tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-69957400917315161982024-03-13T20:04:36.786-07:00A Witty MessβItβs yet another in a long series of diversions at an attempt to avoid responsibility.β β Chris Knight (Real Genius)Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00973952411546982591noreply@blogger.comBlogger80125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6995740091731516198.post-54969855930283881052011-10-10T19:25:00.000-07:002011-10-10T19:25:19.705-07:00The End Draweth Nigh<div style="text-align: center;">Well, with less than 40 hours to go (HOLY CRAP!) I suppose it is time to consider what to do with this blog...I do enjoy having a place to vent my crap so I think I'll keep it. Do I make it private? That seems like an awful lot of work. I think I just won't mention it to him and see how long it takes him to remember that I started this and then go find it.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">As for me. I feel great actually. I thought I'd be freaking out and be a total wreck by this point in the game, but I'm really not. Excited? Yes. Anxious? Very....but not freaking out. Not pulling out my hair, not over/under eating (anymore), and not bursting into tears at all. My sleep has suffered though. My brain seems to enjoy attacking me the second I get into bed...So I'm pretty exhausted but that has a perfectly good reason: Lack of sleep. If I had to put it into one word, I guess I'd say I'm happy.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">:)</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00973952411546982591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6995740091731516198.post-9351344780557096832011-10-01T17:34:00.000-07:002011-10-01T17:34:21.802-07:00Milestone #10: Holy Milestone of Milestones!10 more days of his mission.<br />
<br />
11 until he is home.<br />
<br />
If that is not a milestone then I don't know what is.<br />
<br />
So in preparation and, of course, in distraction, I have begun the process of totally gutting my room and cleaning/scrubbing/de-cluttering everything that I can....Consequently, this means that my room <i><b>looks</b></i> way worse than it did <b><i>before</i></b> I started "cleaning". I bought decorative stuff. It only took me a year of living here. New blankets and sheets, new shower curtain and bath mat, threw away all those shoes under my bed that I havent worn in 3 years and now the <i><b>real</b></i> work of vacuuming, scrubbing, mopping, and wiping is about to begin...<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_NYZV8Akzq4/ToexfBoLQGI/AAAAAAAAATw/BgMnsmoMex0/s1600/aNewimige.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_NYZV8Akzq4/ToexfBoLQGI/AAAAAAAAATw/BgMnsmoMex0/s320/aNewimige.jpg" width="230" /></a></div><br />
<br />
And here I am, updating my blog from the living room with my bedroom door closed so I can pretend it's not a black hole of disgusting-ness. Because I'm exhausted and totally burnt out. Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00973952411546982591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6995740091731516198.post-51716340247668644212011-09-28T19:00:00.000-07:002011-10-01T17:42:04.677-07:00Love It.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/EJZBOPwSI8U?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00973952411546982591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6995740091731516198.post-58427078146159205872011-07-28T01:00:00.000-07:002011-07-28T01:00:15.643-07:00Something Happy, Something Peppy, Something Snappy<div style="text-align: center;">Too much doom and gloom in this here blog. Time for a happy post because I really am happy. I swear!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I have <b><i>amazing</i></b> friends.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Like, seriously. I do NOT deserve these awesome people in my life. I am so incredibly grateful for them, now that my family is gone, more than ever. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"> I love "my boys" and I am thankful for being able to have the priesthood living in the next building. That is the closest it has ever been for me. We have family scripture time and then pwn n00bs faces off (ok THEY do that, I just try to keep up) and that is totally awesome. I love having brothers. I love that they build me up and make me feel good about myself, but somehow make me want to be better at the same time and that I am TOTALLY OK with that. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I love my roomie for putting up with the fact that I can't tell when something is dirty, for letting me (or encouraging me) to feel feelings without making me feel vulnerable, and for our "no judgie roomie time". I love her for being happy even when she is not, and for being so dang beautiful that I am reminded to put on decent clothes and makeup when we go out if I don't want to be confused with a night troll while standing next to her.</div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><div style="text-align: center;"> I love my best friend because she is everything I am not and reminds me why I really should kinda sorta TRY to be a good person every once in a while. I love her because she knows me well enough that I don't have to explain my weirdness, and because she makes bitchin' cupcakes. I love her because it isn't work to hang out together or to run errands. Also she doesn't destroy us with words when her fiance and I go off the deep end word vomiting at each other.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I love Jordan (duh.) Simply put, because I don't know where I'd be or what I'd be doing without him. Even if the romantic relationship doesn't work out in 2.5 months, I know that he will still always be one of the best friends I've ever had.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">There are at least 10 more people I can think of off the top of my head who have seriously saved my sorry butt at one time or another, but I was supposed to go to bed 2 hours ago... </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Bottom Line: I am blessed more than I could ever deserve through the love and support of others. There is no other explanation possible to me. </div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00973952411546982591noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6995740091731516198.post-32741577040908649762011-07-28T00:26:00.000-07:002011-07-28T00:26:56.257-07:00Le SaboteurSo I have this problem (weird right? I NEVER talk about my problems here...) I have taken the art of self sabotage to a whole new level. I've been thinking about a lot of complex things over the last few weeks. Hope. Emotion. The future. Sabotage. In doing so I've realized a lot of ugly things about myself. Things I'd like to change but I'm honestly not too sure how I'd even start going about it. I believe the root of it all is the fact that I have 0 hope for myself. But that is not what this post is about. This post is about my breakthrough that I had in my brain earlier today that I'd like to immortalize here. Partially so I can look back and remind myself, and partially so that at least the people who read it know that I know it is a problem and I'm working on it...<br />
<br />
I self sabotage. I self sabotage to the point where my 10 inch mole-hill of possible achievements turns into a 40 foot crater in the middle of opposite-of-goals-ville. This is becoming more and more apparent to me as the time ticks down til Jordan gets home. I am SO terrified about the unknown of it all that I have to restrain myself-sometimes physically- from being a complete idiot and ruining everything I've worked for. I couldn't understand why it was suddenly so hard to just be a good person like I have been trying to be for a while now...Then I got really honest with myself and realized what the deep recesses of my psyche was feeling. If you aren't really trying then you aren't really losing anything if it doesn't work out. It's not failing if I didn't REALLY try, it was just something that happened, not like I care or anything because I mean I didn't even TRY. Of course I'm not losing any weight, I'm not even REALLY trying, I'm sure if I did it would work...maybe. But if I try my hardest and then fail anyway...well that is worse than just staying the same. Most of all it is this: When I sabotage myself and thereby make myself completely unlovable and insure without a doubt that there is no way he'll want me...well then there is no need to wait and worry about it his decision, I took control of the situation and took away the fear of the unknown. Seriously, how effed up is THAT? I'm starting to think I really need therapy.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00973952411546982591noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6995740091731516198.post-958795279666729892011-07-19T22:57:00.000-07:002011-07-19T22:57:59.547-07:00Best FriendHave you ever been in love? Horrible isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens up your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defenses, you build up a whole suit of armor, so that nothing can hurt you, and then one stupid person, no different than any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life...You give them a piece of you. They didn't ask for it. They did something dumb one day, like kiss you or smile at you, and then your life isn't your own anymore. Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so a simple phrase like 'maybe we should just be friends' turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart. It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It's a soul hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain. I hate love.<br />
<br />
---Neil GaimanAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00973952411546982591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6995740091731516198.post-27893549881334031892011-04-20T20:44:00.000-07:002011-04-20T20:45:30.788-07:00I love this song.There is no video, but everyone should listen to it :)<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><object class="BLOGGER-youtube-video" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0" data-thumbnail-src="http://0.gvt0.com/vi/oM_al1-UeBA/0.jpg" height="266" width="320"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/oM_al1-UeBA&fs=1&source=uds" /><param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF" /><embed width="320" height="266" src="http://www.youtube.com/v/oM_al1-UeBA&fs=1&source=uds" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"></embed></object></div><br />
And here are the lyrics for those too lazy to google it:<br />
<br />
<br />
won't you let me give you a hand<br />
i have an extra I'm not using<br />
won't you let me lighten your load<br />
i mean after all your legs are shaking<br />
<br />
and i can understand<br />
all i need is your hand<br />
oh won't you take the fall<br />
it is me after all<br />
<br />
won't you let me match your stride<br />
i can slow down if you want to<br />
we can handle it side by side<br />
what do you say girl don't you want to<br />
<br />
and i can understand<br />
all i need is your hand<br />
oh won't you take the fall<br />
it is me after all<br />
<br />
I'd be lying<br />
if i ran away<br />
I'd be lying<br />
if i ran another way<br />
<br />
and so I'll stay<br />
<br />
but won't you let me be your man<br />
I'm strong enough you know that i can<br />
be the one to ease your mind<br />
ease your mind<br />
<br />
and i can understand<br />
all i need is your hand<br />
oh won't you take the fall<br />
it is is me after all<br />
<br />
I'd be lying<br />
if i ran another way<br />
I'd be lying<br />
if i ran another way<br />
and so I'll stay<br />
<br />
won't you let me give you a hand<br />
i have an extra I'm not using<br />
won't you let me lighten your load<br />
i mean after all your legs are shaking<br />
<br />
and i can understand<br />
all i need is your hand<br />
oh won't you take the fall<br />
it is me after all<br />
[x2]<br />
<br />
there's not much that you can do<br />
to get me to run away from you<br />
[x6]<br />
<br />
I'd be lying<br />
if i ran away<br />
I'd be lying<br />
if i ran another awayAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00973952411546982591noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6995740091731516198.post-90165846676559530562011-04-11T23:00:00.000-07:002011-04-12T00:10:01.341-07:00...ka-boom<div style="text-align: center;">Officially 6 months left as of today.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Thus begins my nightly panic attacks brought on by my excessive worrying.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00973952411546982591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6995740091731516198.post-23715217582191693072011-04-05T22:34:00.000-07:002011-04-05T22:34:09.035-07:00Love Drunk<div style="text-align: center;">Well, its happened...only 6 months til Jordan comes home and I just couldn't wait any longer...</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I couldn't help it, I tried so very hard to resist..</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">But I'm in love.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">And I think Jordan will understand, because he knew that this man and I had a thing going on before Jordan left. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">And I'm fully back in love.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bDyvB3wWrvI/TZv0L4z7_aI/AAAAAAAAARo/WEeagLHagTQ/s1600/lee_pace_99.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bDyvB3wWrvI/TZv0L4z7_aI/AAAAAAAAARo/WEeagLHagTQ/s320/lee_pace_99.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Lee Pace. </div><div style="text-align: center;">AKA: Ned the Piemaker</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">As you may have guessed I have recently re-watched "Pushing Daisies" the short-lived but all together wonderful show that brought Lee Pace in to my life. I watched it episode by episode before but somehow forgot its magic until right now.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Seriously. IN LOVE.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I mean LOOK at this man! </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-meTFoZv4l6g/TZv2pRsgrmI/AAAAAAAAARw/bIdF9wAsScs/s1600/lee_pace_06.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-meTFoZv4l6g/TZv2pRsgrmI/AAAAAAAAARw/bIdF9wAsScs/s320/lee_pace_06.jpg" width="221" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-FVqcmU5hpl0/TZv6JFqgCZI/AAAAAAAAASA/tY4c5I6veqw/s1600/003-500x375.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-FVqcmU5hpl0/TZv6JFqgCZI/AAAAAAAAASA/tY4c5I6veqw/s320/003-500x375.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">He makes the most adorable faces I've ever seen.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-h19P1kjqgV4/TZv6KQ-EuOI/AAAAAAAAASE/7GIKblZn0IE/s1600/eye-candy-lee-pace-14.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-h19P1kjqgV4/TZv6KQ-EuOI/AAAAAAAAASE/7GIKblZn0IE/s320/eye-candy-lee-pace-14.jpg" width="225" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iuKWjaQNXUI/TZv6LVfMn6I/AAAAAAAAASI/l5zk-aiuuGk/s1600/eye-candy-lee-pace-16.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iuKWjaQNXUI/TZv6LVfMn6I/AAAAAAAAASI/l5zk-aiuuGk/s320/eye-candy-lee-pace-16.jpg" width="206" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Eo16VTUmQs8/TZv6MsJrp4I/AAAAAAAAASM/BY6w6JmSC4U/s1600/eye-candy-lee-pace-21.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Eo16VTUmQs8/TZv6MsJrp4I/AAAAAAAAASM/BY6w6JmSC4U/s320/eye-candy-lee-pace-21.jpg" width="286" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-MSfLqio8HEs/TZv2rr1SmuI/AAAAAAAAAR4/l6xshx50n70/s1600/lee-pace.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-MSfLqio8HEs/TZv2rr1SmuI/AAAAAAAAAR4/l6xshx50n70/s320/lee-pace.jpg" width="236" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">And he has a dog!! </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TVL__5lLCzU/TZv2sf7-s7I/AAAAAAAAAR8/zpL5GOrqA1M/s1600/leepace_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TVL__5lLCzU/TZv2sf7-s7I/AAAAAAAAAR8/zpL5GOrqA1M/s320/leepace_1.jpg" width="229" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xQizl2OPxGc/TZv0xkOd_MI/AAAAAAAAARs/_yPwYlADLkc/s1600/lee_pace_97.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xQizl2OPxGc/TZv0xkOd_MI/AAAAAAAAARs/_yPwYlADLkc/s320/lee_pace_97.jpg" width="222" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">And yes, <i>OBVIOUSLY</i> I have a type...</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">and that type is tall, skinny, ruggedly nerdy awkwardness. I get this. BUT check out THIS picture:</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xT6d1naCMgE/TZv2qgtgSgI/AAAAAAAAAR0/u-W9IF0-NfU/s1600/lee-pace-the-fall1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="164" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xT6d1naCMgE/TZv2qgtgSgI/AAAAAAAAAR0/u-W9IF0-NfU/s320/lee-pace-the-fall1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"></div><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><u><b><i>RIGHT?!?!</i></b></u></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I mean come on...guy liner and guns? not my thing...but look how effing sexy he is.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">oh the things I'd do to you Lee Pace.... you'd love every minute of it.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">...i think my loneliness may finally be hitting the point where I hit the wall o' crazy</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00973952411546982591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6995740091731516198.post-85741980894981724562011-04-03T02:06:00.000-07:002011-04-03T02:06:43.075-07:00Emotional Decoder Ring<div style="text-align: center;">I have feelings. I swear, I really do. But for some reason there is a disconnect between my feelings inside and my outward appearance/actions/words. This goes for good and bad feelings. I have no problem being honest I can SAY what I feel but its probably not going to match up with all of my nonverbal signals which usually makes people think I'm lying when I'm really just a robot. I'm not so sure where this disconnect came from. It wasn't always this way. I used to be able to express all kinds of feelings and emotions in my actions and behavior. But somewhere along the way (I'm guessing around year 19) I realized that emotions make you vulnerable and easily manipulated. I still believe this, but sometimes I do miss FEELING. The only person who has made me feel since then is now...away...and I don't just miss him, I miss the feelings I was suddenly allowed to have. I may have cried more in those 14 months than I had in the past 5 years but it felt good to experience what was going on inside my body...</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Allow me to clarify: Sometimes I feel...something.... this something isn't fleeting or caused by any specific event, it just IS and it is my displeasure to simply deal with it. I'm not sure what it is. It is a tightness, and anxiety building up in my chest. An all encompassing <i>ickiness</i> that I can not describe, control, release or suffocate further. Sometimes I think I must need to cry...so I try but that doesn't work. So I think that maybe I need to laugh...after doing that I still haven't found relief. Then I think that maybe I'm angry about something but I can't think of what it is that I should be angry at and so I have nowhere to direct my anger so any attempt at anger doesn't yield satisfaction. Now, usually I eventually I fizzle out or get distracted enough to forget but it always comes back...However this time it is the worst it has ever been. I feel like an explosive set to blow as soon as the fuse it lit but unfortunately I have no idea where the flame is going to come from. If I knew what would release this <i>pressure</i> I think I'd pull a bomb squad move on myself and set the dang thing off in a contained and safe environment in order to prevent any civilian casualties. But no, here I sit at 2AM (did I mention that this <i>feeling</i> makes relaxation and therefore comfort impossible making sleep impossible?) searching for something to either set me off or diffuse me entirely. I'd take a lobotomy or open heart surgery at this point. I pulled out my box of letters and cards and earrings and a dried flower hoping that a flood of memories might help, but it didn't. I've tried several movies of the chick flick variety to no avail. I have looked at EVERY picture I have, and reread every letter. I'm out of ideas and my insides absolutely refuse to give up their secrets. I can feel it, I know its there, I can even make out the carvings on the outside of the case which holds this deadly bomb...But the carvings are written in some symbolic language that just feels like jibberish to me. So this story has no ending, because now, at the end of this blog...</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I still don't feel better and that secret code still is not broken.</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00973952411546982591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6995740091731516198.post-37169159819272959752011-03-27T19:05:00.000-07:002011-03-27T19:05:22.971-07:00Writing A Missionary is Delicate Business<i>What I want to say: " PLEASE COME HOME RIGHT NOW. I <b>NEED</b> YOU. My brain, soul, and heart broke the day you left and I haven't been the same ever since. I've gotten better, I've learned how to cope, most people may even consider this as being "normal" but I do <b>not</b> </i><i>feel normal."</i><br />
<br />
What I say: "I am doing OK, just working and hanging out with friends like always. How are you?<br />
<br />
<i>What I want to say: "Some nights I wake up in a panic because I have dreams that make me think that I'll never be good enough for you. Actually, I <b>KNOW</b> I'll never be good enough for you and I'm terrified that you're going to come back in 6 months and know that about me too."</i><br />
<br />
What I say: "Haven't been getting much sleep, but hey, life goes on right? :)"<br />
<br />
<i>What I want to say: "It's been a year and a half and still when things get bad, when I need someone to care or someone to just let me cry, when I've had a bad day, when I need a distraction, even if I just want to be lazy and do nothing <b>WITH</b></i><i> someone it's you I want to talk to or see or hug or just be around and it kills me. I miss someone else knowing exactly what I've been through that day because they were getting the text message play by play. I miss not having to explain my feelings because you just know. I miss having someone who doesn't <b>NEED</b> to understand they just need to be there. I've never missed a voice as much as I miss yours."</i><br />
<br />
What I say: "It'll be great to be able to talk to you like a normal person again some day."<br />
<br />
<i>What I want to say: "I am glad that you chose to do this, but I effing <b>HATE</b> this. I hate that you're 8 hours away but you might as well be on the moon. I hate that I forget how I feel about you some days because it gets hard and then I have to remember and feel guilty about forgetting even though you're the one who isn't here. I hate that I'm single but I'm not. I hate that I can't even blame you for that, because it's my choice even though in my heart I feel like you did this to me when you made me fall for you. I hate that no one says good morning or good night to me. I hate having to learn patience. I hate all the time that has to go by before I get any sort of hope. I hate that this is just how it is going to be and I am supposed to accept that. I hate that I hate all this. Most of all I hate how I can't tell you any of this. I don't want to make you trunkie, that's true, but also because even if I did tell you then you'd just tell me to stop doing it if I hate it so much, and that's even more annoying because you're technically right. But what else am I supposed to do?"</i><br />
<br />
What I say: "I'm gad you like the package. Your companion seems like a good guy, and it is good to hear that you're having such good luck out there. You're amazing, I'm so happy for you!!! :)" <br />
<br />
<br />
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00973952411546982591noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6995740091731516198.post-8619809978104586552011-03-27T01:44:00.000-07:002011-03-27T01:44:32.710-07:00Unknown DiagnosisThis has been a strange week. I've been distracted, totally unconcerned with anything (in a bad way), and I'm pretty sure I'm losing my ability to be excited about anything anymore. Here is a list of my symptoms:<br />
<br />
1. Insomnia (10 hours of sleep a week is not enough)<br />
2. Antsy (can't sit still, even when not sitting still I still feel like I need out of my skin.)<br />
3. Feeling Like I Need Out Of My Skin (That's not OK, it is there for a reason)<br />
4. Nightmares For The Brief Moments I Am Sleeping (Miss my REM cycles!)<br />
5. Feeling Worthless<br />
6. Feeling Hopeless<br />
7. Feeling Lonely (the "in a crowded room" kind of feeling lonely)<br />
8. Spending An Entire Day In Bed<br />
9. Reaching Out To People/Things That <i><b>I KNOW</b></i> Will Not Help Me<br />
10. Apathy (Worse than regular apathy...the stuff that even <i><b>I</b></i> used to care about I suddenly don't anymore)<br />
<br />
Someone diagnose me and give me a pill so I can go back to feeling like myself again. Please?Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00973952411546982591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6995740091731516198.post-71924520461004594962011-03-27T01:38:00.000-07:002011-03-27T01:38:50.043-07:00Milestone #9: 199 Days Left<div style="text-align: center;">That means its officially LESS than 200. Can't let that one go by.</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00973952411546982591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6995740091731516198.post-12765907283963439632011-03-07T23:30:00.000-08:002011-03-07T23:30:55.380-08:00BEHOLD!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwUI9mLAI1JvR--FgceJz9NWlmC2F77sP4h_AhMkPz7Mu3PomEJLw-owEq098coddrM8-7moLwfuqdLGpyEMQ' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div style="text-align: center;">"The Cutest Bunny In Creation"...her name is Scantron. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">How she came to live in my room is another story for another day. Lets just say that it wasn't my idea.</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00973952411546982591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6995740091731516198.post-12767232900989800632011-03-06T04:41:00.000-08:002011-03-06T04:41:28.197-08:00Apparently, I LOVE to torture myself...<div style="text-align: center;">and also because it has been 515 days since I've experienced anything like this:</div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">I Youtubed "Best Kisses"</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">This one was a good one. Enjoy. :-)</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="390" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/LlN1ewCdYZY" title="YouTube video player" width="480"></iframe>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00973952411546982591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6995740091731516198.post-90195756766397960682011-03-01T21:55:00.000-08:002011-03-01T21:55:05.792-08:00A Shallow MomentToday, for the first time in a long time. I felt UGLY. I realize Ive never been a hot hottie. But on a regular basis I could say that how I looked didn't drive me into a deep depression. Then I was thinking about the girl back in October 2009 and realized that compared to her...<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><br />
I'm old. Ragged. Frumpy. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">and just all together unattractive.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">This isn't a weight thing. I mean, losing a few...hundred...pounds wouldn't hurt, I'm just saying in general...my face. uck. I must start using moisturizer or something because this is getting bad. I don't mind if I'm the same when Jordan get back...I just don't want to look...<i><b>worse</b></i>. blech.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00973952411546982591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6995740091731516198.post-679186036124244862011-02-27T02:05:00.000-08:002011-02-27T02:05:20.924-08:00Bawl My Freaking Eyes OutSeriously. Every time.<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="390" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/uSMlIM9zLio" title="YouTube video player" width="480"></iframe>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00973952411546982591noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6995740091731516198.post-49911057335330495272011-02-05T00:42:00.000-08:002011-02-24T19:08:49.161-08:00inspiration and revelationSide Note: This one has been in my "drafts" since November.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">In talking about finding my husband, my patriarchal blessing it says: </div><div style="text-align: left;"><blockquote>"The Lord will bless you with <i>Inspiration <b>and</b> revelation </i>to know the person whom you should marry.<i>"</i> </blockquote>I recieved my blessing when I was 13. I never notices that there were two words there...I always glazed over it wanting to go to the sentence where it actually SAYS we will get married. (which it doesn't, by the way, it just says that I'll meet him and I'll know its right and he'll be worthy to take me to the temple...some say that is splitting hairs to which I reply "do you even KNOW me at all?") In any rate, I was in the temple doing baptisms a while ago and it hit me that there are two words here. It also hit me that the Lord wouldn't put two words in there that mean the same thing. If there are two words, they mean TWO SEPERATE CONCEPTS. Being in the temple, I had no internet or dictionary to work with, but I did have something much better- a room full of awesome people feeling spiritual highs. I asked the guy next to me...I can't remember who it was...but I asked him: "Hey, do you know the difference between <i>inspiration </i>and<i> revelation?" "</i>Yeah" he said, "Um...well...I know they're different..." and then he did something that had me feeling a serious "no DUH" moment. He turned to a member of the temple presidency who happened in on our session an asked HIM the question.<br />
<br />
The Presidency member looked at me puzzled. I explained to him that the phrase is used in my patriarchal blessing and I was just trying to understand it better. He smiled at me and explained, and his explanation totally revamped how I saw my blessing. I'd always thought that sentence meant that I'd know who I should marry through the holy spirit..but again, it straight up says that a little later so why is it phrased this way? Because inspiration and revelation are two totally different things. This is how it was explained to me: Revelation is the feeling, the knowledge that is given to you through prayer or fasting or by straight up divine intervention. But <i>INSPIRATION</i> is the feeling that makes you want to DO SOMETHING with it. I receive revelation that the prophet is a man of God, and therefore I am inspired to listen to what he says and then actually do it. An artist receives a mental picture in their head-what they want to do, and the feeling that follows is their inspiration, the drive to actually put it to paper and make it happen because they know what they want. Inspiration makes you<i><b> do</b></i> something.<br />
<br />
I didn't press the man in the temple any further, as it took him explaining it a few ways for me to fully grasp it (I can be dense sometimes), but my next question was going to be: "How does this fit into context with my finding a husband?" "How can I be inspired to know whom I should marry?" Unfortunately I still have no answer- my best guess is that I will be inspired to do things that I wouldn't normally do, that knowing I should marry him will be enough to motivate me to work for it. That I won't just KNOW and then get discouraged or let it slip away when it starts getting hard. That I wont do what I always do when I have a goal or a thought and just decide it's not practical and that I should let it go. That Heavenly Father will bless me with gumption when I have nothing left to give. That He'll make me a fighter. Or this could all just be romantic babble that will come back to haunt me/kick me in the butt later. Does anyone else have some insight I'm not seeing? Am I totally missing the point here?</div><blockquote><blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Unfortunately there is only one way to find out... </div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00973952411546982591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6995740091731516198.post-82000681679421368742011-02-04T18:01:00.000-08:002011-02-05T01:02:38.121-08:00Milestone #8: 250 Days Left<div style="text-align: center;">...yup...</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Not much else to say about that but I felt like it needed to be commemorated. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: red;"><3</span></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00973952411546982591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6995740091731516198.post-40640436259322998582011-01-09T01:56:00.000-08:002011-01-09T01:56:37.076-08:00I Really Do Hate Being a Girl...<div style="text-align: center;">So...totally over it. Those last two posts can be disregarded as a combination of stress, insecurity, bad communication and hormones. Any two of those things would end in an outburst but I was lucky enough to feel all of them simultaneously. Jordan was able to write and explain some things and I feel better...I considered deleting the posts but then I figured anyone who was going to read them already has by now and also its not like i didn't feel what I felt. I did feel it, just not anymore.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Because I'm a stupid girl after all.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">.... </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Which sounds like a rejected Disney ride theme song.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">....</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Who knew?</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00973952411546982591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6995740091731516198.post-74422129943348635992011-01-02T03:10:00.000-08:002011-01-09T01:57:30.421-08:00Update<div style="text-align: center;">Less angry. More hurt. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Less motivated (didn't write a letter this week). More confused (not sure why, as I'm not mad, just nothing to say).</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Less willing to believe in the fairy tell. More likely to give my old cynical self a revival.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">On the brighter side though, 2010 is <i>finally</i> over and 2011 is here to make me feel better...Also I bought a pink dress that makes my boobs look "normal sized" so that's pretty freakin' awesome, considering...</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Ok, New Year. Let's see whatcha got for me :)</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!</b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00973952411546982591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6995740091731516198.post-43344547723398325012010-12-25T20:03:00.000-08:002011-10-10T19:34:06.350-07:00DOAYou know the expression "beating a dead horse"? I feel like I'm giving the horse mouth-to-mouth, the whole time thinking that maybe the next breath will be that one...and how am I ever going to know if I don't try just one more last breath? This is a living breathing THING, this is something I once loved and hope to love forever. I know I should give up and I know I look like the biggest idiot on the planet flailing and wishing and working as hard as I do to keep it just on the verge of alive....Someone needs to put ME out of my misery. Someone call it. Tell me the time of death and tell me its ok to let it die, because its no good loving something that doesn't love you back enough to breathe.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00973952411546982591noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6995740091731516198.post-73793997085618459762010-12-08T23:48:00.000-08:002010-12-08T23:48:51.010-08:00Further proof that I am, in fact, mentally ill<div style="text-align: center;">I was considering my future the other day, which is usually a fearful time for me, so I try not to do it often. I literally feel myself start thinking ahead and then, in order to distract myself, I will make a funny noise out loud or sing a song to stop thinking about it...it's THAT frightening to me sometimes. Anyway, so I allowed myself to think about it for the first time in...I'd say a year or so....and something even more frightening occurred...I wasn't frightened at all. Disturbed by this (Am I REALLY so far gone that scary things don't even illicit emotion in me anymore?!) I thought up worst possible scenarios in order to jolt myself into a sense of being human....And it didn't work. I thought: "What if Jordan doesn't love me anymore?" to which I answered "You'll still live, you didn't deserve him anyway"....not in depresso tones, just matter-of-fact like. Finding myself still unmoved I tried more drastic inner dialog: "What if ALL your friends get married before you do and you have no one to do things with anymore?" my sullen answer to myself: "Don't be stupid, you know you like being alone, you are social on purpose to keep yourself out of your own head...see you're even talking to yourself now." "good point." I responded. Still weird-ed out that I wasn't scared or worried or anything I threw out all the stops and said to myself: "Self, what if you NEVER get married; like at all, to anyone, ever?" My response? "Think of all the freedoms you'll have! Never any pressure to reproduce, no one to bug you when you just want to be alone, no one to be responsible to if you just decide like ditching work or church one day...Shoot you may even get to tour the whole world because you wont have to match up vacation times or feel guilty for leaving someone behind! I think you'd be good as a lifetime bachelorette."</div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">So yeah, there's that.</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00973952411546982591noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6995740091731516198.post-41660702435856620762010-11-21T00:00:00.000-08:002010-11-21T00:00:03.883-08:00Note to Self: No Guarantees<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="body">"There are <b>no guarantees</b>. From the viewpoint of <i>fear,</i> none are strong enough. From the viewpoint of <i>love</i>, none are necessary.</span> "<br />
<span class="bodybold"> -Emmanuel Teney</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="bodybold"> </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="bodybold">Life is <i><b>scary</b></i> sometimes.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="bodybold">People let will let you down and disappoint you.*</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="bodybold">But there will be some who build you up and help you take on all the opposition of the world. *</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="bodybold">Choose to fear people, or love people. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="bodybold"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="bodybold"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="bodybold"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">*Paraphrased from my patriarchal blessing so this isn't just my paranoia talking people</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="bodybold"> </span></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00973952411546982591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6995740091731516198.post-46621582150418894112010-11-20T01:50:00.000-08:002010-11-20T01:50:22.595-08:00Choosing to VerbRecently I've been thinking a lot about choices. After much thinking I've come to the decision that the things that people think are inherent qualities or personality traits or feelings you can't help are, for the most part, choices. Then I started thinking "how can I choose to have a personality trait or a quality if its just inside me?" The answer is that there are VERY few things that ONLY happen inside your head. For the most part, every thought, inner monologue and CHOICE effects our personalities and our actions towards other people. For example:<br />
<br />
Love<br />
This is the one everyone talks about. "Love is a verb" is what they always say. You don't just feel love, love inspires you to do things you wouldn't normally do when you're not feeling it. This is all true, but because it effects your behavior it is also a CHOICE. I can feel the butterflies, the exhilaration, the agony, and the all encompassing whirlwind that love has to offer...but only after I give in. You don't HAVE to love anyone. True, sometimes it feels like it because there is so much crap bursting inside you that if you don't admit to it you feel as if you'll explode...but you probably wont. Its that admission, the giving in, the (in my case) "oh fine already I guess I love him now leave me alone so I can turn my life upside-down even though it makes NO sense" decision. Its a decision to give up what is logical for what is emotional. Giving up reason for instinct. Choosing to ignore your fears and focus on your giddiness. Love is a force you use to act, not a force acting upon you.<br />
<br />
Friendship<br />
This is an interesting one. It has a lot in common with love but its slightly different. Friendship is another verb, it is a relationship, and all relationships are active, living, breathing things...until you forget to feed/water/potty them and they die a withering death like your old tomagatchi in 6th grade. In my opinion, friendships take more time, more work. Friendship comes from your choice to be around someone who you have fun being around. I personally think that Brandon Flowers and I would get along great, we have the same beliefs, the same taste in music, and I'm sure a million other things in common (wishful thinking)..but he isn't my friend. Unfortunately, we've never met, let alone spend time together. So no friendship exists based solely on my belief that there SHOULD be one. He has to choose to be friends with me too. <br />
<br />
Faith<br />
Its believing in something without seeing it. But more than just a belief, faith gives us the motivation to live our lives in a certain way. Without faith we'd all go to bed terrified that we might not wake up in the morning-which I sometimes do anyway- but the remainder of the population isn't as paranoid as me and believes with all their hearts that the sun will be back in a few hours and their lives will have some sort of order that they can predict. No one is forcing us to believe that, we do it because we choose to, because going to bed every night wondering if you'll ever see the sun again seems like a waste of time and emotional energy when its come up every morning before. We choose to have faith in the things that we believe. No one can implant faith into you, you have to make the decision to not only allow it to be resident in your heart and mind, but to let that faith dictate your actions in the world.<br />
<br />
Happiness<br />
It's more than just finding a pencil (Broadway reference). Happiness, like love, sometimes defies all logic and reason. This is because it is another choice. I'm not saying that outside sources don't have any effect on a person's happiness. They do. I'm pretty sure that no one has lived their entire lives without having a bad day or surviving a bout of depression, its the human condition. What I am saying is that happiness is how we can choose to react to those outside sources. Its not an easy choice when bad things are happening, when it feels like your world is crumbling around you the last thing you want to do is put on a big smile and laugh it off. Yet somehow, people seem to do it. Somehow people are able to forget that their boss just yelled at them for something they didn't do, and remember that awesome toy they're gonna buy when they get paid. Happiness is a choice, and a choice you have to WORK to keep up, but isn't that what everyone is searching for? I guess not, I guess REALLY people are looking for happiness without having to do anything to get it, but that is just not how the things happen. And to quote Elle Woods: "Happy people just don't kill their husbands..."Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00973952411546982591noreply@blogger.com0