Torture Is A Sugar Fast

Why is that we like to create our own misery and suffering? When life is going along smoothly why do we feel the need to throw ourselves into pitfalls and purposely place stumbling blocks in our path?

In other words, why do we do sugar fasts?

The last time I decided to do a sugar fast was after I woke up with a literal sugar hangover. I had overdosed on gummy worms and Cadbury Eggs (sinful, it's so good) and had to crawl with a pounding headache to work at 4:30 AM. I felt like up-chucking all over the vacuum and digging a nest in a wall and dying like a sickly rat.

Sugar hangovers are rough. 

Below you can see how that sugar fast turned out. The best way to cure sugar-induced morning sickness? Eating a jelly donut for breakfast. I have self-destructive tendencies. This is one of the many reasons why I don't drink or do drugs.

I'm so weak, it's pathetic. 

So when my dear and masochistic friend Elise asked if I wanted to do a sugar fast for a MONTH I was incredulous. "Hmmmm.. I prefer not to disturb my homeostasis by eliminating something that is keeping me from collapsing from exhaustion. Thank you for the offer, but NO." 

Despite all my murmurings and groans she managed to force me into an agreement to do it. I'm still shaking my head over how she did it. The side effects of this sugar fast could probably be likened to an addict going through withdrawals. My body trembles! My hands sweat when I turn down free candy. I sometimes eat a spoonful of jelly when making PB&J's just to get something sweet.... (Please never read that Elise and murder me. IT DOESN'T COUNT.) 

It may be torture but I am excited to see how much better I'm going to feel. They don't lie when they said that sugar is a drug. As an advocate for moderation in all things, it's time I start living it. Every single one of us have dangerous habits that we keep guarded like a pet termite we don't want to get rid of. Is it sugar? The Internet? Degrading music and other media? Painful sarcasm? Feelings of being a victim? Diet Coke? Complacency? Let's kick these habits once for all! 

Bring it on sugar fast! And when I finish conquering you I am hightailing it right to The Chocolate to eat a giant cookie with ice cream on top. Booyah. 

Me fleeing from sugar temptations. (This demonstrates my deathly fear of feeding horses. I was never born to be a horse-woman.) 

Don't believe I have an obsession? Look at this post.

Moab Madness And Other Adventures

Sunday nights always seem to be a little melancholy. I tend to stare at my pictures from the carefree days before, stocking up on serotonin to get me through the midterms that never seem to end. Aren't they supposed to end eventually? When does the recess bell ring so I can go outside and hang on the monkey bars and pretend to be a sloth?

/// Weekends. The recess of a college student. ///

And seeing that it is much too late to right anything witty or charming or innovative, I am going the lazy just-paste-pictures-with-stupid-captions approach. Enjoy.

*And we all know how lazy I really am because I didn't finish this on Sunday night.  I even procrastinate on blog writing.*

Night mountain biking. Some suggest that this is dangerous but being bored and sad is also dangerous. You win some, you lose some.

Taking a picture of my shoes so I have an excuse to rest my aching bones while running. 

Getting up to the top of the trail and realizing that I have to run all the way back. (This is when I could benefit from having a boyfriend to come pick me up and buy me an ice cream.)

MOAB! I swear Elise is not nude in this picture. We went swimming in the Colorado. And it was deliciously cold.

Moab is Disneyland without lines or screaming children or overpriced Gumbo.

BECKSTEAD turned 21! This meant that we ate mildly gross Peruvian food, bought her a cat onesie, cracked eggs on her head and shoved her face in the cake. Peruvian culture is the best culture.

So majestic. This girl is the best sport ever. She was one of the biggest examples to me on the mission and I feel so incredibly blessed to still be her friend. Have her do her Penelope impression from SNL. She really is the Cat's Pajamas.

You know it will be a good Friday when your car has skis and a bike in the back. #blessed

My Father came out to see me again! He is just recently getting into the Chuck Norris jokes...I know I know, he is about 7 years late, that bandwagon set off when I was a sophomore in High school. 

GO TO DRAPER UTAH TO MOUNTAIN BIKE. Take the "Rush" trail because it is so so so so fun. Banked turns, jumps, and it's one-way on the downhill so you don't have to worry about collisions. And the dirt is PURR-FECT right now. Go go go! 

Sometimes people ask me if I get tired of my parents coming to Utah so often. I just stare at them and shake my head..."You just don't have a Shane and Sandy for parents so you don't understand." 

Evidence of the before mentioned: My Dad helped me attach pink, sparkly streamers on my mountain bike's handlebars. Only the pros do it. 

I have decided that there should be a new TLC show called "Camp Fire Wars: People Duking It Out Over Which Method Is Best." I have also decided that people don't understand the No-Judge Zone when it comes to quantities of A1 sauce. There is no such thing as too much A1 sauce on anything, especially tinfoil dinners.

Breakfast for dinner with the grandparents. Watching every PBS period drama ever made. Snoozing to Antiques Roadshow. Sunday Paradise.

Suggestion for those going to Moab to mountain bike. Check out the "Bar-M" trail system. It's just off the highway before you reach the town limits. This place is rad. It's fantastic for all skill levels and is just so so so fun.

According to this picture Mat and Camren are Siamese twins. If Moab is Disneyland, "Slickrock" is Space Mountain. It is the reason why you even go in the first place. It's also a great place to leave with giant bruises all over and if you're Mat, heat stroke from eating too many salted almonds and not enough water. 

Hooray for weekends! Sleeping under the stars, watching shooting stars, never brushing your hair, living like a gypsy. It's the good life. 

Now it's time to buckle down, put my nose to the grindstone, and work as hard as I can at school because the weekend will be here in 5 days. The countdown begins.

Kitchen Crumbs

My life ain't perfect. And I hope my blog never gives off that false impression. You know those people you follow on Insta that completely bombard you with pictures of their perfect spouse, perfect outfits, perfect dinners and perfect lifestyles? You don't have to delve deep into my Internet presence to see that 1) I have none of those things, 2) I am an emotional psychopath, 3) I had perfect hair pre mission but 4) I don't anymore.*sobs*

As a society we want to live up to that perfect norm characterized by spontaneity and cute sunglasses and candid laughing pictures. (My dream:to one day get a cute candid laughing picture. My belly laugh creates strange facial contortions that are anything but adorable.) It's time to be genuine with everyone. 

We all have bad days. And they can be much more regular than we like to let on. I try to fill my life with positive and fun adventures, but sadness is a thing, and I'm not going to try and shove it under the refrigerator like unseemly kitchen crumbs so no one will see it. 

About a week ago I felt like I had one too many crumbs littering the kitchen of my life. It was 8 AM and I had just spent several grueling hours trying to stay positive as my flipping vacuum kept breaking. Without any real cause at all I felt unloved, forgotten and blue. My little spirit had been weighed down with worldly cares and it was like everywhere I turned I saw my imperfections snarling back at me. 

In despair I sat down to eat away my sorrows in Cinnamon Toast Crunch (don't buy this cereal in bulk unless you want to eat it for every meal til it runs out. Addiction). As custom I began to offer a prayer to God, thanking him for the food before me. As I prayed I unburdened my soul. "Oh God. I know I have a long way to go. I know I'm self-centered and slightly inappropriate. There's no reason I should be sad, so why do I want to cry? Please help me to feel your love. Anything will help. I just need a hug from you." 

Immediately on opening my eyes I saw this pop up on my phone screen. 

Quiet tears coursed down my face as I stared at this text message. Three words I. Love. Alex. And the senders name at the top. Dad.

We have a loving Father in Heaven. He loves us more than anything we can comprehend. He doesn't mind that we're sad for no reason sometimes. He doesn't hold back his love because his children are disobedient and imperfect and slightly bruised and tattered. In the words of President Thomas S Monson, " His love is simply always there."

I am grateful that I don't have to pretend that my life is just one big ball of perfect. It's not, nor will it ever be. I'm grateful for a dad who has no qualms of sending me a three word text message in the morning to say he loves me. And most of all, I'm grateful that I can feel the Supreme Creator's love at all times. He answers prayers. It is no coincidence that I got that message right after my pleadings for a sign of His love. He lives. He loves us.

Be grateful for the kitchen crumbs.

Playing Hooky

How glorious has this weather been, am I right? We're talking about 65 degrees in March! Sun! Vitamin D! But can we acknowledge that there are many setbacks to such tropical weather? For one, the fact that people are wearing sandals when their feet are clearly not "publicly presentable". Let's all just agree that feet must be prepped before the big sandal debut. Please and thank you. Also, how do people make lounging in the sun look so pleasant? My attempt at basking resulted in s.w.e.a.t. and fleeing back to the shade where I didn't feel like a melting grease ball.

No. I am not here to chat about Spring problems and all the twitterpated PDA on campus, I am here to talk about l a s t  w e d n e s d a y.

Looking at this picture you can probably guess that I wasn't cleaning whiteboards or going to class or going to my volunteer obligations on Wednesday. It was a ditch-everything-and-get-your-booty-to-Snowbird-because-it-just-snowed-22-inches day. If any future employers are reading this, I'll be straight up from the beginning. I skip everything if it has snowed. (But actually, if you are a future employer, I am just kidding and this is actually just a chapter of a poorly-written novel I am writing. I'm actually the poster child of responsibility.)

According to this picture I lick steering wheels when I get excited. It's whatever. And I just realized that my parking sticker from Sophomore year is still on the back of the rear view mirror. I should definitely take that off... 

I'm going to utilize a word that I loathe and detest and I'm sorry. THE SKIING WAS EPIC ON WEDNESDAY. EPIC EPIC EPIC EPIC. *cringe cringe cringe cringe* It was inhaling dry fluffy powder all day and eating sweet peppers on the lift and massaging sore jaws from smiling so much day. It was one of those days when you feel authentic. (ugh. Is anyone else grossed out with my writing style tonight? I'm so sorry I just used epic and authentic in the same paragraph..) It was one of those days where I felt so happy and free that I never wanted it to end.

But there is a slight hiccup to such ethereal joy. It's the black stain on a perfectly white square of carpet. It's called powder fever and it's a deadly thing. We were up at the top of Mineral Basin and the ski patrol hadn't opened it up for anyone yet. There were about 300 skiers at the top literally frothing at the mouth, waiting for the line to drop so that they could devour up that pow. We professed to being above "all that hype" and "it can't be good enough to stoop to that level anyway..." And yet we suddenly found ourselves at the forefront of the mob smacking our jowls, waiting for the line to drop...

And when it did. I can't really describe it any other way besides a reference to the wildebeests in The Lion King. Straight up anarchy and chaos. All I clearly remember is hearing a reverberating roar behind me and seeing Elise hurl herself into the powder, followed by about 299 other deranged skiers. It's all a blur, but I think I got the line caught around my head and looked somewhat like a wildcat who had been caught in a bear trap. Straight up savage. Somehow I extricated myself out and barged down the hill, whooping and hollering. I could see people colliding on every side of me but the snow was so goooooooood. Several somersaults later I was one of the first to arrive at the lift and if heaven isn't what we were all feeling, it's so not worth it. How does one describe the emotions following a pristine and crazed powder run? You can't.... and that is why this blog post is so badly composed.

I don't know how or when this picture was taken, but it seems to sum it all up much better than words. 

But where was Elise? In the mayhem that had ensued I had lost her. hehehehe. It's just so painfully tragic that it makes me chuckle. Elise had LOST HER SKI. On the biggest powder day of the year! 22 inches in Mineral Basin! Untouched manna from the heavens and she had LOST HER SKI.

You can see another victim of the stampede behind Elise in the yellow jacket.

She was the Mufasa in the whole Lion King scenario. Straight up massacred on the slopes. And all I can say about the whole thing is that skiing down 22 inches of freshly fallen snow is a lot easier than trying to find a buried ski in 22 inches of freshly fallen snow. Lesson learned: Don't be that guy. But if you do happen to be that guy, be like Ellis Island. She's the champion of optimism.

Thank you Wednesday. Thanks for giving me a day so achingly beautiful and a best friend to enjoy it with. (That had romantic undertones. Sorry.) And don't fret! We managed to get face shots until closing time so Elise's day wasn't ruined by being the victim of the powder frenzy.

To playing hooky on Wednesdays! Hurrah!

Oh Sister Sister (Not The TV Show)

DISCLAIMER. Reading about someone's sisters is like taking a bath in corn chips. (corny, if you didn't get the poorly crafted joke.) You have been duly warned.

Sisters. You start out life taking those pictures on the coach where you're accidentally strangling the smaller one and end comparing varicose veins while eating banana jello in mu mu's. It's the kind of relationship involving slamming toes in the door jam and stealing brushes and fighting over who gets to wear the legwarmers on 80's day... It's a lot of selfie-taking, double chin making, Panda Express eating with all the food guilt that follows. Having sisters means you always have someone who truly sees how ugly your personality can get and can tell you to "shut up and eat something because you're hangry."

Sisters are everything that is kind and fun and slightly aggravating. But mostly the fun and kind part. So this is all just me trying to say HAPPY BIRTHDAY JESSICA AND SHANNON.

Jessica. 
Everywhere I turn to in Provo reminds me of you. I miss you when I pass that sketchy part of South Provo where you used to live, I miss you at family dinners, I miss you when I see it's sunny and all I want to do is bike to the lake with you.... I miss you when a cute boy says hi to me and I just want to analyze it all with you and Wise Wise Dan... I long for your company when I longboard and ski pow pow and mountain bike and go to lunch. I miss you in every moment and I want you to know that I think you are the most beautiful pregnant creature in the world and that I just can't wait for this semester to end so I can see you and talk to you for hours and make fun of the fact that you always seem to have a bun in the oven these days. And thank you for saving me spiritually by giving freely of your love and being so Christ-like that I couldn't help but change. I love you. HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

Shannon.
Sister Sister. You're my dearest friend and I love you. We have so many moments together that define who I am. We've gone through a lot. Moments that were painful beyond words, but those moments sewed our two hearts together in an unspeakable bond. You will forever be my lets-go-watch-a-chick-flick friend, my up-for-anything adventure buddy and basically the hot version of the Ostler Clan. Your voice is as beautiful as your soul and I am so grateful that you don't eat sugar anymore because it means more for me, I love you to Argentina and back a million times three. No words can describe how proud I am to know that you are spreading the Gospel to the people who need your beautiful light. BESOS POR SIEMPRE. Happy Birthday!

Now go and hug your sister and don't start watching the Sister Sister show again because it was kind of lame....

Man Crush Monday

MCM or Man Crush Monday is everything I stand for. I don't want to be boastful, but having creepy crushes are kind of my thing. I think I even blogged about this in 2013, before MCM was even a thing on Insta....so hip. (here!)

Let's talk about this majestic man bun my baby brother is rockin' in this ^^picture. ^^ I'm pretty on the fence with the whole trend. On one hand I'm like "hmmmm....you are just so edgy and you probably like to travel and eat thin-crusted pizza.. I can deal." And then on the other hand I'm thinking " BOI. YOU BE STEALING MY THUNDER. THE BUN ON TOP OF THE HEAD IS MY THING."

#dreamcatchersforlife

Struggles.

Stop me! I already titled this post Man Crush Monday, not Alex's Thoughts On Man Buns. Let's get off this detour and back to the point. 

The crux of the matter is that I am constantly falling in love with the most random people in existence. It's actually quite concerning. I can have a different crush for each class of the day. Crushes on people I see at the bike racks. On boys who stop at the same stop light as me... The list goes on and on. 

Actually. Let's put some examples of extremely strange crushes I have. And you will see that this is why I am still so desperately single. 

• The Anatomy TA with red hair who is nice and doesn't make me feel dumb. 
• The red head in high school whose house I would run by and always tie my shoe right next to his mailbox. 
• Okay, let's get real. ALL RED HEADS. 
• A highliner who was more than 10 years my senior and probably looked at me like he looks at hyperactive squirrels at the park, mildly entertaining but not something you want to keep.  (Hi Ryan! Marry me please!) 
• That kid who was really good at mountain biking. His class got out the same time as mine did and he would always walk past my bike rack. So I did what any level-headed adult would do. And this makes me blush...I would linger. For a while. Taking my time getting the lock off, adjusting my helmet, rummaging in my backpacking, texting.... all so I could see him as he walked by and say hi. It wasn't too surprising when he stopped walking that way after a while.... *sigh* 
• The now-pro skier who took me to one of those trampoline places.... ah. It was doomed from the beginning. I hate those things. I always get the foam dust in my eyes and I can't do flips and I'm afraid I'll suffocate in the foam pit. But that didn't stop me from loving him for years...Rephrasing that. I still love him. Dang trampoline place ruined everything.
• My best friend's stepbrother in high school (Hi Christopher!). I started listening to country music so I could sing along with him when he would give me rides home. "Oh! You like this song too?!? Let's date!" Nothing came of it besides an awkward Prom date and a never-ending love for country music that lives on. 
• Every LAX bro in existence. I literally hate these people and their coolness and flat brimmed hats and weird haircuts. And why do all your girlfriends have stick legs and fake eyelashes and super straight hair that always looks good in a beanie? Seriously. It's like I loath them and their culture so much and yet, I want to date all of them. Is that weird? It's weird. Moving on...
• Not moving on. I am in love with the LAX bro in my anatomy class. I love/hate his arrogant face and how he never uses the aisle but steps over the chairs.... Today it seemed that he almost paused at the door so we went out at the same time. And then we walked side by side to the same building. All without speaking a word to each other. *breathless* 
• Everyone that is good at skiing. 
• The Asian Australian from this post. I forced my room mate to set us up and then I realized accents aren't everything? We had nothing in common? meh. 
• The hipster in my Human Development class who I swear WINKED AT ME the first day of class. Or he has an eye twitch... it's really all debatable. 
• Most men I see in the library...until I see their girlfriend come in and start making out with them. 

My goodness. That was longwinded. But oh my friends, it is just the tip of the iceberg. I think we can all sum this up by saying I have problems and am doomed to love from a distance. In the creepiest way possible, of course.

Happy Man Crush Monday. And let's discuss man buns sometime?