under God

My recent physical condition has caused all those who would call themselves my most dear to put a wide distance between me and them. I can't really blame them. I mean, when your saliva is basically radioactive, you wish you could give yourself some distance as well. In fact, I've prayed for that exact thing quite a few times in the last few days but I'm not about to get all religious on you so let's move on which i realize is ironic considering the title of the post. The point is, for the first time in my entire life, I spent the 4th of July alone. All alone. From the time of 6 pm (when my little sister left on her date and i mean what the heck why is she having success in all the places i've previously failed in life?) until...well...I'm still here alone, I have spent my time with the TV watching Will Smith save the planet over and over and over again because for some reason channels like to play Independence Day back to back to back to back on the 4th of July. That, along with the constant companionship of my strong and then stronger pain medicine, has made for quite the holiday. here's to the land of the free and the home of brave. except i'm terrified of moths so do i count as a citizen here?

Well, I finally decided to do something besides rearrange the magnets on the fridge into different faces of sadness and pain and went on a drive. I put my thinking music on and went up the canyon as everyone else was driving down i do what i want and just thought. I thought about a lot of things, like whether or not I was even allowed to be driving with certain medication that may or may not have been in my system. I thought about the first time I drove all the way up that canyon and my best friend almost threw up on me, the happy news my family just received, how many pounds of mashed potatoes I've eaten in my life, and whether or not I'll ever return to Provo.

Then I reached the top, parked the car, got out, and sat on a rock.

My thoughts changed at that point. I sat, looking at the natural skyline of the Wasatch mountains, listening to the water tumble down the canyon. The silhouettes of the pines and aspens stood out against the moon and clouds and the grasses in the meadow gently stirred and slowly danced as a cool breeze wound it's way up and down the small valley. And it hit me. That is America. That is my home. That is the land I am proud and extremely grateful to live in.

Our government and our people are not perfect. We are all corrupt, selfish, and overly opinionated. But the valleys and rivers and mountains and lakes are not. The people can be lazy and greedy and incompetent. But the coasts and forests and plains never are. If only the people of this nation could invoke as much conviction, honor, and love as my 6 minutes in the mountains did. And if we could only live to be worthy of this beautiful place.

Happy Fourth Yo.
rrw

questions of the soul

Why is it ok for guys to go run around the city without a shirt on but I have to wear pants?

Why did an entire box of Cheerios fall off the top of the fridge, covering me and the kitchen in honey nut flavored cereal?

Why did it snow yesterday?

Why did I put my ski gear away 2 weeks ago?

Why is the inside of my car covered in hair?

Why did I shave today and then wear jeans?

Why does that man have pizza and I don't? 

Why doesn't he share with me?

Why do some people breathe really heavily out of their noses?

Why was I convinced that I couldn't breath out of my nose until 8th grade?

Why did 8th grade even happen?

Why don't I ever wear my retainer?

Why couldn't I finish my book before it was due?

Why did my little sister look fabulous for her prom while I had a wardrobe malfunction for mine?

peace and preguntas

that's "questions" in spanish. no i'm not pregnant.

rrw

Owners of a Red Rope

So here's the thing. I've been reading.

No, no. Not the type of reading where you scroll through buzzfeed in order to see what kind of hamburger topping you are. Nor the type of reading that's assigned by professors and makes you want to vomit under a table because suddenly one of your favorite childhood past times has become the most acute and terrible form of torture.

No, that's not the type of reading I'm talking about. I've been doing the type of reading that is so good it makes you sick in your heart. You get sick of the characters because you see them making the same mistakes you make. You get sick of the fact that you can't do anything to change their circumstances. You get sick because you can see what's going to happen and you just don't want it to happen. And then you get sick because what you thought would happen doesn't actually happen and then you're sick of the author playing with your emotions and thoughts but it's just so good that you can't stop.

And then you get sick of your real life. You get sick of how you speak because nothing you say sounds as rich or full or communicates to emotions as well as the words in those books that you read do. You get sick of the petty worries surrounding you because don't people realize that Charles just tried to kill Adam and shows no remorse for any of the abuse he's shown his brother? You get sick of statistics because what are they really even telling you about the human condition? You get sick because the new perspective you get from reading these books throws you into a state of vertigo that is more difficult to stomach than an attraction at a carnival.

So I've been reading. And thinking. And then thinking about what I'm thinking because shoot dang metacognition is real. I should be focused and studious but instead I just want to keep escaping. Either to the dark and foggy streets of London or the warm and daunting valleys of California, full of flowers and life and death. But mostly I just want to write. I just want to take my thoughts to paper in order to make space for the new ones I can sense itching to form.

So I do.

peace out
rrw

.....

There is a window that I look out from and see the trees hesitantly asking the air whether it is time for them to show their secrets that have been held all winter, or if they should stay hidden within themselves. Their limbs bounce in the wind and I cannot tell if it is a cold or a warm breeze that moves them. For, while the window is clear and clean, it is a barrier. It prevents me from hearing the conversation being held across the road between two men who might be friends and who might be enemies. It separates me from the birds flying back and forth with seemingly no purpose but to fly. It removes me from the dog, once white and soft but now brown, gray, and matted. And while I cannot hear his whines as he pleads for release from the red rope tethering him to a tree, I can see his struggle. As I sit behind this window and watch him fight, which effort only entangles him deeper and deeper into the tree, I wonder when he will be released. And upon that occasion, what will he do? Who will he go to? How fast will he run? And will he then return to those people who own the red rope, to be tied up and ignored once again by those he trusts with all entirety? Yes. He will come back. He has been trained to do so and knows no other life. His will is no longer malleable because it has already been molded. It has been molded by the owners of the red rope.

And all this I see from behind the clear, clean glass.

trust in me

(20 points if you get the reference in the title)

Let us think, for a moment, of the number of times a day we trust people. This morning I trusted that my roommate wouldn't draw with marker on my face while I slept. And then I trusted that all the drivers in their cars on the street wouldn't run me over as I crossed the road on my way to school. I trusted that fellow students passing me by on campus weren't going to come up and kick me in the shins. And those are only the most important examples.

If you think about it, almost everything we do is founded on the trust that someone, somewhere, at some point did their job correctly. I trust that whoever built my bed frame used the correct measurements so that while I sit here it won't suddenly collapse onto the floor. Although that would be pretty hilarious and now I'm kind of hoping that it does happen. We generally trust hundreds of complete strangers every time we get in the car and drive up the canyon to go skiing. i say generally because like, there are definitely some drivers that you just don't trust. but i'm not going to say anything too specific for fear of suddenly realizing that it's actually me that can't be trusted on the road. so moving on.

My point is that we have to have a certain level of trust in order to function at all. And we give it rather freely to people we have never, nor will ever, meet. But when we're asked to trust people we know we suddenly can't even think about doing such a thing without having a panic attack.

And that's just bogus.

If you can't trust the people in your life, then why the heck are they still there? Similarly, if you can't imagine them being removed from your life without sudden sadness descending and consuming, then I say trust them. That's at least what I've recently decided to do. But be warned. If you even think about stealing my cheese quesadilla you will be removed from my life. Forcefully and suddenly.

Well this has been a rant. But what else did you expect when you clicked on that link I shoved in your face? Me to share my favorite recipe for chicken?
Ha. That's a good one.

But here are some pictures because that's everyone's favorite part of blog posts.

This St. Patrick's Day might have been the best I've had since third grade. 

I couldn't resist. I had to park next to it. I had to.

This one's entitled "Spring Break?"

It's always fun when your best friend comes to town because sometimes she locks her keys in her car within 2 minutes of arriving and you spend all evening trying to push the unlock button on the key chain, which is sitting on the front seat, with a clothes hanger. 

Sometimes.

It's like all I do is ski.

Ha.

And one of the chubster just for good measure.

peace and trust exercises.

fall. i might catch you. but i'm not very strong so don't count on it. sorry.

rrw

girls are great

This is to the girls that are great. The girls that are fun and awesome and do cool things and use their brains to exercise their independence and who care about those around them. Those great girls who are always there for their friends and for strangers, for boys and for girls. Who spend all day baking treats for the entire ward, who take an hour of their time to comfort their wreck of a friend, who send texts and funny snaps just to wish someone a happy day. Those girls who speak up in class to voice their opinions, who compliment strangers, who smile and laugh when they read something funny, who have hobbies and talents that they are proud of. The girls who can fix my computer and draw my blood and help me with statistics and make art and music and life. The girls who forgive and serve and totally rock at Just Dance. To all the great girls out there.

You are great. You are great friends. You have great senses of humor. You have great hair and you have great smiles. But sometimes being great doesn't feel so great. Sometimes great girls don't get asked on dates or do so great on tests or have really great days.

That doesn't mean you are not great. Or that you should stop being great. There is greatness in you and I'm glad I've gotten to see it. If you're not feeling so great, come on by. I'd love to tell you how truly great I think you are.

peace and happiness and snapchats
shoot dang why do i feel so happy?
also, chalk this up to sappy songs on spotify
rrw

дома

I'm home. I've met my nephew, I've slept in my bed, I've shared my chocolate, I've driven my car, I've had conversations with strangers just because I can, I've been given a new phone (my parents are the best), and I've teased/been teased by my sister. It feels good. I like being home.

But man do I miss it. I woke up today (bright and early because that's just what my body does now) and it hit me. For the first time I woke up with that terrible, overwhelming feeling of...responsibility. I mean sure, I was responsible for the education and lives of 19 children every day, but that pales in comparison to the responsibility of choosing what filter to put in my Instagram post.

I think I went with Amaro.

Life was easier in Ukraine. All I had to worry about was if my passport was going to be stolen, whether or not I could outrun the man staring at me on the mashrutka/following me around McDonalds, bomb threats in the metro, and fitting all the chocolate in my backpack. Ok, that last one was actually pretty stressful. (and do you realize I talk about chocolate literally every time I "social media" (and yes, i just made "social media" a verb)

The point is there are things here that I have to think about that I haven't had to think about in a long time. And actually kind of serious things. 

What? I can be serious. Sometimes.

Like how I am so serious that Tyrone Wells' Christmas album is bringing me immense joy right now. Look it up if you want to be happy. And if you don't want to be happy then I have chocolate for you. (there i go again...) Also, if you're not happy and need a self-esteem boost, I suggest leaving the country for 3 months and then coming home a day before your birthday. People are so nice.

peace and 22

thank you so much for all the birthday wishes.

rrw

why

A little less than a month ago I was in the store to buy coconut cookies, vegetable oil and lemons for my host family. They had given me money and a good pat on the back with the encouragement, "You can do it!" and sent me on my way. Now, if you know me, you already know where this is going.

I was stressed out of my mind. Not only was I in the grocery store (my least favorite place on the planet) but I was in a Ukrainian grocery store and had no idea what was going on anywhere. I'll save you the sob story of picking which bread to buy and get to the point though.

There was a problem of some sort when I went to checkout and my lemons were confiscated, which was distressing to me because I really needed them. But guess what? Saying "No, I really need those lemons. I want to buy them. Those are my lemons." Over and over and over in English does you little good in this type of situation.

Finally the woman behind me, taking pity on the flailing American girl, explained what was wrong in her broken English. It was an easy to solve problem and I thanked her for her help, smiling at her little kids who were staring at me like I was some sort of foreign alien. oh wait. As I was about to leave, however, the woman stopped me and asked, "Why are you here? Why are you here, alone, so far from home?" All the Ukrainians in my line and the line over kind of stopped to lean in and listen.

What was I supposed to say? I had three seconds to answer her with simple English while I struggled to stuff all my items in my backpack.

I'm here to learn and change. I'm here to struggle and grow. I'm here to be happy. I'm here to realize how fortunate my life has been and how much I love my family. I'm here to feel incredible love for people I never even knew existed. I'm here to eat borscht and syrniki and liver and fish and chocolate. I'm here to learn how to get along with people. I'm here to gain confidence in myself and my decisions. I'm here to wear the same clothes over and over and over and realize that that's ok. I'm here to travel and see how much bigger the world is than just Utah. I'm here to make memories and friends. I'm here to fall in love with 19 children and hold them on my lap and sing Jingle Bells a dozen times a day. I'm here to rely on Christ and witness tender mercy after tender mercy happen everyday. I'm here to realize how much I love this world.

But as this went zooming through my head I realized I only had two seconds left, so I responded, "I'm here to teach English."

I was here to teach English.

Dasvidanya Ukraine.
rrw

три

3 weeks guys. In exactly three weeks I will be sitting on a plane back to America. 3 weeks. Do you realize how small of a time that is? I don't know if my brain just does time differently now, but throughout this entire experience everything has seemed so...imminent.

And now I only have three weeks left. And that makes me want to cry because I can't wait to see my family and hold my nephew and celebrate Christmas and share my chocolate and eat Mexican food and hug my friends. But I also can't imagine leaving the people I love so much. I can't imagine leaving these kids that squirmed their way into my heart while dumping glitter and throwing cotton balls everywhere. Who, for the life of them, can't focus on one thing for more than 20 seconds. Who are proud to show me their little toys, the buttons on their clothes, and the pictures of me they've drawn. Who probably won't remember me at all by the end of December.

I love this city.


MAN I've got to stop listening to Sigur Ros at night. Way too many thoughts going on over here on the other side of the world.

Three weeks. They're gonna be great.

peace and hoppipolla
rrw

ukrainian secrets

Yesterday my host mom and sister sat me down (ok, I was already sitting) and told me something that had obviously been bothering them for some time now. I listened, worried that I had somehow personally offended them with the amount of time I spend brushing my hair, my hopefully polite rejection of the endless supply of liver, or the number of chocolate bars I keep stashed in my room. I was scared of what was going to happen. Was this end of our harmonious relationship?

Their concern was this: I wear pants too often, and by doing so I will not attract the young men who could be potential suitors. They said I was beautiful and needed to show that more often by wearing skirts.

I sat there, shocked.

And then I realized, "They're right! I hate pants anyway!"

So now I'm here, sitting in my skirt, waiting for the next 3 hours to rush by so I can board an overnight train to northern Ukraine (poetry jam anyone?) to see some castles. I'm excited. Not only for the trip, but for the other "womanly secrets" my host mom said she had to share with me when the time was right. Should I be nervous? Because I'm not.

I am so content with my life right now it's unbelievable. Earlier this week I was walking home from a good day of teaching, listening to Selena telling me that I can be whatever I want, and was suddenly filled to the brim with happiness. You know, the kind of happiness that's like, "If someone touched me right now, they would hug a stranger."

I full on beamed at passing Ukrainians, some of whom hesitantly smiled back. I teared up when I saw a grandpa walking his granddaughter home from school, her bright pink backpack slung across his shoulders. A mom was showing her chubby little baby, all bundled up in snow clothes, the different colored leaves and some 13 year old boys were flirting with some 13 year old girls in the park.

I loved them all.
I'm so glad I'm here. Wearing a skirt and attracting the right kind of boy.

peace and buckwheat

rrw

kiev: a comparison

Here I am, sitting on my bed drinking my herbal tea while it rains outside. I feel so poetic right now it's unbelievable. Or maybe just hipster? I mean, if I still had my phone right now you better believe I'd be filtering up this scene with "earlybird" like mad. Actually, that would be completely appropriate because Kiev is quite a hipstery place. No, I don't mean the people (even if some of the fashion here is SO not mainstream). I mean the actual city.

yes this photo is all over all my social media outlets right now

it happens

If Kiev was an article of clothing you better believe it would be a plaid/feather shirt with the top button done up. You see, everything here is underground. The public transportation, the babushkas selling flowers, the shops, the 3 story malls, the escalators...it's so exclusive the sun has never seen it. Literally.

I love it.

I'm spending this Friday night in because I'm afraid my desire to try all things Ukrainian has caught up to me and I have a slight stomachache. I mean, maybe I wasn't ready for that raw pig fat. Or biting straight into a clove of garlic. Sheesh, if only my body was as ready as my mind. (if that makes sense to you, then explain it to me.)

It's ok though! I've been needing an excuse to just sit and actually read Anna Karenina. Let's hope my Russian lessons will help me understand the names of the characters...I mean, how many variations of "Petersonovich" can one family have!?

I hope your life is as good as mine.
peace and kiev

rrw

ps. happy anniversary to my parents! love them so much.

8 reasons i'll never make it big

I love this little blog of mine, not going to lie. It's been with me since the beginning of my "adult" life, when I moved out of the house and had to start pretending I could cook. still working on that. It's gone through awkward stage after awkward stage as I experimented with word art ugh and played around with pixelated pictures ughugh and thought I was more clever than I actually was. I guess it was me who was going through the awkward stages huh? And here I was thinking I had left those behind in junior high school...but I guess the fact that I had to ask my little sister if my hair looked like a mullet this weekend proves I'm still in the middle of the awkward struggle. to caroline's credit, she looked at me, burst into laughter, and then tried to choke out a "no...it's doesn't look ENTIRELY like a mullet." 

What was I trying to say? Oh right. I love my blog, but I unfortunately have realized that I will never make it big in the blogging world. Here are the reasons why. Yep, it's list time.

1. I'm a single Mormon. Now, as I've ventured through the blogging land I've noticed a few things. Mormons are everywhere awesome! and so are single women ...cool? However, the Mormons all have children or "hubbies" and the single ladies all hit up the bar/club/wherever-it-is-they-go-to-get-totally-wasted at any and every hour of the day. These two lifestyles are at the heart of all big blogs. The heart of my little blog is somewhere in Montana, eating cheese quesadillas, throbbing for Nicholas Hoult and watching Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron.

2. Along with number 1, I can give you no relationship advice. None. Ever. No "19 Ways to Have a Date Absolutely Every Day" or "42 Tips for the 'Touch The Elbow' Move" or "137 Essentials to Keep The Flame Alive Without Burning Down the House" will ever come from me. However, if you ever find yourself on Who Wants to be a Millionaire? and the question happens to be on Harry Potter trivia, call me immediately.

3. The people who read this blog know me outside of the blog. Let me explain. In the big blogs there will be a quick phrase or comment about how the blog is a secret, how none of their friends know about it and how terrified the writers would be if anyone they actually knew read their blog. #saywhaaaa? My family and friends are the only people who have enough mercy on me to take a glance at this thing every now and then. And bless them for it. love ya guys.

4. I don't do outfits of the day. And yes, that's a thing. With it's own hashtag "#ootd" too. That hashtag is the whole point of some of the big blogs out there. And I...well...basically clothes are the worst part of my day always. I recently went through an entire morning thinking of how pants are my personal Undesirable Number One. (HP reference right there. If you get it, we are new best friends.) Clothes make me feel less free than America before the revolution, so why in the world would I ever take a picture of my outfit? That's like taking a thumbs up picture with the serial killer who's just pulled you into his van.

5. Nicknames. I don't do them here. If I do use a nickname, it's because I actually refer to the person that way in real life. Sure, I gave it a shot a few times but it just felt weird. So I stopped. I mean really? Is this Gossip Girl or something? No. It's not. although i have been told i look like a character on that show so basically i'm a celebrity.

6. Crafts/Cooking/Home Remedies. Come on, we've already acknowledged that everyone who reads this knows me, so you KNOW that these things do not exist in my life. The closest I got was trying that gelatin thing on my face that's supposed to make your pores smaller. It smelled like puke and burned my skin so I stopped all kitchen experiments and am still trying to recover.

7. My life isn't inspiring. If you have ever been inspired by something I wrote at some point in my life, I stand in awe of you and your ability to see depth where there is none. I can think of one, maybe two posts that came from somewhere deep in my soul, but they usually...don't. Other, bigger blogs devote time to helping their readers to reach for their goals, to be brave, and to be better people. I guess I'll give it a shot.

Go ahead. Pin it.

8. I haven't watched any of The Bachelorette this season. Shun me, it's fine.

peace and chicken tacos from that one little place down on center street because holymonoly those things are good

rrw

welcome to fabulous

In the last 5 days I have been in 5 different states. Can we just acknowledge that this is crazy? I mean, how in the world did I get so lucky? I love my summers like this - chuck full of vacations with almost no time to do anything else. People generally like to travel, but how in the world do I manage to plan a vacation every weekend? Maybe it's because I've been in Provo for 3 years straight and I'm starting to get antsy here. Maybe it's because my family has always done this during the summer and I just can't help myself. Maybe it's because I figure, when else am I going to be able to do this? Maybe it's because I've been in so many weddings I feel like I should be going on honeymoons too. Maybe it's because adventure is out there! And I can't help taking a teeny taste of it. I mean, if you can't get your blood pumping a little faster every now and then, how do you even know you're alive? that should become a song lyric. someone contact ben gibbard or adam levine. 

Well, there have been more than enough moments in my life recently that have gotten my blood moving through my body, proving that I am a living human being and not slowly turning into a zombie. Here are a few of those moments.

-Eating three delicious cookies from Paradise Bakery: chocolate chip, lemon zester, and the {{winner!!}} coconut chocolate chip. ohmygosh go get it right now. everything's better with coconut.
-Listening to The Lion King soundtrack. Anytime, anywhere, that gets me excited.
-Seeing a cop hiding out in the bushes and praying that he won't notice you going well over the speed limit. happens every time!
-Coming over the crest of the Las Vegas valley while listening to Brandon Flowers singing about how fabulous Las Vegas is. it's basically inspiring. 

-Driving on the strip. I try not to be too proud of my accomplishments, but dang. I will put that on all my resumes from here on out because I have never been so beyond the edge of my nerves in my life. all the lights! all the honking! all the limos! all the pedestrians! all the stop and go traffic while driving a stick shift!

-Manipulating parking garages. Daedalus (that's the guy who created the labyrinth and yes I had to go look that up just now) would be proud of the monstrosities we have constructed. They are endless and exitless and you will get eaten by a Minotaur before you find your way out.
-Interacting with people on the strip."Please don't touch me." "I'm sure you are an excellent Christian Rock singer but I just can't take that CD from you." "Excuse me I'm just trying to stand here." "No we are not going to any clubs tonight, no matter how many free drinks you offer us."

 people were so happy for us.

#thanksguys

#stoodup #yousir #wouldyouliketomarryme?

-ACTUALLY watching the Bellagio fountains go off and feeling like we were in our own Ocean's Eleven show. Or on a date courtesy of ABC. see any season of the Bachelor/Bachelorette for reference.

-Trying to find the pool for a quick dip before checkout time and eventually just asking the strangers in the elevator with us where it is because you've gotten off on three different floors and it's nowhere to be seen. Only complaint with the pool: why was there no diving board or platforms or slides or lily-pads to crawl over? I mean, what do they expect us to do there? Just swim around and flirt with boys? 

found this gem on my camera while going through the pictures so i added some commentary and put it here.

cool. i know.

-Eating at Serendipity because that stuff was just so good and that word is just so fun. I also give my official thumbs up to the Frrrrrrrozen Hot Chocolate. Personally I'd just stick with the classic flavor but hey, it's your life. Live it the way you want! What's the phrase? #yol....never mind. I can't continue.

holy cow why is my best friend so pretty?

-Shopping. I don't even know where to begin with that. So many things to buy. I got some yellow-sandal-heel-things and can't wait to wear them...somewhere. A wedding maybe? Next week? Ok. Will do. I totally did the "selfie in the mirror" while trying on other clothes so that my bff could tell me what she thought while she perused a different store but I won't inflict those pictures on you.

so, i would always take pictures of the other three and then they'd offer to take one of me. 

but then no one would be in the photo with me.

so it looks like i went to vegas alone.

#coolbeans

It was an exciting trip. From having a man named Jared come to our room to fix our TV at midnight to finding out the Nestle Tollhouse Cookies shop gave out free water to having heart attacks while walking through Tiffany's and wishing it was realistic for me to get some sparkly from there, it was just all good.

The last 10 minutes of the trip might have been the most exciting as we found ourselves spinning out of control across 4 lanes of traffic. All I have to say about that is miracles are real, everyone is fine, there were no collisions, and miracles are real. Wait, did I say miracles are real? Because guys, miracles are real. I've been saying prayers of gratitude that we're not all in the hospital with broken bodies right now.

Miracles, man.

peace and vegas

rrw

we have words for a reason

So, like any good twenty and older girl without a boyfriend, I have dedicated a larger portion of my life than I care to admit to the fabricated affection of others via reality television. But let's get real, nothing in these things is real. Except for the real bewilderment I feel towards the disappearing act of so many women's eyebrows. But...that's a different tangent.

I've been watching this truly terrible show. I just can't stop. It's basically a Bachelor spin off with less traveling, no roses, fewer cat fights, and no Chris Harrison. i really don't know why i even watch it. In it, three guys date numerous women and then send them home one by one. And I've noticed a trend in these girls that is seriously driving me crazy. They all tell this man how in love they are with him, are very generous in their show of physical affection, and plan their lives out with this man. Then the man sends them on their way and in their few moments to say goodbye all the girls say is "It's ok. It's ok. I understand...."

And I'm all like "WHAT?"
You had already named your children with this guy.
How are you NOT slapping him in the face?
He kissed you good, like, yesterday.

Ok. Sure, they went into this knowing what was in store. And like I said, it's all fake, but I mean really?

The few times I have experienced a guy "sending me home" I was not ok and I was not about to make him feel like everything was fine and dandy. I mean, I tried not to go all girly cray-cray on them, but I tried my best to stand up for myself. Not just say "It's ok. It's ok. You're a great guy and only good things will come to you and I'm just going to stew over this for the next 8 and a half months and tear myself apart about it but for your sake, it's ok. I understand."

NO.
Use your words people. And if you don't have a broad enough vocabulary for it, then buy a dictionary.

peace and rants

rrw

humans are cool

I'm in one of these moods where I just want to write. I think it's probably because I've been looking at Humans of New York for too long and seeing all the different types of people on there gets in me in an expressive state of mind. I probably should stop looking at that website because it makes me want to be a liberal. And we all know that it's completely unacceptable for a middle class, Caucasian, BYU student whose dad works in the finance field to be a liberal. Plus I would be the worst liberal because the most eccentric article of clothing in my wardrobe is a pair of neon pink shoes with green polo players printed on them. (I think they're a Ralph Lauren knockoff or something. But I don't know enough about clothes and brands to be sure.)

One of my favorites from Humans of New York.

I want to be that woman someday.

I'm going to have to start stretching now though.

In other news, my friend Tracie and I discovered the place for single girls to eat. Firehouse Subs. Seriously, we went there last night and were two of three girls in the entire place. Sure, there was obviously a Young Men's activity happening so most of the population was under 18, but there were others who were older. Promise! We decided that while girls prefer Zupas guilty! that pulled pork sandwich just can't be beat the boys seem to choose this place.

So...maybe we'll go back there in the future.

Oh, and I curled my eyelashes for the first time this morning? I felt like a Bionicle Woman with that contraption up against my face. And I thought, "Who in the world came up with the idea, 'I'm going to clamp metal and rubber against my eyelashes, in severely close proximity to my eyeball-the means through which I observe the world around me-because then I'll look pretty.'?" <---- holy monoly, how does the punctuation work right there?

Anyway, curling your eyelashes is a completely ridiculous concept that has some seriously devastating potential outcomes.

I'll probably keep doing it. Because dang, I feel pretty. heh heh heh.

peace and peeling
i'm like a freaking snake over here. disgusting.

rrw

that little black dress

First, lemme just say, yesterday was a downright terrible day for me. It started off great with some sleek looking slacks and a flattering sweater. My awkward bangs looked less awkward than normal and my mascara went on with ease only poked my eyeball once. what of it? But then it just went downhill. Like, way downhill. Excluding the conversation I had with the janitor on the majesty of Montana, I just couldn't get myself to a happy place.

Ugh. It's depressing and embarrassing just to think about it.

Fortunately I have been blessed with amazing friends who will listen to me ramble about my hard life... oh my gosh I'm just sick of waiting for them to come home and I only had like, this really good cereal for breakfast and a superb scripture study and I sat there in front of my overflowing closet just trying to pick from all my clothes and it's just so hard. All my friends are great and I love my family and can't wait to see them and I'm just so sad right now...and somehow manage to NOT strangle me.

Once we deduced that I probably needed to eat something other than M&Ms, things started looking up. Things continued to look up as I made my way to a few different stores to run errands and just be by myself.

While running these errands, I came across some finely sewn fabric that I instantly knew I needed to put on my body. Grabbing my size and another in one size bigger because sometimes you just have bad days and you KNOW you're going to need a bigger size. But guess what? That's ok. I barricaded myself in the dressing room before the fleet of high school girls invaded all corners of the store.

As the fabric fell over my head and my shoulders I thought, "Oh, I love the neckline. And the sleeves are perfect!" I quickly noticed how the waistline was in the perfect place for my torso. The skirt had just enough flare that I could eat a good dinner and still be comfortable (which is probably the most important aspect of potential clothing). The delicate black lace was a complimentary contrast to my less than tan skin. The texture was soft and flattering. This was the dress. This was the dress that would make everyone love me!

But then the dreadful happened.
The hemline. 
2 more inches, an inch and a half, maybe even one, and I would have been doing my little "Yeah I found what I want and I feel good and I'm going to buy this little sucker!" dance yes, that actually does happen. But alas. No such dance was to happen in this dressing room because the dress was too short. But not the "hit-you-in-the-face-oh-my-gosh-what-are-you-thinking-it's-way-too-short" kind of short. It was the "you-could-probably-get-away-with-this-especially-in-the-summer-which-is-right-around-the-corner-anyway" kind of short. Which is the worst kind of short.

I rationalized all sorts of terrible rationalizations. other girls wear things much shorter than this to church.
I made the worst sorts of excuses. i should really wear it while i can, right?
I convinced myself that people wouldn't notice. it's not like that much more of my leg is that big of a deal anyway.

But in the end, the fact that I was trying to justify buying it was reason enough to let it go. Such a sad separation hasn't happened since the last time I went shopping and fell in love with a teapot.

Sometimes dressing modest is a struggle. A REAL struggle that is overlooked and discredited. Modesty? Psh, you covered that in Young Women's ages ago. Why should it be that hard to just buy things that cover you up? Well boys, it IS hard. It is hard to sit there, looking at a dress that you love, that makes you feel pretty and confident and appealing, and say no. It takes time, money, and a whole lot of patience to find articles of clothing that are cute and appropriate. It's a struggle that doesn't get easier just because you graduated to Relief Society and go to BYU. It's really, really hard.

I realized that all over again yesterday.

I commend those who don't have such a difficult time with this as I do, and I'm grateful for their examples. I'm grateful for guidelines and standards that keep me protected. I admit that finding cute skirts and shorts that are long enough for these Weiler legs of mine is difficult, but I know it's worth it.

How about we all try to notice and recognize the modesty in others this week, and compliment them for it? I know I certainly will, because dang. It is an accomplishment.

At least I can count on this one being long enough, amiright?

peace and hemlines to the knees

rrw

fridays in provo. so they do exist...

Fridays are my free days. If you can ever arrange your schedule to not have school or work on Fridays, do it. And if you had to wait for someone to tell you to do so, there might be something wrong with you.
Alright, on to the point of this post! tell me if you find one.

Yesterday I spent my first Friday in Provo in about 5 weeks. Between Salt Lake, St. George, and Logan, I have spent very few weekends in Provo this semester. yeah, i'm one of those girls. sorry r.s. prez. The thing is, every weekend before this I have had reasons to leave. It was family birthday party weekend! Easter weekend! Conference weekend! That one kid I kind of knew in high school's homecoming weekend! I need to see Lindsay weekend! I wonder if that bed in Salt Lake is still as comfortable as I remember it being weekend! Well, I sat there on Wednesday (which is when I usually come up with reasons to leave for the upcoming fri-sat-sun) and realized that I had none. NONE. Sure, next weekend there's the Canyon Rim Arts Festival that my mom is in charge of and that I'm taking pictures of can't wait to see that CAMEL, and then there's the Boys and Girls Club Gala that I just can't miss and that homecoming where I actually do know the man speaking. guy? boy? boi? are they men once they come back? weird...

But this weekend? Nothing. So I stayed here. I talked with Lindsay on the phone, committed her to try to maybe get work off for a road trip we're hesitantly planning for around May-ish yeah, we're off to a good start, slept in, debated whether or not to go running for so long that I could have gone running and come back in the time I spent debating, actually DID go running beautiful day up Provo canyon, showered, watched a few guilty pleasure TV shows, went shopping at the outlets with two super cool girls, ate a burger animal-style and protein-style, watched Life of Pi, and then spent the next 20 minutes reading all about Life of Pi on sparknotes. how do people come UP with this stuff? i wish i had an imagination.

While running, remember? i bolded it up there just in case you didn't catch it. I was forced to think my own, actual thoughts because my earphones don't stay in. worse than it might seem due to my lack of imagination mentioned right up there. I wish I could tell you all about my philosophical conversation with myself, but the only thing I can remember was this mantra that kept coursing through my mind.

"Run, run, run, as fast as you can. You could probably catch me because I run like a gingerbread man."

Yep. After three months with walking pneumonia i was unofficially diagnosed over the phone by my Lindsay-friend-nurse-student and i'm going with it I have found my body to be completely unable to move at the speeds or distances I desire it to. Pleasant people, also running, would smile or say hi as they breezed past me. I could only respond with a wild look and a growl as I peered through the sweat dripping off my brow into my eyeballs. What can I say? I'm a beast. just not in the way it's usually used - that of referring to prowess or power in a specific field.

So thank Provo on the weekends. Maybe I'll see you again in about 6 weeks.

peace out

rrw

a few things i will never understand

-Why professors feel the need to hoard office supplies. "Has anyone seen the tape? Where are my scissors? EVERY STICKY NOTE IS MISSING!"

-Why my arm hairs suddenly decided to grow the opposite direction.

-Same with that one eyelash on my left eyelid. (Seriously. Just, calm down buddy.)

-Gotye.

-Super long fingernails that are in style now. they look like aye-aye fingers. and girl, how do you even eat with those things?

-Drawn on eyebrows.

-Garden gnomes.

-Why I'm the only one who calls to fix things in my apartment. And why no one ever says thank you? (You're welcome roommies) 

-People who don't like dairy.

-Back rubs in class. DON'T DO IT PEOPLE. JUST DON'T. 

-Silent treatments.

-The Marriott School of Business.

-And the nursing program.

-Why people still refuse to use Spotify.

-The difference between "effect" and "affect." yeah, i admit that i have to look it up every time. and usually i just use the word "influence" instead.

-How I'm supposed to resist chocolate bars, chocolate milk, and chocolate doughnuts when they're sitting right there on my desk.

-High heels and jeans. seems like an oxymoron to me.



One thing that I do understand?

Glacier National Park.
yep, it's that time again folks.

Avalanche Lake via The Trail of the Cedars

4.5 miles roundtrip

Trees upwards of 700 years old

with diameters of 4 to 7 feet

Follows Avalanche Creek

These colors are for reals.

Little buddy practically climbed on my lap to eat that Cheeto.

he obviously knows how good cheetos are.

Have I talked about the Weiler hips yet?

Oh yeah. I have.

peace and air freshener.

did you hear? the teacher education department had a fire incident. so know the office smells like burnt flax, melted metal, crystal gel, and recently, paint fumes. i wouldn't be good at drugs because this is killing me.

rrw