Toodles Noodles (Provo Farewells)

It's that time of year in Provo-land again. Everybody with a pulse is getting all twitter-pated, making out with lovers, and planning weddings. For us single folk, it is the time to pack up three cars worth of stuff, pretend to clean, and skedaddle to the town limits. I have been anticipating this moment for a long  time, the moment when I get to sprint on home to my Hood River. Although I am pleased as panda bears that I am going back to OREGON, I really do love the little home I have created in Provo.

I love how the sun tricks you to wear short sleeve shirts out in the middle of winter. Sun does not equal warmth here.
I love how almost everyone is as big of a geek as me. Most of the University is obsessed with Harry Potter, LOTR, Chronicles of Narnia, or any other loserish series that involves magic and sexy Rangers. (Aragorn is so YUMMY.)
I love the people who sit on their arses instead of climbing at The Quarry. The mystery has never been solved as to why these individuals love to sit on carpet that smells of a million sweaty feet.
I love all the babies that get paraded around campus come spring-time. Once I saw a whole group of babies with rain boots on and I think I actually stopped breathing for a couple minutes.
I love all the sexy guys that seem to be everywhere...even if they don't love me.
I love fighting with Ellis-Island and teasing Logan till he cries. I also love being "clever" with Kristen and being obsessed with my Emma-friend and Steffen (hubby).
I love the large demographic of baby tractors in Utah Valley. I have no idea why there are so many, but  consider me thankful in every sense of the word.
I love spending a large portion of my monthly budget on curry. Lots and lots of curry.
I LOVE WINCO.
I love dressing up super cute the first week of class and then when I don't scope out any hotties, dressing up like a hobo for the rest of the semester.
I love being a whiney, needy child to my sister.
I love mountain/road biking, climbing, long boarding, roller blading, backcountry/XC/downhill skiing, and all other types of adventuring. I also like to brag about them. Get over it.

This is Steffen my husband. And do not ask me why I feel an innate need to mess up every picture. It really baffles me. And my Grandmother.

I love my Emma-friend. And it is impossible to say anything sarcastic about her. Besides the fact that her native language is mumbling. 

This is my "I am on top of a mountain" pose. 

Awkward Family Photo.

Most adorable baby-tractor I ever did see. 

The Quarry. Where the carpet smells and the people smell worse.

Da Pow Pow skis.

Ellis-Island. I can't go anywhere by myself without people getting overly concerned about where my other half is. 

I really do love Provo-town. See you in two!

Toodles to the Noodles.

And Then They Put Me In A Straitjacket

I have found that the more education I receive, the more I am convinced that I have a serious mental illness. Delusions of grandeur? Check. Panic attacks? Check. Constantly performing rituals that make no sense? Check. This must mean I have a hybrid of Schizophrenia, Generalized Anxiety Disorder, and Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. Obviously it is quite easy to become completely dysfunctional with this pattern of thinking.

Cut to this afternoon and picture this. Me, lying on the floor, bathing in my own tears, as I wail about my diagnoses to my mother. If you can't imagine that, then envision something really pathetic times 23.  

Socks and Crocs. The poster-child of pathetic. (And I secretly kind of like Crocs? Should I have admitted that to the world-wide web?) 

I was 100% sure that something was wrong with me. If there wasn't something fundamentally flawed about me than why do I cry when everything is going right? And why do I think bad things about good people? Am I evil because I think slacklining is kind of lame? All of these questions were simmering in my brain for weeks and erupted into a big volcano of crazy. 

This experience led me to evaluate not only the state of my mental health but also the type of person I am. Is someone considered "good" if they can manage to be happy all the time, no matter what? Am I considered a "bad" person because I seem to experience the whole spectrum of emotions at any given time or place? Is stealing samples from the Winco bulk section "bad"? (Different debate for a different time, my fellow samplers... shout out to Kenzie Kerr, Queen of Sampling.) 

Now that I have managed to write a paragraph of only questions, I will endeavor to write a paragraph with no question marks and maybe some answers scattered in there as well. 

If being "good" means that I need to find joy in every little thing, than I have failed. There are a lot of things in this world that make me want to curl up in a ball and ugly-cry. These panic attacks are the result of missing my mother, feeling stupid, and witnessing all of the hate in this world. But I have come to understand that God gave us the ability to feel emotions because they are essential to our overall happiness. As an individual, I cannot feel love towards someone unless I also get annoyed by them. I cannot be thankful for the blessing of getting an education without hating the fact that I have to take tests and actually go to class. I cannot learn to serve others unless I also experience selfishness.

 It is important to remember that we are not crazy or "bad" because we fall into negative thoughts on a daily basis. Rather, we are "good" and resilient individuals because we still choose to try and be better. We choose to feel joy with the knowledge that sadness will inevitably be there as well. And most of all, we can let our crazy out by talking with one another. We are not alone in our happiness, which also means we are not alone in our moments of sadness and loneliness. As humans, we have the ability to vocalize our emotions and insecurities. They are not something we should be ashamed of, rather it is something to be proud of. "Your character is ugly and beautiful at the same time and I love you for it."

My mother: the woman who validates my erratic emotions every day and still likes to hang out with me. 

Wow. Didn't know I could be so deep and philosophical, eh? Just shows you what weeks of panic attacks and contemplation does to ones thinking capabilities. 

Happy National Zucchini Bread Day! 

NO MORE SCHOOL! FOR 2 YEARS!

FINALS ARE FINALIZED. I AM DONE I AM DONE I AM DONE I AM DONE.

This is the face of someone who really needed to be done with school. It is also the face of someone who takes selfies at stoplights, at the danger of being seen by other drivers. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I had to separate that really embarrassing picture from the rest. Which leads me to wonder why I post things like that? I mean, I really do have a choice of what I put on here. And it's not like I secretly think that picture is attractive. A pound of dry flour to the person who can solve the mystery of my brain. 

Anyways, as you have probably deduced from all the caps-locks, I no longer have school. I don't think I could have handled sitting down to take another test where I studied all the wrong things. I really think I would have exploded into a cloud of curry and hair. (It's time I get my yearly trim. I am starting to look like a cave-woman.) 

Someday I will open an exhibit at some dumpy art gallery and it will be entitled;

"Snapshots Of Finals Week Winter 2013- From The Eyes Of Alex"

And it will look exactly like this. 

World, meet Oscar the Food Baby. (And yes, I send my pregnant sister creepy pictures like this a lot.) 

Road biking. This was before we realized we would have to ride against the wind the entire way back. 

Carina and I were home-girls in England. Shannon and I would fight over who would be her favorite.  And I also told her that I shouldn't have gotten such a huge smoothie, and then proceeded to chug it all. 

Studying with Emma and her makeshift sun bonnet. 

My friends were a little disgusted by my putting raspberry jam on my taco. I lied and said it was the best taco in the universe. 

And I am quite aware that I don't have any pictures of me actually taking tests or studying. Just use your imagination while I go sleep off my Physiology exam. 

Cheers to SUMMER VACATION! 

I Only Talk About Food

The semester is coming to a close, and Elise and I are panicking. Not because of finals, not because of missions, not because we're leaving our friends, but because of food. 

We've been trying to eat every last thing in our apartment and things are getting slim. And I mean slim, my friends. I am genuinely concerned that I am going to be eating feta cheese and month-old hummus for the next couple of days. Cross-eyed kitty comes to visit and I have nothing to offer her! Is that how she is going to remember me for the rest of her lives?! 

Food has always defined my existence. Have you heard of the mantra, "I eat to live, not live to eat"? Well I think that is hog-wash. Why do you think I am active? Do you think I enjoy listening to Tony on P90X sexually harrassing people? NO! I do it so I can shove food down my gullet! Eating is even better than having a gentleman-friend because food will always love you (even when you get a little chubby) and you still get to suck face. Can a man make you as happy as a gallon of brownie ice cream? It cannot. And nothing beats eating bowls upon bowls of Massaman curry at Thai Mango. It's impossible. 

Now that I have managed to prove how much of a fatty I am, let me continue the trend by warning you that if we hang out I will only talk about food. If I do happen to speak on a different subject like mountain biking or politics, I will somehow relate it to eating. It's a gift. Having a conversation on the intricacies of black holes? My reply may be something like; "I like hot dogs." or "Remember that one time we ate an entire loaf of french bread in the store?". 

A couple nights ago I had a nightmare that made me truely comprehend how potentially dangerous this love is. My dream was that Nicholas Cage kept asking me out to eat. I of course didn't want to be dating the weirdest actor on this planet (besides Robin Williams) but I continued to kiss him (gross) and spend every day with him because we ate out for every meal. I would be about ready to break off the horrid affair when he would mention that he wanted to take me to Tucanos or Olive Garden.... This went on for a long time and if I hadn't woken up I would have become Mrs. Cage, all because of my greedy little stomach. 

I ate at least two platters of crab cakes at this wedding. 

This is at Easter dinner. I am apparently really entranced with those lamb chops in front of me. 

One of the many many pictures on my phone of food. This is a Nutella crepe. Consider the relationship FB official. 

Now if you will excuse me, I am going to Sunday dinner. To eat. My Grandma made cookies and I predict that I will eat the entire jar. 

Also, I hate people who say that serving sizes should be made smaller. WHY? WHY? WHY? That is just cruel and my belly cries every time I think about it. 

Happy Sabbath. 

The Maple Canyon Adventure

Lately I have been feeling very grown up. The Robertson's decided to graduate and move away so my nearest family lives FIFTEEN whole minutes away. Slowly being cut off, you see. Being a grown up is hard work. I actually make my own food, hang out with my friends on a regular basis, and buy my own dinner at restaurants, all things I never did when my sister still lived in Provo-town.

To celebrate my newly-minted grown up status I came up with the logical idea of planning a get-away to Goblin Valley for me and all my friends. Great idea, right? The answer is no. Apparently I am just not cut out for planning anything remotely major. I managed to sleep in, lose my keys, have a melt down, and buy generic marshmallows which all melted together, all before we even left the house. 

Event planning is not in my future. 

Luckily, Logan, Elise, Kristen, and Emma kept it together. We rallied at around 9:30 AM on Saturday and changed the location of our trip to Maple Canyon down in Moroni, UT. 

Such a good idea. 

It was just so liberating to roll around in the dirt, eat bags of Twizzlers, and climb all. weekend. long.

In order to fully reap the benefits of the "Maple Canyon Experience", one must adhere to the four C's.

Camping, Climbing, Canyoneering, Churching.

Maple Canyon has many places where you can camp. It's only 8 dollars a night and if you're me you  will somehow get away with only contributing 1 dollar. A gurgling stream will gurgle cheerfully all night long as it runs about 2 feet away from your tent. If you feel like this would bother you, bring ear plugs. 

It gets real cold-like at night so bring fuzzy socks, sweaters, and a blanket poncho. (If you do not own a blanket poncho I suggest you go purchase one at your local thrift store. Or take an old rug and cut a hole in it so you can stick your noggin through.) 

Food. You may want to pack something besides uncooked pasta and Oreos. 

Tent. Five people have a difficult time sleeping in a three person tent, in case you were wondering. 

Facilities. There is a very clean and very fresh smelling outhouse up the road from the camp sites. It is also possible to just go in the woods somewhere, as long as Logan the Leave-No-Trace police doesn't catch you. 

Kristen and I took this picture from the safety of the car. 

Siamese poncho buddies. We were so good at avoiding helping in any way. 

The climbing in Maple Canyon is world-famous. So famous in fact, that pretty much nobody has ever heard of it. But according to the climbing forums on the Internet, it really is famous across the globe. Climbing here is unique because the rock is conglomerate, meaning that there are a bunch of boulders and rocks cemented together to make one giant, bumpy, wall. Hint: At first you will be scared that the wall will fall apart, then you will get super comfortable, and then rocks will fall on your head. Nothing is more terrifying than your hand hold falling out while you're on a multi-pitch climb. Learn from my mistakes and use caution. It would also be beneficial for you to make sure that both the belayer and climber are wearing helmets.

We climb! 10 points for Hufflepuff for being so hardcore! 

We decided last minute that we wanted to do some extra exploring before we took the trek back home to Provo-land. When you go to Maple Canyon I implore you to check out Box Canyon. It is on the right side of the road as you drive in and is huge. Even Elise noticed it, and she is not well-known for being observant. Box Canyon is very deep and winds around with different caves and rocks to explore and climb on. Apparently if you go far enough, the canyon gets more technical with repels, a waterfall, and all that jazz. I am definitely coming back because A) the acoustics in this canyon were off the hook (We were actually singing about Gollum fairly loudly when other hikers past us) and B) I greatly desire to finish this canyon.

I love conglomerate rock! 

If you come to Maple Canyon, please please PLEASE be aware that rocks will fall out of the sky and make you poop your drawers. But really... be careful. 

We scrambled up to this cave only to realize that it was a latrine for a colony of birds. 

And churching. Elise woke us all up 5 minutes before it started in a panic. People were brushing their teeth in the car, eating pretzels for breakfast, and changing into their Camping-Sunday-Best. The Jeep was flying down the country roads when we noticed a commotion up ahead. It was a giant herd of sheep out for a Sunday stroll. Definitely a highlight of my life.
We got to go to sacrament meeting in the bustling Metropolis of Moroni and I am 97.3% sure that everyone in that town was there. We came in late, looking and smelling like we had just woken up in a tent. People looked fairly disgusted but we just whipped our campfire hair at them and sat down. Overall, a very pleasant affair.

This herd paid us no heed. But why should they? Such balla animals. 

We are dirty and my skirt is obviously very see-through. 

This was a poor attempt at trying to write a post that was reminiscent of those brochures that one could find at the now extinct travel agencies. Did it work? Not really, but one must fluff their feathers in order to spread their wings. (hehehehehehe....what?)

Go to Maple Canyon! Sit in dirt! Eat crappy food! Climb! And don't forget to go to church!

Fell Into A Depression And Then Crawled Out

If you have seen a monster in a filthy sweater scuttling around campus today, do not fear. It was only me in a disarrayed state that one can only describe as karma for being a chronic procrastinator. I have written about 50 pages worth of essays in the last twenty four hours, tried to understand physiology, and crammed hours of volunteer work in for my abnormal psychology class. How did I think 22 hours of service at the USH would fit into a span of a week and a half?!? HOW?!?

Before you pity me, remember that I totally deserve this pain. 

It's easy to fall into a depression in this situation, especially when even the vending machine denied your request for Swedish Fish. But do not fear, POSITIVITY is here! As I stared at my essay that needs a table of contents because it's that long, I realized how blessed I am. I have the opportunity to go to school!  And no one can stop me from wearing the same pants three days in a row because I live in America where it's completely legal to be a slob of a woman. Hip Hip Hooray for rights!

Also, I get to go on ADVENTURES on the daily in conjunction with receiving an education. 

That's pretty blessed. 

Skiing The Bird in da fluffy goodness Utah is famous for. 

Walking to school and creepily smelling the blossoms. 

If you happen to be in Provo-town please go to the Banana Leaf. The passion between my taste buds and the Tikka Masala.... 

Seeing a picture of my niece for the first time. Definitely inherited my propensity for a shiny forehead. 

Shopping for mission attire. And does anybody else hate it when you're the only one who is trying to look good in a picture? Makes me blush every time. 

Conference with my future SISTER MISSIONARY. Cusco Peru here we come!

Rock climbing with my main peeps. 

So be happy! The time to feel joy is this moment. Or after I finish this stupid essay....

Apologies: I Am A Middle School Boy

I love pranks. And chicken nuggets. And dinosaurs. And acting like a dinosaur. And running like a T-Rex. And corn dogs. And Lord of the Rings memes.

It really goes on and on. 

But I love pranks. I wouldn't consider myself to be an expert prankster who creates elaborate and complicated booby traps, but I am a pretty decent liar. Which I have heard is a good qualification for full-time missionaries? 

So this is me saying I am sorry Logan. I am sorry I told you my sister was having twin boys. And I am sorry I let you believe that lie for over 24 hours. Sorry I made you call her at 11 at night to congratulate her. And I am sorry for getting in a one-sided water/spitting war with you. Most of all, I am sorry you biked off in a huff...and that I giggled about it for a ridiculous amount of time afterwards. 

hehehehehehehehehehehhehehehehehehehehehehe.... but it's still funny. 

Before the Falling-Out. 

And now some more male prepubescent characteristics I have accumulated over my lifetime. 

Did I mention that I like dinosaurs? There is a building full of them on campus. Such a wonderland. 

I saved this picture under "Cute" on my computer. Pretty much sums it up. 

****I will accept a Baby-Tractor as a gift anytime, anywhere. Or a ride in one. Or a picture of one.***

Your mother is taking a nap in the sun. What do you do? If you are me, you cover her in seaweed and then shriek, "LEECHES! LEECHES! GET OUT OF THE WATER!"

 Pachycephalosaurus shenanigans.

If you are bored I will gladly rub food all over my face. 

My middle school-aged brother and I get along great. And before you get concerned about the fate of my nose, this was my idea of a "dope picture". 

I contracted this horrific injury rock climbing. But don't worry I bragged about it for days afterwards to my friends. Which is something twelve year old boys tend to do on a regular basis. 

A recent To-Do list of mine. High expectations= high outcomes. 

To all fellow middle school boys; Puberty won't last forever, but immature poop jokes and fast-food lovin' will. 

Rock on suckas. 

Where I Admit To My Inconsistency When It Comes To Affection

Have you noticed that the titles to all my posts are getting longer and longer? I'm sure I could find some cognitive roots to this trend relating to my childhood or something but I'll just leave it at that.

Big news of the year; Elise and I finally cemented our status of Best-Friends. It was purely accidental on my part because I really don't like affection, excepting some individuals. We were sitting in our apartment, most likely eating, and we finally admitted to the fact that we were best! friends! and! soul! sisters! (This was actually said out loud by me, which is kind of cringe-worthy.) Then it got a little too sentimental so we traded some insults and voila! Now all we have to do is make things FB official and we can continue being wesbian wuvas.

Common sight around Apt 14. 

It's really quite strange that Elise and I have been inseparable for almost two years and yet it took me so long to admit that we were da bestest of friendses. What does that say about me? Am I really that afraid of affection?

Let us delve deeper into this conundrum...

I don't like hugs. In my opinion, it's just way too intimate for mere acquaintances to indulge in. A hug is literally two people pressing their chests and bellies together. Weird. Amirite?
But I do like to snuggle. But only with my mother, my Karrie-Baby, or man-boy's I find very attractive.

I don't have a nose! Also, I love my mother more than jelly donuts. 

My Karrie-Baby. We are the strangest little duo in every way but that doesn't stop our love affair.

And... that seems to be the end of the conundrum. I really thought my inconsistent behavior towards PDA was more complicated. 

And while we are on the topic of affection may I please tell you how much I love this sporadic rain here in Utah? I do. For one, it reminds me of Oregon. More importantly, it means WORMS. Earth worms are such stellar little critters. As a youngster I would spend many an hour transferring the endangered worms on the road to the safety of the dirt.
There were tons of worms to save this week. Consider me an everyday hero.

The organization on this post is all over the place. Friends, PDA, and worms? Blame it on impending finals. Or assume my brain naturally doesn't make sense. 

Yay for midterms! 

And a friendly reminder to not squish the worms.