturday mornings. Grown ups are supposed to get up early and clean or jog or something responsible like that. And they typically describe themselves as 'adults' as opposed to grown ups.

Enough jabbering and out with the truth of the matter:

I'm in major denial about graduating in May.

I'm half ecstatic, half paralyzed by fear.

What, may I ask, does one do with a history degree?

I like reading books and writing papers. I like going to class and taking notes. For heaven's sake, I like being a college student! Don't tell, but I like midterms and finals. The only kinds of exams which make me positively ill are of the mathematical variety. I enjoy studying.

Don't stone me, but it's the honest to goodness truth. I swear on Yoda. And my copy of Beauty and the Beast. And my Berlin T-shirt which reads. "You are leaving the American sector" in 4 languages.

How in heaven's name am I supposed to decide what I want to do for the next 10 to 20 years when I have a hard time deciding what I want to wear for the next 10 to 20 minutes? (Don't believe me? Ask my sisters. I change my clothes more than most people breathe.)

See, I can think of lots of things that sound fun to do: pilot the Millennium Falcon, become a ninja spy, find out what fruit cake is actually made from... but none of those are professions.

There's one thing that I really want to do. So badly that I can almost taste it:

I want to teach for Teach for America.

Desperately. Ardently. And any other adverbs that you can think of which convey intense desire. But it's not a sure thing. I can't guarantee that I'll be accepted.

So. Instead of face an uncertain reality, I've made the childish decision never to grow up.

Anyone care to join me?

My dear Wormwood...

2011-01-02T02:06:00.000-07:00

If you haven't ever read The Screwtape Letters then consider this an invitation to do so. It's one of the most incredible and life-changing books that I've ever had the lovely opportunity to read. For those of you who aren't familiar with the story, let me explain: the entire book is written in letters from one devil (Screwtape) to his nephew (Wormwood) who is a brand new devil. Each and every letter is filled with loads of advice on how Wormwood should properly tempt his patient away from the Enemy. I love this book for more reasons than can be properly calculated with current mathematical processes. In my humble opinion, C.S. Lewis was something far greater than a genius and I swear he wrote this particular book just for me, even though we've never met in real life (I have quite the vivid imagination though). I recently decided to reread it, mostly because I have a tendency to reread familiar books when I feel like my world is most especially out of control. These quotes are some of my particular favorites:

"Of course, in the precise moment of terror, bereavement, or physical pain, you may catch your man when his reason is temporarily suspended. But even then, if he applies to Enemy headquarters, I have found that the post is nearly always defended." pg. 24

"Now is may surprise you to learn that in His efforts to get permanent possession of a soul, He relies on the troughs even more than the peaks; some of His special favourites have gone through longer and deeper troughs than anyone else. The reason is this. To us a human is primarily food; our aim is the absorption of its will into ours, the increase of our own area of selfhood at its expense. But the obedience which the Enemy demands of men is quite a different thing...He really does want to fill the universe with a lot of loathsome little replicas of Himself-creatures whose life, on its miniature scale, will be qualitatively like His own, not because He has absorbed them but because their wills freely conform to His." pg. 38

"He leaves the creature to stand up on its own legs-to carry out from the will alone duties which have lost all relish. It is during such trough periods, much more than during the peak periods, that it is growing into the sort of creature He wants it to be. Hence the prayers offered in the state of dryness are those which please Him best. We can drag our patients along by continual temptation, because we design them only for the table, and then more their will is interfered with the better. He cannot 'tempt' to virtue as we do to vice. He wants them to learn to walk and must therefore take away His hand; and if only the will, to walk is really there He is pleased even with their stumbles." pg. 40

"Our cause is never more in danger than when a human, no longer desiring, but still intending, to do our Enemy's will, looks round upon a universe from which every trace of Him seems to have vanished, and asks why he has been forsaken, and still obeys." pg. 40

"He really loves the hairless bipeds He has created and always gives back to them with His right hand what He has taken away with His left." pg. 72

That's not even close to all of them, but I'm pretty sure that it would take me all night to type them out. I'm not even going to try lying to you, this might be one of my all time favorite books (as if you couldn't tell by all the gushing that I've already done) and I wasn't kidding when I said that I swear C.S. Lewis wrote this book with me in mind. I don't know if I've ever understood myself as well as I have when reading this book. Promise me you'll read it if you haven't already?

"I'm not too little! You're just hogging Laurie!"

2010-12-31T01:34:00.000-07:00

I remember the first time I ever read Little Women. I was in 4th grade. I was completely enchanted by Teddy and could never understand why in heaven's name Jo turned him down. (I know that I'm not the only one who has a problem with that. I've always said that when I meet Louisa May Alcott in heaven, we're going to have a long chat about that part.) I never really cared for the whole Amy/Teddy union. I might have been ever so slightly jealous... Remember how I get overly attached to fictional characters? Anyway, when I was in 5th grade I finally watched the Winona Ryder/Christian Bale/Susan Sarandon movie version. Christian Bale as Laurie? Yes please! It was as if my imagination had thrown up all over the screen; each and every character was sheer perfection, my exact idea of what my beloved March family should have been. I'm not going to lie, I still bawl my eyes out when Beth dies. I've always wished that I was more like Meg, she's so good and sweet but unfortunately, I'm just like Jo. I'm impulsive. I talk too much. I adore huge words and writing dramatic stories. I used to have long, gorgeous golden colored hair but I got all independent and had my mom chop it off. It wasn't for a good cause or anything, mostly just because I felt like it. I could never be like Beth, so angelic and kind. Amy was always too vain for me, though she's the one who ended up marrying my beloved Laurie. Plus, I always open up my mouth and say things I shouldn't, which is definitely a trait unique to Jo. And much like my lovely Jo, I don't like it when things change with my family. I'm forever wishing that things would stay just as they are.

Anyway, dear readers, I just thought that I'd share my musings on one of my most favorite books with all of you.

Loves!

Remember that one time...

2010-12-30T11:49:00.001-07:00

when I woke up and my eyes were swollen shut? I do, because it was this morning. Yup yup. I look like I've been crying my eyes out for days on end. I know what you're thinking. "How delightful! I'm so jealous! I've always wanted to attempt to open my eyes in the morning and have the lids stick together!"

I assure you it was a lovely feeling.

Also, remember that one time that I found out that they're going to pull my tonsils out of my throat? I do. It was yesterday. Which was all sorts of fun and exciting. Especially after they told me how much fun it's going to be. Who ever heard of feeling worse 7 days after you have surgery than you did the day after? That's a bunch of junk.

Last but so far from least, remember that one time that I completely passed my math class? There was joy and celebration and all sorts of goodness. It was the best Christmas present that I've ever gotten (okay, maybe not better than Yoda or the purse that Squeegee gave me, but pretty close).

What makes your days merry and bright?

2010-12-21T12:31:00.000-07:00

So let's be honest. I had a pretty idyllic childhood. I'm talking chocolate chip cookies when I came home from school and my mom leaving notes in my lunch. My birthdays were fairytalesque. Homemade crowns? Check. Barbie birthday cake? Double check. I know.

Don't be jealous.

I'm sure if you asked really nicely, my mom would make you a Barbie cake and a birthday crown. She's like Superwoman.

The point of all of this is that Christmas has always been the best time at my house. Everything smells like cinnamon. There's usually some sort of Christmas music playing and we spend all day on Christmas Eve baking cookies and making candy. Christmas Eve night we make gingerbread houses and watch Muppet Christmas Carol (the best version of a Christmas Carol ever created. Hands down. No contest. Period.)

I love that every year my dad has me stay up late to wrap my mom's Christmas presents.

I love that my mom and I drag one of the little TVs into the kitchen so we can watch Pride and Prejudice while we cook.

I love that all of my siblings and I sleep in the same room on Christmas Eve.

I love that my mom buys all of us girls matching pajama pants to open on Christmas Eve.

I love that even though I'm an adult, I still get excited when we all hide and watch Santa deliver our gifts on Christmas morning.

I love knowing that I bought my parents the perfect Christmas gifts.

I love that my mom makes crepes and homemade hot cocoa on Christmas morning before we all fall back asleep.

I love that Mckay tries, quite unsuccessfully every year, to get me to stay awake during whatever movie he got for Christmas by jumping on me while I'm asleep on the living room floor.

I love that we always go see a Christmas movie as a family at the movie theater.

I love that I can usually get Max or Cole to rub my feet while we watch the Bones marathon on USA.

Mostly, I just love that normally I have to act like an adult, but at Christmas, I get to feel like a little kid again.

What do YOU love about Christmas?

Who needs cigarettes?

2010-12-18T19:14:00.000-07:00

When you can achieve that gravelly-sexy-death-warmed-over-like-voice

all on your own

every six weeks without even trying?

Are you all as sick of hearing about me getting sick as I am of being sick?

Finals ended on Wednesday for me and I woke up Thursday morning with a set of tonsils that felt as big as tennis balls. (Too graphic? Get over it.)

I've had endless cups of warm, spiced cider from various establishments around Salt Lake City and have downed more bottles of water and cough drops than I care to count.

Lucky for me, I have a large carton of ice cream in my freezer which feels excellent on my throat.

(Shout out to Jourdan who gave it to me...)

I think my most favorite part about all of this is that I constantly smell like hand sanitizer and cough syrup.

If that's not alluring, I don't know what is.

A new member of the blog, we have...

2010-12-14T13:25:00.000-07:00

Why yes. That is Yoda. Balancing on a rubber band ball. Near my desk. Don't worry. You're going to be seeing quite a bit of Yoda. Sara the Theatre Fairy gave him to me as a Christmas present and I've decided that he's going to be my very own Flat Stanly type character and join me on all my many adventures. Don't worry, I know I'm awesome. But reminders are always appreciated.

(Knowing my complete and total love of Star Wars is a requirement to be my friend. If you missed that memo, better get on it quick.)

Proof that God loves me...

2010-12-13T11:50:00.003-07:00

(Aside from the fact that I have simply fantastic friends AND that He created the likes of Zachary Levi and Michael Bublé.)

I've mentioned it before and I'm sure that my total and complete lack of blogging and socializing in general have been excellent evidence, but this semester has been a rough one for me. My usual zeal and adoration for school have been completely absent. I think that part of the problem was that I did not have a single, solitary history class this semester. That's never happened to me in my entire college career. And apparently, my subconscious did not enjoy it. The other factor could be that senioritis has reigned supreme in my universe since May. I am so totally and completely ready to be done with my undergrad and on to something, anything, else.

Don't get me wrong, I love the safety and security of the U campus. I love that I know where all my buildings are. I love that professors know me. I have friends here. If I could pick one word to describe how I feel about life in general right now it would be comfortable. I have a rhythm. I'm the type of person who craves over all stability, with little bursts of change here and there. I blame my mother for this. She fed me, bathed me and put me to bed at the same time every single night as a baby. She instilled in me this need for a schedule and organization.

Anyway.

Back to my proof.

I've been hanging on for dear life all semester, just praying for Cs (since both of my classes were credit/no credit this semester a C wouldn't mar my fairly decent GPA) because I didn't have the energy required to be my normal Hermione like self. This morning, I checked my grades for my Geography class (in which I literally failed 50% of the assignments, but NOT for lack of trying) because we took our final insanely early.

I held my breath as I clicked on the little box which blinked "New Grades Posted" on WebCT. Part of me wanted to just close my eyes and have someone else look, but the mortification that would wash over me if I had, for the first time in my entire life, failed a class kept me from doing it.

It was one of those moments where I felt like the computer was particularly slow and exceedingly fast at the same time. Por fin, my grade popped up on the screen.

Who has two thumbs and has never been so happy to see the letter C in her life?

THIS GIRL!

That's right, dear readers, I passed.

Proof that God loves me and does, in fact, want me to pass my classes so I don't remain in college forever?

I think so.

Happy finals week!

The Worry Balloon...

2010-12-06T23:57:00.000-07:00

When I was in first grade, my teacher would blow up a balloon every day at the beginning of class and then she would have each of us channel our 'worries' in to it.

After our first grade troubles had been cast out of our minds, the balloon was then popped, symbolizing the fact that all our worries had been popped and were no longer relevant.

The logical part of my seven year old brain hated that freaking balloon. I knew that just because some stinking blown up piece of rubber was passed from grubby seven year hand old to germy seven year old hand, my worries wouldn't go away.

The irrational side of me worried that when we popped the balloon all my worries would find their way back into my brain and all that silliness would all have been for naught.

The older I get, the more I think about the worry balloon. This blog has sort of become my worry balloon to some extent. Can I just give you all the list of things that are keeping me up tonight?

-Finals.

This semester has been so crazy that I haven't been able to focus on my classes like I normally do. The only thing that I'm honestly afraid of in life is failure.

-My grandma.

She's not been feeling well but won't let me take her to the doctor. Stubborn lady.

-Money.

Remember how the colonists bought the island of Manhattan for some glass beads? Can we go back to that?

-My students and their inability to understand the meaning of the term 'deadline'.

Emphasis on the dead. They also struggle to comprehend the meanings of words such as due, preparation and study.

-Work.

I love my job but my boss is the ultimate perfectionist. I live in constant fear of messing up and her freaking out all over me.

-Bugs.

Yes. This is quite possibly the most irrational of all of my worries. I know I'm crazy. No need to warn me. But they always seem to find their way into my room during the winter. Yuck!!

Well there you have it. My own version of the worry balloon. Fear not, my dears. The worrying has not dampened my effervescent holiday spirit nor my desire to find delightful Christmas presents and my cards are going out this week. Start checking your mailboxes!!

In which Casey gets a tune up...

2010-12-04T23:33:00.000-07:00

No, not the real Casey, crazies. My computer. I know, I know. You're all thinking that it's about time that I stop naming inanimate objects, but I've got news for you: that's never going to happen. I always have and always will give my electronics and other large purchases names:

My iPod? Chuck.

My car? Fitz, short for Fitzwilliam.

My last computer? Howie.

This lovely little machine is called Casey because he has survived more virus attacks and reformatting than any computer should have to and most of them aren't even his fault. He's been completely wiped 4 times since I purchased him 18 months ago, and he's such a champ. Comes back stronger every single time.

Anyway, Casey had to be reformatted yet again because on Wednesday night after I attempted to do math he wouldn't reboot. This is what I mean when I tell you math kills. It tried to kill my beloved Casey, but he's stronger computer then that. I took him into work, only mildly panicked that finals are coming up and all my classes are online. Leif, my genius computer guy, told me that all I needed to do was insert the Windows 7 disc and everything would be lovely again. (Insert buzzer sound here) WRONG. When my equally genius Uncle Bruce tried to do that, Casey freaked out and demanded a complete memory removal. Which completely stinks on multiple levels:

-I didn't have time to back up my files

-All music is gone (Yay for Chuck because without him I would be completely tuneless.)

-My file which contained pictures of the world's hottest men is gone. So I have no screen saver. It's really tragic.

-My little sister's graduation pictures were on here and I haven't had a chance to put them on Facebook yet. Now they're gone.

-My senior paper (which had already been turned in) is gone as well.

Aside from Casey's permanent amnesia, he's working great. I suppose I'll get over the loss of my pictures, but I might have to cry into my pillow for a night or two.