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

my life as a scarecrow

It's 2:48 am and I can't sleep. I have so much running through my head it's impossible for me to even begin counting sheep. Plus I haven't taken a math class since high school so I probably wouldn't be very successful in the whole number business right now. I'm not going to get into the things running around my head in a way resembling my cross-country-star-little-sister barreling along at her 5 minute miles (speaking of, she actually sounds like she's awake right now too. GO TO SLEEP SISTER) because that would just not be appropriate. Instead, I'm just going to go on a sleepless rant that probably won't make much sense later. Oh well. People do this type of thing when they're drunk tired. Right?

for the record, i'm really not drunk. i don't even know what alcohol smells like. moving on.

Tomorrow morning (aka later today) I get the stitches from my face removed. I seriously can't wait because as of right now they just seem like weird hairs growing out of my face that I can see in my peripheral. I feel like a scarecrow or a witch with one of those hairy moles. Except for that was the whole point, to have the mole removed. So that's confusing.

It's been interesting, this whole surgery/cutting/bandaging/numbing/swelling/stitching thing that's been my life this last week. Everyone knows I'm not one to relish in any of those things on other people, so the fact that it happened to me? I don't think about it too much because....ugh. I was so lightheaded the first time I took my bandages off to switch them that I had to lay down. Twice. Later that day I resolved to not be a "pansy", took the band-aid off, and really looked at what was going on up in there.

I promptly started crying. CRYING. Like, tears rolling down my cheeks. My mom and sister were kind and asked me what was wrong. Through the sobs I responded, "I just looked at myself in the mirror." Legitimately, my reflection made me cry. you can laugh. They comforted me while I cried things like, "What have I done to myself?" Looking back I think I might have irrationally jumped to the conclusion that the surgeon had messed up, the cut was too big too heal and my smiling/laughing/talking the previous night had destined me to a life of dis-figuration. The only bright side was that maybe Dumbledore would hire me because I would now so closely resemble Mad-Eye Moody.

If I were Mad-Eye would you be in my fan club? 

Please?

The first few days of my bandages I tried not to go out at all. I mean, I went to church and that happened to be the day that the directory woman insisted on taking my picture, despite me pleading that maybe I could just send her one instead. Every person at Home Depot probably thought I had had a bad run in with a chainsaw and all the kids thought I was a mummy. I'm sure of it.

Eventually I got used to my band-aids and would even forget I had them on. So once I regained some self-esteem I went shopping at the mall. On the escalator I was behind a cute baby/toddler who wouldn't stop looking at me. I tried smiling and making faces at him, then realized that I was probably traumatizing the child and decided to just take a picture of him instead.

Oh, you thought I was lying?

Anyway, it's been an hour. Maybe I could sleep now. Oh, and I promise I'm not as creepy as I sound/look. Sometimes I just take pictures of kids. No harm.

Ok. I'm beyond creepy. Someone help me. It's late.

peace and Chuckie Keeton.
usu deserved to win solely because of him. 

rrw

*****OH MY GOSH THE BIGGEST SPIDER IN THE WORLD JUST CRAWLED UNDER MY BED. LIKE, THIS SPIDER WAS SO BIG I HAD TO KILL IT WITH A BROOM. ITS YOUNG ARE GOING TO EAT ME IN MY SLEEP. FAREWELL WORLD.*****

must be tuesday

I woke up late today because last night I was super smart and stayed up super late talking with my best friend on the phone. After that conversation I decided it would be a good time to put coconut oil in my hair because apparently that's supposed to help with moisture and strength and blah blah blah. Basically it made me look like a grease-pot and my hair feels just the same as it always has. This greased up hair made it so that I HAD to shower, because seriously guys. Draco and Snape would be jealous of the greasiness that was my hair this morning.

So I was double late to work, forgot my phone, sunglasses, and book. Oh, and my makeup. But whatever. I'm over that stuff. When I finally arrived at work I was informed that I was about to be automatically terminated (aka fired) because I'm not signed up for classes in the fall. Oh BYU. I love the hoops you make all your students and employees jump through. You and me, BYU, we should enter the circus together. I'll be the monkey that you yell things like, "Dance circus monkey, DANCE." to. And you better believe I'll dance.

So...let's hope I can work it so that I'm NOT immediately, automatically, abruptly and forcefully terminated from life as a TEDSEC. Although the thought crossed my mind that maybe, must maybe, being terminated wouldn't be such a bad thing. That thought immediately left my mind as I considered my other options for employment. I mean, I've paid my dues to Papa Smurfs and Coldstone. I actually really like coming home from work NOT smelling like pizza sauce and old caramel.

Basically, it's Tuesday. And the fact that I was just on vacation all last week makes being here that much more difficult. I mean....really? This compared to that?

Whateves though. Whateves. oh hey. it's the fourth couple of the family. ^^^^ #sisterpride #sistershame? #sisters

At least I got a dollar off my Turkey Harvest Croissant sandwich at the MOA Cafe. At least.

And now I can't find the song I really wanted to share today. Cool beans. COOL BEANS.

You know, maybe I need to calm down. This song helps me clam down. So actually really cool beans. I'll post that.

peace. just peace today.

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