confession

When I was around eight years old, it became known to me that many people had chosen a favorite verse of scripture. Well, I didn't want to be left out of such a righteous endeavor, so I decided it was time to choose mine.

So I did the first thing that any self-respecting eight-year-old would do and opened to Genesis, deciding that was a good place to start looking. I only had to read to verse three before the heavens opened, and I knew without a shadow of a doubt that this verse was my new favorite scripture. For those of you who don't have the book of Genesis memorized, it reads:

"And God said, Let there be light: and there was light."

You see, at the time, I was incredibly scared of The Dark. I didn't like walking around my house at night unless all the lights were on (and even then, you never knew when someone would be hiding behind a couch or something), and going to the bathroom after everyone had already gone to bed was pretty much out of the question. There was probably someone hiding in the hallway for goodness sakes!

Well, umm...I have a confession to make.

I am still scared of The Dark.

I can remember countless times in high school when I would have to walk out to the living room to get something, calmly telling myself the entire time that there was nothing to be scared of. I would turn on every light on the way out, and once I had retrieved what I was seeking, all of my common sense jumped out the window and I would book it as fast as I could back to my bedroom. I've never really been an athlete, but it's interesting how my long-jumps improved during these moments. I would make a flying leap from the hallway, soar over the dog laying on my bed, and land, grabbing the blankets and pulling them over my head as fast as I could. Because let's face it, no murderer would ever try getting past those blankets.

I know my dogs loves me, but it was always during those moments when I knew he was questioning my sanity. He would look up at me with an expression that clearly communicated his distaste at my having ruined his slumber. Sometimes he would even get off the bed and lay on the floor, as if to say, "See what you've done?"

Sadly, it was only after I was tucked safely in bed that I would realize that in my haste, I had forgotten to turn off all the lights.

I wish I could say that since then, maturity has set in, and I am now a rational, level-headed adult who is no longer scared of ridiculous things such as The Dark. Unfortunately, both of my roommates being gone at night brings to the surface many of the same fears that I have always had.

Thankfully, however, I am now better equipped than I have ever been.

After one particularly scary movie many moons ago, Matt gave me a broken golf club to serve as protection so that I would be able to sleep that night. (It may have actually been partially that he wanted to be able to go home that night and sleep as well.)

To this day, that broken golf club sits next to my bed.

Good thing the dark is scared of broken golf clubs.

Hey, we all have something we're afraid of.

reconciliation

Dear Body,

Why? Why.

I feed you. I clothe you. I keep a roof over your head. I take you running 5 times a week.

I thought we were pretty close.

Do you not like the food? I know I feed you a lot of Mr. Pibb, but I thought we both felt the same way about that. You seem to like it. Is it all the candy? Okay, so I know I may eat too much of it sometimes, but you seem to like sugar, too. It's the salads, isn't it? You don't like the salads. Am I right?

What about the clothes? I try to wear only things that will keep you comfortable. We avoid wearing heels (except on Sunday, you know the rules) to ensure total comfort and almost always wear jeans. I thought you liked the jeans.

Is it the apartment? So I know it's not the cutest apartment in the world, but it's pretty nice. I'm a college student - what do you want? The Taj Mahal?

I know running makes you hurt sometimes, but it's for your good. Really. Take my word for it. Feeling like you are going to suffocate is a good thing sometimes. And the muscle aches are indicative of future strength. We are going to be buff. We like buff. Remember?

So why do you make me feel sick so often? If we are going to make this relationship work, you need to do your part, too. We need to work together.

I can't do this alone anymore.

I really do love you. Please try to remember that.

Sincerely and with much love,
Your Inner Self

oh self

Good old Ralph has really done a number on me this time. I'm not even kidding.

So we all know I've done a lot of stupid things in my lifetime. It's no secret.

Well...I might have just done one of the stupidest things in my LIFE. The stupid of all stupids.

Curious yet? You should be.

Okay. Well, yesterday, I got home late, because I went to have dinner with Matt's old roommates. That was actually super fun. I hadn't hung out with that group since Matt left, so it was really good to see them all again. Anyway, when I finally got home, it was dark, and I did the first thing I always do when I get home: check the mail. You probably have suspicions as to why I do this, and you are probably right.

Anyway, there was a key in my mailbox, which signified that I had a package in one of the lockers nearby. The key had a #2 on it, which was associated with the #2 locker. Makes sense, right? Well, I grabbed the key, put it in the lock, and turned. Nothing happened. I turned again. Again nothing happened. I was getting frustrated now, but I wasn't going to give up. I turned it again, and this time, to my astonishment...the key broke. Yep, that's right. It broke. I held half the key in my hand while the other half was still stuck in the lock. I was stunned. I had no idea what to do. I spent the next few minutes ranting to my roommates and to my grandma and my aunt (who sent me the package) about the whole situation. Finally, I called my landlord so he could have someone come by and fix it today.

Wouldn't that be nice if that was the only dumb thing I did? Just wait. It gets better.

Today I got home from work, so of course, I checked the mailbox first thing. Once again, I had a key in my locker with a #2 on it. I turned to stick the key into the lock and realized...

that last night I had stuck the #2 key into the #1 locker. But because it had been so dark, I hadn't realized it.

Oh heavens. I can only imagine what the handyman must have thought when he had to fix locker #1 and key #2 because of some stupid girl in apartment #***. Who has super-human strength apparently.

No one would ever guess that I got a scholarship into a university where I am double majoring and have a 3.7 cumulative GPA.

In fact, I'm even starting to doubt that myself.

appreciation

Remember this post?

I didn't think so. Well now that you've read it again [ahem], you understand.

I am not the typical Mormon girl. I try to be, but when it comes to cute and creative, somehow I just always come up short. One can only hope that for all my weaknesses, I have a few hidden strengths, right? ... I'll take your silence as assent.

Let's take photographers for example. Have you noticed how many awesome photoblogs there are these days? Goodness gracious. Amazing. I am always reminded of how un-artsy and un-creative I am when looking through those pictures. Seriously, they are so creative. I love looking at people's photography. It's one of my favorite past-times. Eye candy, people.

Online scrapbooking. Yet another awesome example. Heck, I can't even scrapbook with real paper, let alone paper in cyberspace! I am always amazed at what people can do with pictures, colors, and seemingly random words that when put together actually convey some sort of meaning. No, not sentences. You know what I mean. Words like: Love, I do, Prince Charming, etc. placed strategically on a page.

Food blogs. Again I am reminded how amazing their food looks and how normal my food looks. Okay, maybe normal is an exaggeration in my favor. Not only does their food taste amazing, but it looks as good as it tastes! People are so talented!

Moral of the Story:

I am so grateful that people create so many incredible things that are so fun for me to look at. Thank you!

...At least I can appreciate it, right? ;)

everyday boredom

You are sitting in class after having already sat through two long classes today.

You check the time on your cell phone. 12:17.

Vaguely you hear the teacher's voice as you stare out the second story windows at the students walking by.

Man they look happy, you think to yourself. And the weather looks beautiful! I've never seen the sky so blue. I wish I could be out there. Hmm I wonder what homework I have tonight...

This snaps you back into reality, and you become aware that the teacher is still talking. Not really knowing what the teacher is talking about anymore, you write down a few phrases, hoping that it will mean something to you when you read it tonight.

You check your watch again. Still 12:17! What the... Oh good, it changed to 12:18. Only 12 more minutes. I can do this.

Finally, the class lets out, and you stuff your notebook in your backpack, throw on your jacket, and speed-walk out the door, down the hall, and out into the fresh air. You're free!

It's then that you realize...you don't have to be anywhere for another three hours. Why were you in such a hurry anyway?

Story of my life.

And you know exactly what I'm talking about.

grace

I went to my new ward on Sunday, and I was pretty excited about it.

As they were passing the water for the sacrament, I tried to grab the tray while simultaneously taking a drink of water.

What actually happened, however, is that while I was grabbing the tray, only two or so drops of water from the cup fell in my mouth while the rest dribbled down my chin and onto my shirt. Now if you'll remember, those water cups are pretty tiny and shouldn't be able to drop much water, right?

Wrong.

At least it looked like a lot of water on my shirt.

Awesome. Good first impression on my new ward.

I guess there's a reason my mother didn't name me Grace.

death mountain

After much introspection and thought during the last several days, it has become apparent to my accelerated intellect that my legs hurt...really bad.

Now okay, I thought I was in relatively good shape. Not great, not fantastic...but good.

I was wrong.

Relatively can mean a lot of different things. Relative to who? To someone who runs a 5K? To someone who eats potato chips all day and never gets off the couch? Yeah, I'm in pretty good shape. How about compared to a marathon runner? A half-marathoner? A 10 kilometer-er? Yeah, I don't stand a chance.

What brought on all this insightful introspection, you may ask?

Well on Monday, a few friends and I hiked Camelback Mountain. For those of you who have never hiked it, I now fondly refer to it as Death Mountain. Um, hello! It's called switchbacks, people. Apparently the makers of this trail had never heard of them. Instead, they put up metal railings so you could pull yourself up the mountain.

Okay, okay...so it wasn't as bad as I'm making it sound (though all the things I've said are true...ahem). I actually got up and down just fine with only a couple of short stops along the way to catch my breath. I'm sure that if I hiked this trail every day, I would be in marvelous shape and never complain again. (Okay fine...probably not possible.)

So why am I complaining so much? Because my legs are complaining. Loudly. They're really rude. Especially my shins and my ankle that I mildly twisted on the way down.

Moral of the Story:

Yeah, you're right. There's really no moral to this story. I'm just complaining.

Other Moral of the Story:

If your legs speak to you, that's probably not a good thing.

Final Moral of the Story:

Get out there and exercise!

Nothing like a good motivational pep-blog to get you pumped.