Staycation And Lots O' Pictures

My kinfolk came to Utah this week and I was in paradise. I lurve my family so much and I lurve attention-hogging even more so it was a fantastic time for me. It was an extreme fun-frenzy of skiing, eating, and adventuring and now that they have deserted me I am left with a soft belly and a smidgen of homesickness. (When I say "smidgen" I mean that I sobbed when I said bye to my mother. Pretty sure I have separation anxiety at 19 years of age. In my Psychology class we would classify that as "abnormal".)

So to battle the post-staycation blues I have posted my favorite moments captured on film (fancy way of saying pictures). I know you probably won't enjoy it as much as I do...but you probably don't reread these posts when you're bored like I do, so get over it. 

When all your siblings look cool and you realize you have had a gaper gap all day. 

Sunny days at Snowbird. And I wasn't that loner eating her lunch on the lift! 

My dream come true: Everyone is paying attention to me and they seem amused. 

Lunching.

 When the forks look like mustaches and you make everyone take a picture because it is that noteworthy.

Showing my skillz off to my parents, who ooh and ahh like they're supposed to. 

Seriously, why don't all gas stations have dino's like this one?!?

Lately I have realized that one of my greatest goals in life is to have this boy acknowledge that I am hilarious and the coolest kitty around. It has not come to fruition yet. But I will not give up hope. 

We went caving at what I like to call "The Mountain's Butthole" because it smelled foul. My hypothesis is that hundreds of generations of humans and animals have used that cave as a place to relieve themselves.  I also got stuck and it was a huge ordeal that resulted in hyperventilating and squealing for help. 

I was so in love with this picture at first. Look at my hair blowing in the wind! So Beyonce. And then I realized I had dirt in my teeth. Dream killer. 

Beautiful Shannon. She acquired a boyfriend and will no longer tolerate me flirting with her. 

Holy Catfish, greatest week ever. Staycation = Bomb dot com. Now I have to return to real life and buy groceries and do other things that are required of semi-independent adults. 

Time for Easter holidayness! 

True Embarrassment

It takes me about an hour to fall asleep each night. I don't know if it is caused by the flurry of thoughts that go through my mind during this time or if I think so much because I can't sleep, it doesn't really matter. This is my time to lie in bed in complete and utter embarrassment as I contemplate over my words and actions of the past day. Contrary to what you believe it's not all of my "loserish" moments that keep me from dreaming of giant manatees with party hats. (Real dream I had recently.) I don't stress over the fact that I spat while talking to a stranger or got my maxi skirt stuck in my bike chain, exposing my bum. These things just don't seem to bother me. I am embarrassed over something much worse.

I have found that the times when I am uncharitable and mean-spirited are when I  have cause to blush to my very bones. 

By nature, I am not kind, selfless, or compassionate. My hypothesis is that I am so underdeveloped mentally and spiritually that I have to put people into little boxes in order for me to comprehend the world. It is inhumane to put people into boxes! Literally and figuratively! 

Today in class my professor told us that charity is seeing the good in people and trying to ignore the bad. It is trying to love everybody even if it's hard and it goes against your typical tendencies. It is to make this world a more livable place by not being afraid to lift someone up in the fear that it will bring you down. It means stop swiveling your head around to see if people think you're witty or accomplished and love. 

Basically, I have my work cut out for me. It seems that all of my friends and family have this on lock- down. And I'm that real honest-to-goodness loser who just can't stop thinking about herself. But I have no room to despair! I have a chance today to be better and when I fail (which I will) I have tomorrow. 

And who knows? Maybe one day I will be able to fall asleep instantly like my room mate instead of listening to her snore and kicking myself for being so stupid sometimes. 

Have a thrilling Thursday. 

Can't you feel the love between us? All I can say about this picture is that she deserved it. 

I Go Through Phases

Everybody goes through different phases in their lives. Elementary school, middle school, high school, college, etc etc. These are the basic ones. Others go through shorter phases in life such as having long hair, short hair, or being into Owl City or Nickelback. (Wait. I take that back. Nobody has ever enjoyed listening to that terrible terrible band. Nickelback, indeed.)

I go through phases as well. But instead of them being a period of years or months, they last hours or days. A short attention span combined with an overactive imagination yields a lot of short lived love affairs with a lot of pointless things. 

Note: Although I do tend to fall in love with strangers or really random people for a couple days, this post will not be about that. But it is inspired by a very strange crush I have right now.  How mysteriousssssss. You will never know. 

~ As soon as I went through the big P my hair turned curly. At this time I also lost the desire to take care of my hair which has led people to believe that I would look fantastic with dreadlocks. I trust that these people meant well but in reality they planted a seed in my mind. A seed that would grow into a terrible phase of my life. 

The Time I Got A Dreadlock And It Started To Eat The Rest Of My Hair 

As you can see it was a failure. And disgusting. 

~ I love country pop music. Cue the groans and exclamations of horror...... Moving on. There is this singer named Jana Kramer and she is awesome and the most beautiful person ever... and she has a middle part. This one is for you Jana. Thank you for inspiring me to part my hair in the middle for an entire weekend. It was ugly.

That One Weekend Where I Parted My Hair In The Middle And Went To Public Places

Oh Jana. And feel free to compliment my sexy friend Alex. She is gorgeous. 

~ It started as a thing to do after my family abandoned me for a week this summer. Quickly it turned into a very obsessive phase which threatened my already threadbare social skills. My friends didn't see me for a week. Literally. I think I avoided phone calls and texts to continue my addictive habit. 

The Paint By Numbers Phase That Resulted In Me Dropping Off The Face Of The Planet

I did sign it in case someone was wondering. It may be a lame phase but I also had TALENT. 

~ I have a lot of silly dreams. Recent ones have included me becoming a crane operator or meeting the love of my life as I check the mail after doing P90X.  In early high school, I wanted to be on America's Next Top Model and WIN. So me and my friends started building up a portfolio. Naturally. 

My Modeling Dream That Resulted In Blackmailable Pictures Like This One

I wish I could say this was a joke, but I honestly thought I was hot stuff. 

~ This past summer my little brother Bruce stole a bird from a nest and it became our pet. His name was Floyd. And I loved him. For about a week and a half. And then I hated that little avian. Oh Floyd, you really pushed my buttons, always begging for food and pooping on me and flying around your cage and squawking all night. 

The Phase Where I Loved Floyd- And The Phase Afterwards Where I Didn't

Such a charismatic and obnoxious robin. 

~ My illustrious High school experience was something that no one will remember. Excepting one thing. Kenzie and I's costumes to the 2011 Sadie Hawkins Dance. Now I don't want to seem like one of those people who talks about their "glory days" but that was my one true night of glory. WE WERE A HIT. Our wonderful costumes even got us to be the literal poster children to notifying people what the drinking age is at The Tacqueria. So, yes. I do consider myself somewhat famous.

That Time When Kenzie And I Were Extremely Popular And No One Recognized Me

Pinnacle of my existence. It can only go down from there. 

Adios Muchachos.

Temples are Rad

My room mate and good friend Iris just got married! Yesterday! In the temple! There was also a reception! I drank a lot of lemonade! We had a dance party in a greenhouse!

It was a most splendid affair and I am so grateful that I got to be a part of it. Most especially because I got to witness my first temple sealing/ceremony. We Mormons believe that families can be sealed together for time and all eternity (take that death!) and temples are where these ordinances take place. Its seriously the most beautiful thing, comparable to taking double-stuffed Oreos and putting marshmallow puff creme inside....but like a kajillion billion trillion times better.

Salt Lake Temple. My pose looks very Pinterest-esque, no?

First off, I apologize if you are reading this blog for some snarky commentary on my silly shenanigans. This post will be a teensy bit more sincere because I love the temple with all of my heart, no sarcasm permitted. If you want to hear more, read on! If not, read anyways!

If you have ever wondered what exactly goes on inside an LDS temple, this is not the place to find out. Neither is any backwoods forum on the Internet. Our temples are extremely sacred, which is why we are reserved in our explanation of it. But don't worry, it is nothing like the weird cultish things that go on in The DaVinci Code. That movie/book still haunts me.

All I really want to say about our temples is that I have never felt so much love in one place. It is the love of a Heavenly Father who is anxious about our well-being. He is heavily interested in our lives... if he has the Internet up in heaven I would bet you a million bucks he is one of my blog followers. My knowledge of my being a daughter of the Creator of this world is the reason I am leaving my life for 18 months to serve him in Peru. And I couldn't have a bigger supporter than the man upstairs.

Yippee for cool fountains and Elise going through the temple for the first time! And my cool carpet bag, of course. 

Oh, and did I mention that I ripped my dress on the way to the wedding? I did. My beautiful, elegant, $6 dollar dress tore because of my violent movements trying to eradicate an annoying sound in the back of the car.

It all went down like this;
Me: What is that sound?
Elise: I don't know.
Me: It's annoying me. Fix it.
Elise investigates, albeit a half-hearted endeavor.
Me: Its the bike tire or something.
Elise: I don't know what it is.
Me: UGH! FINE. I WILL DO IT.
I turn around very aggressively, extremely confident that I will solve the riddle of the unidentified sound.
Dress: RRRRIIIIIIIIIPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP
Me: Holy shit!

And that my friends, is how my dress tore right before a wedding. We got our greasy little paws on some safety pins and all was well. Besides when I safety pinned my sleeve completely shut. Road bumps are bound to ensue in this situation.

FYI. Driving with helmets is not weird, it's safe. Big difference. 

In case you didn't realize that this was very distressing to me, here is another picture. 

Congrats Eric and Iris! Hopefully you start popping out tons of offspring so you don't need to tease me about baby animals all the time. I know you will have a wonderful life together, even if you guys eat a ton of pork liver.

Happy Birthday Shawa!

My little demon of a sister turns 18 today. 

Shannon. Thanks for hissing back at me when I want to act like a cat and being my unwilling sidekick for your whole life. 

Thank you for being a lot more approachable than I am. It's saved me from a bunch of awkward and longwinded conversations in my day. 

Also, why are you so good at everything? I mean, seriously, stop being so athletic, artistic, and intelligent. But please get good at driving. That's something you could improve on. 

The only person who can wear a vintage dress to every formal dance and pull it off with ease. 

Built in parter-in-crime for 18 years. 

Sorry I wasn't your first kiss. Stupid Angelo. 

We wore Timbaland boots before it was considered cool. 

Thanks for loving me even when we hated each other. 

But I am not happy that you are turning out to be prettier than me. Not cool Shannon. Not cool.

You Are Not Alone

My major is Therapeutic Recreation and in all of my classes we learn about a lot of varying disabilities that we will come in contact with out in the field.  It is stressed heavily that everyone has worth, no matter what their disability may be. You are nonverbal and autistic? Not alone. Schizophrenic? Not alone. Have only one leg? Not alone. You get the gist.

Well I am just here to say that if you ever lock yourself into a bathroom stall and then can't get out...you are not alone. This happens to people. I think it is actually a common thing, it's just that no one admits to it. In all honesty, this is a huge demographic challenge, comparable to not getting the statistics right on the number of homeless people or something.

Some ignorant individuals may wonder how one locks themselves into a bathroom at a ski resort. Lets just say that it is much more complicated than your pinhead of a brain can comprehend.

But back to the "you're not alone" thread. It is understandably a very traumatizing thing to be stuck anywhere, especially if its a dark, dirty, hot, bathroom, and all your ski gear is on. You are not alone in this fear. Do not be ashamed because you were a bag of mixed emotions consisting of panic, humor, and embarrassment.

My recommendation for what to do when you are stuck in a public restroom is to;
A. Try to get out.
B. If that doesn't work than try again, maybe you understand the locking mechanism incorrectly.
C. Text your sister for help. (She probably won't get the message because there is no service in the forsaken place you are confined to.)
D. Try the lock again. Maybe it fixed itself.
E. Take a selfie to document the moment.
F. Contemplate climbing over the stall. Then don't do it because you might cause a commotion when people think you are a Peeping Tom.
G. Slide on your belly under the stall while horrified onlookers observe.
H. Wash your hands. Or don't, you are so dirty it probably doesn't matter anyways.
I. Walk out of the bathroom with swagger and confidence. Because after all, you are not alone in this.

Does this look like the face of a incompetent idiot? No. Because these types of things happen to everyone.

So be at ease. The more this issue is spoken of, the less degrading the stigma will be. It is in everyones best interest to be educated on this problem that afflicts our worlds brightest and most intelligent individuals.

Happy Weekending.

Hello False Spring!

The last couple of days in good ol' Provo USA have been balmy. Like 50 degrees warm. Like shorts and t-shirts, tanning in the snow, all the windows rolled down in the car, kind of heat.

Needless to say, its been glorious. 

Road biking in short sleeves (gasp!) Also, I have a gift for making any picture appear as unnatural as possible. 

Bluebird powder days at Snowbird. No wonder I dislike going to class. 

The sunshine has been so nice that I found myself dancing while walking to class. Not figuratively speaking either. Full on, "I am a ballerina!" type dancing. Sometimes I start to get embarrassed by myself but then I don't. I have no future in being cool.

So please continue living False Spring! Allow me to expose my lower legs to the sunlight occasionally or worry about getting a sunburn. Don't allow me to sink into a dejected gloom where I look like a swollen puffer fish because of the multiple sweaters and emotional eating habits I develop when in hibernation.

Unless of course you want to make way for Powder-All-Day-Every-Day Spring. Totally okay with that as well.

Frosty rats nest is a hip new hairstyle. Just a little tidbit from a budding fashionista. 

Sometimes I Forget How to Speak

Do you know that feeling where you walk around all day without speaking to anyone and then when you have to say some formality you literally forget how to form words? Is that a thing guys? No?

Welcome to my existence. 

For instance, today I think I went about 6 hours without speaking to a soul. And then in my physiology lab someone asked me a question and it went something like this; 

"eh hem ud hum duh plo buh ji de.....yes." 

My lab partner just stared at me and then we continued to work in silence. I pride myself on being smooth like Ryan Gosling or hot butter or puppies. And I also realized that I may or may not have dressed exactly like my mother did circa 1997. So I have that going for me I guess. 

I am an awkward beast. 

Cheers.

Correction on Being Corrected

I WAS RIGHT ABOUT THE AVA-LUNG. You do not breathe through your nose. Rookie mistake.

Boo to the freaking YAH!

Take that Mr. Logan Jones.

I am the zebra kicking your face in this scenario.

The Etiquette of Being Corrected

I love being right. Ask my room mate. We have "lively debates" over pretty much anything, even if we agree with each other. But don't worry, we both have come to the conclusion that arguing (when somewhat respectful) builds inter-brainular cells. If that is the case, then my little noggin has a multitude of very strong, stubborn, inter-brainular cells.

But sometimes I get into an argument or discussion where I am clearly wrong. Now, this doesn't happen too often (that I am aware of at least) but when it does it is painful for me and entertaining to everyone else. Once you realize that your information is extremely flawed, pretend like you knew it all a long. Be like, "oh yeah, I didn't realize we were talking about that". Or, "I think you understood my point incorrectly". Nobody will believe you but you can sometimes scrape by with a little bit of your dignity still intact. 

Let me illustrate this concept with an example...

I will be the first to tell you that I am not the most informed individual when it comes to backcountry skiing. I love to do it but I am still learning and I am on the right track and yadda yadda yadda. BUT, I love to be a mockingbird and repeat whatever my sister tells me so that I sound knowledgeable in group settings. This isn't a unique thing okay? Everybody tries to appear smarter than they really are. 

And this weekend I got an Ava-Lung for backcountry skiing. It's a pretty dope device that allows you to survive longer if you become buried in an avalanche. It looks something like this.

Can you tell that I was a little excited about my new toy? Thanks Jessica and Dan!

Later this weekend, I was feeling a little hardcore and decided to start dropping sick backcountry tidbits into my conversations with friends. This in and of itself was a bad idea because my friends actually know more than I do. Classic mistake.

When it got down to it, I tried to explain how an Ava-Lung works. I was very confident that I knew exactly how it operated. And I was wrong. So wrong, that my explanation of how to work it, if followed, would have killed someone. I guess breathing in one's carbon dioxide is lethal? 

But of course I was very adamant that I was right, and then when I was caught in a corner, I switched my argument around in a sheepish manner. "Oh, I thought I was saying that? Did I say breathe in through the mouth instead of the nose? How silly of me. I must have just mixed up my words a little. I know what I am talking about." Then everybody laughed at me and I changed the subject my pride was wounded.

In conclusion, I would just like to say that Logan Jones knows more about Ava-Lungs than me. And backcountry skiing. And how bikes work. And predicting when it will snow. But not how to process gluten. Totally have you beaten in that department buddy.