h2ohhh

If any of you are like me, then you like your diet coke fixing.  Or diet whatever.  I enjoy diet coke.  But I really enjoy diet mountain dew code red.  I always feel slightly ridiculous buying it at the grocery store because it seems like a bit of an odd soda choice, but I like it so much that I keep buying it. 

But here's my dilemma.  I know that I shouldn't be drinking near as much diet soda as I do.  But I can't help it.  I've tried to stop.  So many times.  I remember thinking that missionaries weren't allowed to drink soda because the missionaries at home NEVER DID.  And I was even a little sad thinking that when I embarked on my mission I wouldn't be able to have a single sip of diet soda for 18 months.   Not that it was that big of a deal, I got over it pretty quickly.  But you can imagine my delight when at my first meal in the MTC there was a coke soda fountain machine in the cafeteria.  Caffeine free only of course.  I drink caffeine.  A lot of members don't (to each his own) but I guess they like to cater to the masses. 

I try to drink more water.  I really do.  But when the fridge at work is fully stocked with both and I can drink water for free at home, I tend to go for diet coke at work.  The only problem is, is that I still buy diet soda when I go to the grocery store, so I'm also drinking diet soda at home. 

I don't even drink regular soda that often.  It's too sweet.  I'll drink it every now and then, but not very often.  Besides, I'd rather eat my calories than eat them.   

I drink water too.  Just not as much as I should.

I've heard all of the health dangers that come with drinking diet soda.  But you know what?  Cheeseburgers and bacon are bad for your health too.  But they're still delicious and we still eat them.  

I will admit though that I can do my part to drink more water.  So here it is, my pledge to drink more water and less diet soda.   

dear boys

I stumbled across this blog the other day after checking up on my old roommate and friend.

I have a fascination with the blogging community.  I really like when I get inspired, especially to write, when perusing through others thoughts and little ditties.

Here's one that I wanted to have a go at, and besides.  I couldn't resist the cleverly designed corresponding button.





Dear boys,
I hope one day I birth a lot of you.  I want as many boys as possible and as few girls as possible.  Seriously.  Like four boys and two girls.  And I'd really like a boy first.  I've always wanted an older brother, so I figure the next best thing is to give a daughter an older brother.  So keep that in mind.

Dear boys,
Do you know how easy it is for you to look good?  Seriously.  All you have to wear is a nice fitting pair of jeans and something as simple as an equally good fitting plain colored tshirt and BAM.  Looking good.  Girls have to worry about soooo much more.

Dear boys,
As I've mentioned before, black square glasses never hurt anyone.  If I end up dating you my only requirement will be that you never wear your contacts and only your glasses.

Dear boys,
It doesn't take much to impress a girl or make her feel important/special.  Most are pretty simple.  Take out in the park is fine.  I know the Bachelor would tell you otherwise.  That dates must include private helicopter rides overlooking a vast mountain range ending in a picnic with a gourmet meal that you single handedly cooked while simultaneously flying said private helicopter.  But have you noticed the success rate of the Bachelor?  I think you'd have better odds going into business with Donald Trump. 

Dear a boy,
Did you fall in a mine shaft?  Did you just come out of a coma?  Were you attacked by a werewolf?






 

what's a girl to do?

So....
Confession time.
I'm not much of a girly girl.  Like not at all.  I own more chucks and vans than high heels.  I think I own one possibly two dresses.  Four at the very most, but I really only wear one of them, and I've only worn it once.

My daily make up routine consists of mascara.  Sometimes.  And on a really good day, eye shadow.  But let's not get crazy.

I got blind sided the other day and went to a Mary Kay party.  I wanted to crawl into a corner and silently weep because their skin regimen consists of THIRTEEN steps.  THIRTEEN.  Including five eye creams.  I don't know why you'd even use one eye cream (I don't even know what eye cream is, I mean obviously it's lotion for the eyes (or rather the skin around the eyes.....?!??!??!!!) but what purpose does it serve?  Can't that skin be lump summed into the face and therefore face lotion would also work?!) let alone five.  Woof. 

And all of that is BEFORE the foundation and powder and blush and three eye shadows and everything like such as.  Come on. 

I'm sorry, but I'd rather sleep an extra hour and I'd rather put that money aside for a house mortgage.  And just forget about transporting all of that makeup around in a make up trunk on wheels, because we all know how I feel about rollie backpacks. 

I've only recently ventured in to the world of earrings and nail painting.  I still feel a little awkward doing it.  Like it's not really me, ya know?

I have some friends and old roommates that totally rock the glammed up look.  Everything possible including big poofy hair, because you know what they say.  The bigger the hair, the closer to God. 

But that's them, and they look good.   I feel like if I were to go out in heels and teased hair and big flashy jewelry people would run in sheer terror.

But why do those things have to define femininity? 

Now, I wouldn't say I'm a tom boy either.  I don't love sports.  I'll play, but I'm not going to promise mad skillz.  I also think that I still can't quite pull off every look on this web site, but it seems to fit me and my personality much more.

So maybe I can't rock heels and a little black dress.  But rather skinny jeans, vans and a plaid shirt.  While still managing to look like a girl.

Did you know that I'm in love/obsessed with plaid?  Serisouly.  It's ridiculous.

I'm a sucker for boys that pull off plaid.  I'd be 100% done for if you wear plaid, a good pair of jeans, shoes of your choice (preferably something in the sneaker family. Vans, chucks, etc.) and black square glasses.  If you speak Spanish, then there really is no hope for m

free flying

There’s something about being in nature, and I don’t just mean outside at the park. Although that’s enjoyable as well. I mean completely away from the city and void of any distraction. You and the solitude and nothing else. Not even other people. It’s something incredible. I dare to say amazing. But not in the way everyone exhausts the word to describe every cookie ever baked or every cupcake ever frosted. Not that kind of amazing. Truly amazing. As in to astonish greatly. Sure, I love cookies and cupcakes as much as the next person, but I wouldn’t go as far to say they astonish me.

Nature, on the other hand. Now that’s a different story. Not just nature, but all that lives and dwells within. Every creature great and small. To think that they were each created by the literal (another word I don’t use lightly. Have you heard how I feel about that word?) hand of a Divine being.

I don’t have too many passions. There are a lot of things that I’m interested in and plenty of things that I use my time to participate in. But I don’t have one great passion. I suppose one day that might change. You know, when I have a family and all. I guess it’s because I’m kind of an easy going person and fairly neutral. Not that easy going people can’t have passions. I don’t tend to take sides, rather I look for the truth on both. Or if you take a side it means you aren’t easy going. I think I simply lack whatever emotion is connected to true a single passion. I don’t think my words adequately describe what I’m thinking, but at least I know what I’m trying to say.

However, one thing I find myself particularly drawn to lately and perhaps even passionate about are birds. They’re incredible. At times I find myself wishing I possessed their capabilities. The ability to fly. I love watching that moment when a bird is about to take flight. They ruffle their feathers, as if mentally preparing themselves for each flight. Telling themselves “I am capable and I am strong. I can do this.” Upon completion, they push down to gain momentum and then soar away. In an instant. In one swift and beautiful movement. I love that moment when their feet press down and then almost simultaneously lift off the ground. They quickly move from one phase to the next. Trusting their instinct all the while.

Or to sing a happy song. There’s nothing quite like a calm and quiet morning. Accompanied by the comforting melody of a sweet songbird. It’s as if they are welcoming all the potential of a brand new day. Anxiously awaiting new opportunities that lie in store.

I love Maya Angelou’s poem “I know why the caged bird sings” and how closely it relates to human existence. The caged bird is fully aware of their capabilities yet outside forces prohibit them. Outside forces that are outside of their control that ground them. While the caged bird is grounded, they are forced to watch their peers around them. Fluttering by freely without a care in the world. Perhaps taking advantage of the capabilities and freedom they possess.

How unlike them are we? I venture to say not very. I know in my life I have found myself on both sides. Maybe even at the same time. I let outside forces get me down.

The part that touches me the most is the very end. Her words are beautifully written that paint such a clear picture.

But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams
his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing

The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom.

Maya Angelou

But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams. I can't even imagine being in that position. To look down at the headstone marked with “Find joy. Be happy. Start an eternal family.” would be a nightmare in every sense of the word. All my greatest hopes are dead. Never to come to pass. Never to spring forth and have life.

His wings are clipped. Void of all potential. Meanwhile suffering with the vision of what could have been.

For the caged bird sings of freedom. Their greatest hope is to rid themselves of all things grounding. Whether self imposed or not. To be free and fly above the influence.

Oh. And if Harry Potter were real and I was a wizard, I totally hope my patronus would be a bird.

perma-kid

Although my last post was all about entering the fancy world of becoming an adult, I've learned along the way that I still have a lot of kid tendencies. Not that I'm childish and immature. I take responsibility where responsibility is required. But sometimes you just can't help but find joy in the simple things in life. Even if they are typically enjoyed by kids.

A lot of my kid at heart tendencies revolve around my sense of humor. There are still some things that I know I shouldn't laugh at but I just can't help it. Sometimes I'm even shaking I'm trying not to laugh.

Like when I worked at the elementary school and a kids new year's resolutions were "to fart, show off and fart again". Talk about setting the bar high. But come on. How is that not funny? Maybe I'm a perma-teenage boy instead of a perma-kid.

From time to time I've been known to enjoy teenie bopper music. If one were to browse my running playlist they may or may not find songs from the musical stylings of Miley Cyrus, Justin Bieber and the Jonas Brothers. Maybe. I'm not saying yes, and I'm not saying no.

On occasion, I watch the Disney channel. Well not super recently, but more recently than I'd like to admit. Hannah Montana is pretty sassy, and I always like it when people aren't afraid to speak their mind. As long as it's not rude, malicious or back biting.

I can't let go of my ridiculous beanie baby collection. They're all packed away and stored somewhere at my house in Minnesota, but throwing them away or donating them seems like I'm saying goodbye to my childhood memories forever. Just like Andy in Toy Story. Although it had a happier twist, some new kids were able to enjoy the toys he had so lovingly cherished and cared for. I think I like the idea that maybe one day my kids will want to play with them and it will also save them an umpteen amount of money because they won't have to spend all of theirs on silly things like I did. But when you're a kid, it's not silly. It's a product of your hard earned allowance after doing chores all week.

It seems like just yesterday the biggest thing I had to worry about was whether I should spend my summer days riding bikes, reading or swimming at the pool. It's easy to get stuck in the grind of the work week and begrudgingly living for the weekends. I think we could all benefit from holding on to the simplicity of childhood for as long as we can.

how to tell if you're an adult.

A few months ago I graduated and entered the real world. I'm only now starting to realize what that really means. And I'm sure it's only a minute percentage of total understanding. I haven't even experienced marriage or having kids or things that only further secure adulthood.

So far, these are some surefire signs that I'm dipping my toes into adulthood.

1. Bills, bills, bills.

Because of the benevolence of my very gracious parents, I've avoided a substantial amount of bills up until this point in my life. Not to mention that all of the apartments I've lived in beforehand included utilities in rent (PS Rexburg, outside in the real world, nowhere includes utilities and comes furnished. It's very gracious of you, but it's quite a slap in the face when one starts apartment hunting in the real world). But now my money has to go towards things like water, gas, electricity, etc. I really think twice now before I leave the room and every single light in it turned on.

2. I find myself wanting to save for things like a COUCH. I went to Ikea the other day to buy a rug (what have I turned in to?!) and found myself drooling over this absolutely divine couch. It would be a pretty big purchase, but I figure, what a better time than now to buy one? Or at least save to buy one. I don't have a husband or any kids and my bills are minimal. I might as well buy something now before my future family starts to suck up all of my money.

I used to save for things like ipods and cameras. Now I'm saving for home furnishings.

3. Sales on things like hand soap. I went to Target today and soap was on sale. SOAP. Two giant things of it for $5. I was thrilled. I feel like that screams nothing but lame.

4. I splurged the other day and bought two new footstools (excuse me, ottomans. My friends looked at me like I had suddenly grown a third arm out of my head when I used the word footstool instead). But I'm in love with them. They're gray. And perfect.

It seems like lists should always be in increments of 5. Maybe it's the OCD talking. But unfortunately I can only come up with four. For now. Stay tuned.

let's get fly.

I've realized lately that my blog doesn't have a very consistent tone. Usually I'll focus a post on a specific topic, but other times they're random thoughts that sometimes relate to current updates in my life. I guess that's why this is my blog. I can do whatever I please. And haters gonna hate.

I love this song. I crank it up whenever I go running. And it's by Atmosphere, and they hail from Minnesota. Enough said.

I love the line "empty the pack and watch your wings grow back".

Without sounding totally angsty, sometimes at the end of the day life sucks. Bad things happen to good people. And I don't know why, but I do know that all we can do is shake it off and go on to what's next. Because odds are it's something a whole lot better.