I'm in Charge of Me.

Once upon a time there was a girl who happened to be an oldest child.

End of story, right? That explains it all? Ha.

Sometimes when you're an oldest child, it's natural to take charge. Isn't it cute how I think I'm in charge of so many things? Goodness. How did I ever make it through this far in life?

Life happens and sometimes it freaks me out when I'm not in charge. Sometimes I feel overwhelmed trying to be in charge of what I'm in charge of. What do I let go of? What do I hold on to? When do I let go? Who? What? When? Where? Why? How? Blah. Blah. Blah.

One thing I know I'm for sure in charge of, is that how I write my own story is my choice. That's why I like this blog. If I can't be in charge of everything in life, I'll at least be in charge of how I tell the story. I can't choose what happens all the time, but I definitely choose what I'll say about it.  I guess that's why journal writing is so important. It tangibly allows me an outlet for fidelity of thought and idea. It makes things more concrete. I make the Happily Ever After. Erica? Girl, you write in your journal... or on this blog.

The End.

Wait. End of story?

Never.

Tomorrow always comes and so does the telling of the story.

*The pic from above is from the movie Neverending Story. Yeah, the movie was great, but the book? A definite adventure worth reading if you take to the fantasy type. If you're more of a thinker, it's a perfect book too. See HERE.

Sometimes When You're Crazy

Sometimes when you're crazy, you experience the most wonderful moments of life. Terror. Delight. Ecstasy, Sadness, Peace, Joy, Anger, Violence, Compassion, etc. You feel them unexpectedly and with intensity. Maybe I'm not crazy but its just life that's crazy and I'm experiencing it... on drugs (the prescription kind, Grandma). Well, nope. I'm pretty sure its me that's the crazy. I used to think that crazy people were "evil" or "bad". Now I know. We're just like the rest of you, but with some extra Sriracha in the mix. That's right. My life has spice (Sriracha kind, not the street drug).

I can experience a variety of emotions so intensely. Like playfulness, sadness, creative flow, humorous comebacks, etc. And yet most of the time, I feel a general affect of anxiety. Even on intense amounts of anti anxiety medication. Is it crazy that I can't get simple tasks done like laundry or grocery shopping? When I do, it takes an intense amount of energy and focus. I can't even get fun things done like read books or sew or embroider. I feel like I have about 100 different thoughts that zip around in the confines of my cluttered brain and while they dart around, I hop up and down trying to catch one that I might take hold and act upon it and yet, as my fingertips brush upon the tip of an idea, it dashes away.

Need a visual? Think Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. Think of when the heroic trio (Harry, Ron, Hermoine) get to the locked door after escaping from the three-headed dog Fluffy. There's those billions of keys flying around above their heads in the rafters. Harry successfully nabs one while swirling around on a broom. Holy smokes. I just figured out the solution to my problem. I need a Nimbus 2000. Now where's a girl to get one? Diagon Alley. Anyone have the directions (and funding) to get there? Road trip!

What it's like to be Brave

Nailed it. 

My gas (heat) doesn't get turned on until Monday so my apartment is freezing.

I felt bad for leaving my little 3.5 lb. dog at home so I toted her around in my jacket while I ran errands.

Took this friendly picture to send to my mom. It was snowing/raining a little with wind so, yeah. 

Now you can see my brave face.

Dear Abby

I think that Dear Abby girl is dead and gone. That's okay. I'd much prefer to hear what you'd have to say.

Points for consideration:

1. Felt a push to come to SLC. A serious push. So I'm here. Job hunting.

2. Got a job that, on paper, should be a hands-down, no questions asked, a dang good deal for me. It's a 40 hour a week job, including benefits, with a salary close enough to match my last one. All I'd have to do is arrange entertainment for old people, tease them, talk to them, and have fun. Director of Activities? Who'd turn that down?

3. I did, and didn't even feel regret about it. Hm. Just not feelin it.

4. Flyin home tomorrow to pack my stuff in a hertz truck and drive it up to an apartment I rented. I payed six months with my retirement savings. Unwise? I'd probably say so.

5. I'm moving up with no job, a tad bit of money, and no definite plan, but you know what? I'm bringing my dog so it's all good. It feels right despite the serious lack of logic and planning that my inside keeps fighting to come to terms with.

6. Good news? Salt Lake, I'm here for you baby.

So after typing it all out, I guess I didn't come up with questions for advice. Okay. Here's one. Do you know where any good nut-houses are at? Cause I jut may call you and ask you for a number before too long. Just kidding. I'm sure more exciting updates will come. It seems that there always are.

End note: Maren, and all other cousins. Come to SLC. Let's get this cousins' house started.

... In a Strange Land

Onto adventures in a strange land. Driving is a completely new experience. People run red lights in the left hand turn lane EVERY time I'm idle at the intersection. Pull that junk in Mesa and you have a photo snapped and a ticket mailed to your home. I guess that game doesn't get played in the SLC.

There are laws and especially unwritten laws I need to learn. Even the traffic flow, parking... everything is so different.

For example

There was a sign that said no parking on a whole street. It's not the widest street so, makes sense, right? Then why were there 50 cars parked along there? So I parked. An hour later I came outside and found this...

How come my car was the only one with a ticket? Bleh.



Later on, I was backing out of a busy parking lot and some lady did so at the same time too (I wasn't in a hurry so don't blame bad driving skills). We barely tapped and she gets out all in a huff. There wasn't a dent on her car, just a tad bit of white on her bumper. I had to look real hard for a mark. This is what my side looked like:

Well, that's what a picture of it looks like in the dark. My cheap phone doesn't have a flash.

Okay. This is what it looks like in the light. Can't really see right? It's just to the right of the white streak of light. A little gray dash. Minimal.

So I say to the lady who's all in a huff, "I'm good if you're good". She's was all "Eh (attitude). This is my husband's car so I don't know. Can I have your phone number so he can call you if he has a problem with it?"

Um, I didn't ask if her husband was going to be good with it and, NO you can't have my number for that reason. Please. That would solve absolutely nothing. Then there was some additional attitude on her part as she tried to explain how she stopped and I was the one that backed into her. I'm prettty sure that's not what happened since I was the one who was 3/4 of the way out and she was still 3/4 of the way still in her spot.

There was barely a mark and there were clearly visible marks from other "incidents". Girl. Don't give me attitude and try to explain to me it's all my fault. We were both at fault, if it was mine at all. Pahlease. Okay. I'll give her a little sympathy. Maybe her husband is a jerk about stuff like that so she was scared, but really. I wish I would have taken a picture so you could see that her husband would never have even noticed. Maybe he would have, but I highly doubt it.

At any rate. She goes on "I wish there was someone here who had seen it".

I reply, "Well there are two guys who are standing there watching us and I'm pretty sure they saw it all. You can go ask them if you're that concerned".

"Huh," she huffed then went and talked to them. When she came back she was sulky but also a little resigned, "The guy is an insurance agent and said it wouldn't even be worth it to go to all the trouble of exchanging numbers, so I guess, whatever."

That's right. Don't mess with me. I have a job to obtain and dwelling to secure and anxiety medication to take tonight, so as my dear wise aunt loves to say, Carry on.

Good news shortly to come.

and stuff...

1. Went and saw The Lion King at Gammage theatre. Rawwr.  

A. Why is the women's line for the bathroom sooooo long that it goes out the door and down the staircase while the men's restroom is not only wide open but has only 5 participants grace it's wide doorway the whole time I stand in line? It was sort of a classy event so I'm sure not too many men made use of bushes outside. Are women's bladders smaller? Hmm.

B. Had an aisle seat so when the characters came singing down the aisle I made eye-contact with a few. Pretty soul-awakening. Such gifts of music are sure witnesses of godliness. When we made eye contact, there was a connection. A soul to soul connection. It gave me serious chills.

2. I have some weird skin disease. 

A.  I find out the lab results in a couple of days but it's probably either strep or staph infection. Really gross. I get sores that ooze a clear yellowy liquid and my skin is loose around the sores. In the meantime, I have to take a "bleach bath" which is half a tub of water combined with half a cup of bleach. Even after a post-bath shower, I smell like a clean toilet. Gross.

B. Here's a picture. 

C. Just kidding. Pictures would be waaaay too much. I feel gross just talking about it.

3. Speaking in church tomorrow on the Atonement of Christ. 

A. I better go figure out what to say? 

B.  Less than 24 hours to go. 

E. After I speak, I'm headin to Salt Lake City to look for a job. Just check things out. Know of anything good?

F.  No more letters. Who's even reading at this point?

G.  Okay. One more. 

H.  Okay. Now I'm done.

I.  Over and out. 

Make it Mayer

Thoughts from last night's concert:

1. "If I was handed a front row ticket would I ditch Shauni for it? Nah. She got me this ticket for my Birthday/Christmas present and this is a togetherness experience." I asked Shauni what she would do if someone handed her a front row ticket. Without hesitation, and with a look of "Isn't it obvious?" she said she'd go for it. 

2. "If I was handed a front row ticket would I ditch Shauni for it? Heck yeah. Loyalty to family experience? Pahlease." 

3. "John's whole new album has a very very folk-country feel. Not what I'm used to. I need to listen to the album a lot more to develop the love. I appreciate the development and exploration his music has taken over the years. This new album was initially a surprise, but in retrospect, not too suprising." 

4. "OF COURSE I bump in to Angela Oliver."

4. "Totally shocked that my favorite performance of the whole night was "Your Body is a Wonderland". Adam said the song makes him sound like a pervert? Def not the vibe I got from it."

5. "I get such disappointed reactions from guys when I say I'm a Mayer fan. The reasons they give for hating him have nothing to do with his music. I listen to his music. I don't follow the details of his life (i.e. stalk him. I don't even read articles about him. I've read one.) Quit being so jealous, men."

6. "Oh yeah, I guess he's definitely easy on the eyes too."

7. "Thanks Shauni for such an opportunity of the divine."

#6

Tonight I found it necessary to peruse this blog for a past post containing pertinent details pertaining to an immediate need of recollection. I left the blog with two inspirations. 


1. I miss blogging. It's sort of like a journal/soapbox that happens to be public but doesn't feel so because I can't see anyone's face as I type which means I jolly-well go ahead and say/post whatever I want. I feel that if I could see other people's faces, I wouldn't change what I'd post, but I'd be more conscious and careful. More restrained. Stuff like THIS, THIS, and THIS definitely wouldn't have seen fruition. The blog affords an unrestrained freedom that the ailment of shyness can't withstand. On the whole, it's basically you, fam, that reads this so I guess there're no worries anyway.


2. I had a past life with hobbies that were abandoned in the reckless panic in the chaos that befell me when the school year began. I think there're 180 days in a school year, yeah? I don't know (What I do know for sure is that there are only 23 left). So we'll say there are 180. Of those days, I blogged 5. That's 5/180. That's 2.7%. Also known in modern academia as "F". Yikes. Yikes.

Creeper

It's late. It's been so long since I've posted for reals. James is a wealth of genius though so I figured we better get this taken care of before it's forgotten. You know how high preservation of documented character ranks of import when keeping future generations in mind...

The best part is at the very end. James puckering up. Ladies...

Oh, Alright.

And the Giant Peach

Shelby was at the grocery store and found James' other half...

Naturally, a photo shoot:

Thanks Shelbs. You're the best!

So Not the Knees

Yesterday night we were out and about having a good time down Main St. See Exhibit A:

Well. We were on our way out, heading back up the street when Shauni grabbed my arm all quiet-sneaky like. "That's Busy Bee Lauren." I didn't get what she said at first but in a split second it clicked. It was not the bees knees. It was the Bee herself. I got so excited I followed her right into the shop she entered. 


Immediately upon entry, I felt all awkward and excited and froze not knowing what to do. Froze. As soon as I came about my wits, I ran outside to the group. She hadn't seen me but, darn it, I wanted to meet her. I made everyone wait till she came out. I had to meet her. I greeted her oober awkwardly. Definitely sounded like a fool. A crazy fool. I didn't care. I got to meet her! She was so gracious and kind. Thanks Lauren for putting up with the awkwardness! 


Who the heck is this Busy Bee I speak of? See Exhibit B:

Yes, that's Tedward standing by her side. Where can you find her blog? See Exhibit C:

HERE

Redefined

Remember that one family reunion when we not only owned the definition of "puke," but took it to a whole new level? Of course you do. We talk about it at every annual family get-together. Barf Fest 1999. Well, I was preparing for a Relief Society lesson this morning and came across this journal entry. Oh how I wish I could have tied it in to the lesson somehow...

July 26, 1999

I’m in the very backseat of the car traveling on the way to Salt Lake City. We are coming from Boise, ID. We just got done with our family reunion a few days ago at Pinetop (Pinetop is a church owned girls camp). It was fun for the most part. What I mean is it was fun until the last night. It all started when I woke up from a deep sleep and there was Bethany standing there looking down at me. I asked her what was wrong and she threw up. Luckily I saw it coming and I moved (She also told me she was going to puke). That’s how it all started. After that I moved by mom and James. Right after I settled, James threw up, then Kevin, Parker, Abby, and Spencer had their turns. That night was my worst nightmare come true. Just smelling it and hearing it made me want to throw up. I hate throwing up. I’m almost afraid of it. I can’t stand it. Maren and Reed went home throwing up that day and the day before.

The picture featured above was taken prior to bedtime that night. Yep, there's sweet, unsuspecting Bethany smiling right beside me. If only I knew the horrors about to unfold. If only she knew. If only all of us knew... about the Kool-Aide, right? Of course, in the passing years, the journaled trauma has transpired into the most endearing, fond reminiscings. Oh guys. I miss you. You're so far away!

I say we're overdue for another reunion at Pinetop, yeah?

What about Romney?

I haven't done much research on candidates for the upcoming presidential election but I did come across some critical decision-making criterion. This man...

has a vacation home in the same spot that this guy...

made his greatest strides using baby steps.

That's right. Mitt Romney has a vacation home on Lake Winnipesaukee. Yeah. If that wouldn't win someone's heartfelt admiration, I don't know what would.

See HERE for the reputable reference.

With Gabe in Mind

Browsing Craigslist this evening and came across...

Ketsup? And the eyes? Yikes.

I'm not sure how to comment on this one above.

The point of this one is that his name is "Uncle Tio". Hm.

No one could ever replace Gabe. Never. He's got to make it to 150.

What? You want some more?! This next gal is James's fav.

The ad is what sells it though:

Rahja is loving, loyal, beautiful 8 yr old Australian Shepherd. She is a dog for a woman or family of majority ladies because she was raised by three women and has proven to only allow women to walk her. she is spayed, house broken, walks well on a leash, trained in basic commands, and will play fetch til you stop throwing the ball. She can maintain extended periods of low energy. So if you knit, sew, or just like to watch movies she will sit next to you and love every minute of it.

Rahja does NOT like fireworks...she digs out and runs every 4th of July that she is not brought inside. Other than that, she has no other behavioral problems.

We would like to rehome her because she isn't getting the attention she deserves with health problems in the family and daughters away from home for extra curricular activities and college.

Willing to drive her up the freeway for the right woman/women to love her.

Here was a headliner that we found invitingly enthusiastic:

and another:

And lastly, an excerpt that was randomly read aloud that sounded a little awkward...

Two-Fer

Today is a Two-fer. Two quotes fer one post. They come from Beauty and the Beast by Nancy Willard and Barry Moser. I love love this version. It's out of print but you can still order it HERE.

"Nothing cures homesickness quicker than an unexplored tower."

"It's odd what pleases us when our fortunes change."

And Then We Sort of Grew Up

Pretty much, this post is for you Shauni. In honor of your birthday, the old old house, and the new old house:

1991

1991

1993

1993

1994

2011

1998

2011

From Chapter One

Started reading The Moon is Down by Steinbeck. I love it already. Here's an excerpt:

He turned to the colonel. "Sir, I am of this people, and yet I don't know what they will do. Perhaps you know. Or maybe it would be different from anything you know or we know. Some people accept appointed leaders and obey them. But my people have elected me. They made me and they can unmake me. Perhaps they will if they think I have gone over to you. I just don't know."

Oooh! I love it.

Oh, Mikhail

I'm really feeling the dance fever lately (Not the Saturday Night kind though). I'm starving for culture. I'd pay $700 dollars for a ticket to see Mikhail. Seriously. I'd have to think a little bit if it got any pricier than that. But yeah. He's delicious.

This last one is a bit... no very dramatic and dark. Nonetheless, I love it. *Note- The timing is off on the clip. Dang it. They dance a little too fast. That's okay. I'll just watch my movie at home and you'll at least get a glimpse of the magnitude of his power. He's such a dream boat.

Oh how I wish my gangly, semi-awkward body could express my inner whole in such a portrayal of divinity and grace as the master Mikhail.

Love me Some Scott and Fran

One of the best dance movies. Ever.