In all seriousness, though. I'm relieved. I don't want to be that person who distances themselves from the people who should be most important! That's just not right. Today, I got to spend most of the entire day hanging out in Disneyland with my mother, my older sister and her family (husband and three kids). I also had loads of fun with an old high school friend who is going to school real close nearby (get to know her here).
I realized halfway through the day, that it made me kinda frowny inside to think that at the end of the day I wouldn't be hopping in a car with my mom and staying in some hotel room with her, or going home with her. We'd be going our separate ways...again.
I was sad! It was like that moment in Enchanted when Giselle gets super excited because she feels angry and she becomes this total freaky bipolar woman of weirdness...and then she fingers McDreamy's chest hair and it's super awkward.
I was just excited I was sad (no chest hair). I wasn't devastated, but I was, like I said, "frowny inside".
So that was a pretty little happy lightbulb moment. Huzzah.
But!
[insert sound of pure happiness]
We went and saw World of Color. Not in the bestest spot one could hope for, but you could still see most of what was going on and I CANNOT EXPRESS TO YOU WHAT I EXPERIENCED. I simply cannot. I'm not kidding when I say barely a minute into it I was tearing up from complete and utter joy. I'm pretty sure the fantastic speaker system with the fabulous soundtrack ringing in my ears is what set me off.
But still.
There were tears. Like, 5 separate times. I'd tear up and be all emotional and the scene would end, and something new would start up and I'd be fine, dancing around and laughing and yelling "OH MY GOSH THIS IS TOO COOL FOR ME TO HANDLE!" with this short fat woman looking around her shoulder like I was poking her in the back of the neck with a squid tentacle dripping in chocolate (the face you're making, that's about what she looked like). But then it would hit me again and I'd be holding my face and crying. I was a mess of pure happy.
At the end my mom hugs me from the side and says, "I'm so glad I got to be here and watch you enjoy this. You made it much more entertaining."
I told you. For some reason they love my imposing over-reactions. Whatever /shrug
I'm pretty much going to go back every time I have a spare moment around 8 in the evening and figure out how to see it from the very, very front. Because I'm obsessed and perusing iTunes for the soundtrack as we speak (...er, as I type....).
I walked across the hall to the teeny tiny rec room we've got here in the apartment building. I'm not even joking you, it's right across the hall. Like, open our front door and stare at the other door across the hall. So basically, I have no excuse whatsoever to not get my lazy butt off the couch and spend at least half an hour in there.
And I did! Today, I did. I got up and went. I tried to remember stuff from my pilates class from senior year and, well, pretty much failed. But I did sweat....a little.
Annnd that filled up my productive quota for the day. Except for I still might walk on over to CVS and scout out some more black socks. Cuz uhhhhpparently my job calls for black socks, not white. Like the 7 pairs I bought before arriving. Well boo. If they're not there then I'm gonna have fun figuring out how to get to the Walmart that's too far away to walk.
I would be a boss and walk there, I assure you, but both my mother and my boyfriend would have things to say about that, due to recent events such as Creepers Galore.
I don't wanna die just yet. Thanks.
So I watched about 3 episodes...I guess it was more like 5 (ahem, seven), of Prison Break. The newest best show of my life.
You probably don't know it but I'm an obnoxious person to watch movies with. Seriously, annoying. I can't seem to just "aww" or "gasp" like a normal human being. All the socially acceptable audible reactions end up building up in my limbs and all of a sudden I've got tourette's. I physically flail and spasm. Something cute happens and I writhe on the couch like there's a squirrel in my bra. There's an intense time crunch and apparently I shot Monster straight into my veins, jittering and twitching. I really don't understand how people stand it. My friends seem to think it's funny, cute and/or admirable. Admirable? Yeah. It's one of those qualities my boyfriend mentioned he liked about me....
Hey, I'm not complaining. If it makes him smile when I squeal and shake the couch as the hero jumps from the dock onto the boat where the damsel in distress is being hijacked away by the dastardly villain, then woo-hoo! We're set for life x]
Anway.
Prison Break.
It's kind of the worst I've ever been. And nobody who knows me is around to laugh at it and I feel really stupid. They did much too good of a job developing these characters because I have never been more attached to a fictional storyline...that took place a few years back!
Speaking of tv shows. I don't know if I can live 5 months with the shows my roommates watch.
Keeping Up With the Kardashians; If I WANTED to watch sisters whine and purposely turn their lives into a Soap Opera I would go. home. Mkay? Grow up and get out of the tabloids. Seriously.
Jersey Shore; I--I have no words. I really don't. Except those...no words.
Scrubs; Yeah, nope. Not funny. Dumb. Grey's Anatomy all the way, baby.
And now there's this "tosh.o" thing that's on and I am appalled. It is the stupidest thing I have ever witnessed.
First of all, you smell worse than me and I been stuffed away, down deep in the giant stinky belly of the happiest place on earth. When they say 'happy' they ain't referring to the kitchen, lemme tell ya. You, sir, smell quite like a dead cat that tromped through pickles and a pool of sweat before rotting for a while.
Secondly, you are guaranteed at least ten years older than me.
Thirdly, there is obviously something not all there in your brain which is how we got in this conversation in the first place....
And fourth? We're at a bus stop. The bus stop.
And so, due to all of the above-- NO you can't have my number. No matter how many times you ask, sorry.
True story. Got to the bus this evening, around 2330 (aka 11:30) to find out the very next bus comes at 0012 (aka 12:12). Oh goody. Well, let's just sit on down and talk to these other college program kids who are just as tired and grumpy....
Oh, this poor guy. Stuck in a wheelchair and lookin' so dirty...sad...oh, wait....he's coming over....don't make eye contact! Don't do it!
guuh. You did.
"Hi."
heeeere we go
I would in fact talk to him again, if the situation were to reciprocate itself. The guy obviously doesn't get a lot of people who are willing to talk to him. I'm sure he gets lonely and it's not like he was begging for money or anything. Just wheelin' around, mumbling to himself and occasionally saying 'hi'. So I figured I'd give him a smile and some small-talk....
Me: Hey!
Dude: You from Disneyland?
[Note-- due to what I'm guessing is a past head injury, hinted by the helmet covering his head, his speech is kinda slurred and I was never really sure what he was saying...]
Me: Uh, Disney...? Yeah, I work there....
Dude: Oh...[blabbers on asking about where I am in the park, whose dishes I wash and if I know his cousin Bob]
Dude: Are you married?
Me: [laughs] No, no I'm not...
Dude: You have boyfriend?
Me: Yes...(thank my freaking lucky stars, YES!)
Dude: That's sad.
o.O
Me: Sad? Why?
[unintelligible muttering]
Dude: Can I have your phone? To...to talk sometimes?
Me: Um, I'm sorry?
[I was honestly too shocked to answer correctly]
Dude: Can I call you every once in awhile? To talk? I don't talk to females very often....
[maybe we should broaden that to "humans"]
Me: uhh, no. I'm sorry, no I can't do that....
[I will not lie to you, my first urge was to say yes. The poor guy!]
Dude: Why not??
(/sigh, why do I get myself in these situations....)
Me: Well, because...because I don't know you!
Dude:....we can't get to know each other on the phone? In a couple weeks?
He did not stop. One CP girl actually got up and left because she was so uncomfortable. Um, excuse me?? You're uncomfortable? He hasn't even glanced at you! He's all but sat in my lap at this point! And there's still 15 minutes till the bus is supposed to show up.
Boooo and a half.
He eventually got the point and kinda drifted away back behind the bench and carried on a very active conversation with his right hand.
The bus came and I am now blogging to you so life is good :)
It could've been worse.
I mean it. The other girls who actually stayed with me at the bus stop told me about a girl they heard about, who rode the bus home around 1 am by herself and when she got off a man followed her out as well.
Hey, people live around here, no big deal.
But he followed her...and followed her. There comes a point when there ain't no way the creeper is just walkin' that way for their health.
She started runnin'.
He kept following.
She ended up basically closing the building doors in his face because he was that hardcore stalker.
I would be sobbing, not even gunna lie to you. I would cry.
I'm so glad for 911 and boyfriend on speed-dial. And for prayers. Those are very nice for feeling better.
The Hunt for Hope is going well, btw :) update on that later. For now, sleep sounds like a good idea....yeah. Sounds good.
SO! In other news, other than my life-shattering realization that I'm not done figuring out who I am....(darn it).
I just read an essay that was re-posted onto a blog that was linked to facebook by a friend. One of those posts I would normally just kinda skim over and not really see. But I saw it, this time.
I'm sorry about the language, but the point is extremely important.
There are women out there, perfectly beautiful and inspiring and intelligent women who happen to just have a higher percentage of fat on their bodies than others. They are no different from anyone else, they're just "fat". They weigh more. They step on a scale and they simply weigh more.
And what kind of message are they receiving?
"You should consider yourself LUCKY that some man finds a hideous troll like yourself rape-able."
That's not paraphrasing people. That's a quote. From a comment on a blog. A real life situation of a woman being raped and nearly killed, telling her story and receiving that in return.
I am honestly mortified at the level of worm our society has stooped to. How did it come to this? How are there so many movements for equality and fairness and yet "fat" women are being subjected to this complete, blatant abuse!?
Oh, it makes me livid!!
I'd practically go lesbian and love them myself if I thought it would make a difference.
Boo and a freaking half.
I should be making my lunch right now. But I don't know what I want to eat....sigh.
OH! The day has arrived! :D
Remember my whole scrambled-eggs fiasco? No? K, memory helper here...
Anyway, I successfully fried an edible plate of scrambled eggs this morning! I cannot tell you what a pick-me-up that was. Which sounds super silly, "Scrambled eggs made me want to cry in happiness..." just sounds pathetic and dumb.
Which it probably is.
But to me, in this state I've found myself, that is something Hope can do; she can cook. eggs.
WIN.
I think I may end up writing down a checklist of admirable qualities I'm finding that I do truly possess as an individual. Let it be written that cooking eggs be the first of those qualities to come forth. Woot :)
I am seriously shallow; "Not exhibiting, requiring, or capable of serious thought". There are so many things I decided about my life that are exactly that....not requiring serious thought.
I really thought I knew who I was. I also thought I liked who I was.
But now, here, nearly 400 miles away from every surrounding wall I'd built in my head, I'm stripped down and bare for examination. The verdict isn't good.
I was someone who absorbed what was in the immediate area and molded their character to that situation. It worked for me.
It always had.
On those cutesy little surveys people do on blogs and social network sites it asks, "What color crayon would you be?" I've always thought of myself as that crayon that got broken, the paper wrapping ripped or simply slipped off and all the other crayons marked and dented up, till it looked like a melted scrap of multi-colored wax. i didn't think anything was necessarily wrong with that, either. I liked it just fine.
I was a "one size fits all" person.
For a long time.
And I'm here to tell you that it's extremely tiring. A tired you don't feel in your muscles, your bones or your head. A tired that becomes you, you are tired. Tired is living.
It's no way to live.
So now, I'm reviewing some very basic character traits and realizing how insufferably shallow I've gotten. How fake I've allowed myself to become; no, forced myself to become.
I'm going to be very honest with all you out there who read these words. It's not brave for me to put this out there, it's petty and silly. I should just reform myself and work it out on my own. But I can't find my journal and I know I'll want these thoughts for later.
I sincerely miss all of 3 people. Three. None of them are related to me. I have 506 facebook friends. I move away for 5 months and I miss 3 people.
My mom calls and I have nothing to say to her. It's like I'm talking to that neighbor lady your mom made you walk down the street and drink lemonade with because she gets lonely. There is a silence in my head when she asks how I'm doing.
It will seem bizarre to you, but I'm shallow about piano. I've told Mark I can't stand electric pianos. I don't like how they sound, I don't like how they feel, how they play; I don't like them. And at this moment I would give anything for one in my lap. I couldn't bring myself to use an inferior form of instrument because it dampened my 'talent'. I cannot tell you how ugly I feel inside saying those words. That I care so much about appearing 'talented'.
I am so very unsure about marriage. I'm so unsure it's terrifying. Sometimes, it feels like the only reason I want to marry Mark is to ensure that I'm the one making him happy. Which doesn't sound all that wrong, but it could be. And it's the 'could' that jabs a hole in my happy bucket of positive.
I've never been more alone in my life out here, living in an apartment with 4 other girls. 3 vegetarian/vegans, 1 lesbian, 1 black...my room is full of potentially dangerous PC situations and I have no basis of opinion to anchor myself upon. I don't know how I feel on all these...these social terms. I don't even know what to call them.
I know what my dad thinks of them, what some outspoken opinionated friends think, I know what my religion says about things but all I feel is apathy.
And I'm not just talking about my roommates. That's just an example of the mess my life is in. I'm trying to put the puzzle together while the pieces whoosh down the drain into the running garbage disposal. I can't catch up.
And I'm shallow.
Ashamed of it, and wishing I was different.
Wishing I was memorable.
Wishing I had qualities that weren't peeled off of someone else and haphazardly slapped on my arm like bumper stickers.
I'm 20 years, 8 months and 7 days old; I don't want to be finding myself now.
I've never really paid much attention to that saying, "Big Brother is watching". It's never meant anything to me.
But now? Big Brother is Mickey Mouse and somehow that seems worse than the government OR God.
Let me clarify; God loves me and I can work for his forgiveness. Mickey Mouse doesn't know me from a penny on the ground so if I screw this up, IT'S THE END.
So, not saying Mickey is more powerful than God, the situation is just a bit harsher. Of course, I'm not going to literally go to outer darkness if I get fired from Disneyland BUT speaking in the relativity of the sort of actions I myself am capable of....well, you get what I'm saying. And if you don't I have no other way to say this without making it sound even more terrible and blasphemous and sacrilegious. So I'm done with that.
I just realized last night as I was furiously scrubbing the gunk off of every piece of metal that ended up in my hands that I really don't want to get fired. But there's also a lot of complicated procedures and specific things that I'm supposed to remember and do down there in the kitchen. So naturally I'm worried about doing something wrong, or not well enough, or especially notfast enough. That worries me a lot.
I just don't want "Mickey Mouse", aka the company that embodies that character, to be disappointed in me. I wanna fill out these 5 or so months to the best of my abilities and leave having shown that I can be successful...in a kitchen.
Sigh.
Being the bottom of the barrel is totally not glamorous.
But the perks sure are!! :D
I get excited and my face does things. Ugly things.
That right there is my first ever completely FREE ticket into Disneyland. That's worth $105...it's ok, you can be jealous.
Ok, seriously right now. Am I the only one that finds this disturbing and suggestive? Or is my mind just way too in the gutter and dirty......
I'm slowly beginning to suspect that Moose are my favorite animals along with otters.....
Small World ride. Never again.
A) if I were beautiful and B) if I were skinny and C) if I were graceful...and confident....(and black, I guess) that would be me x]
I love Disneyland. I practically cried during orientation and they showed us presentations with video speeches given by Walt himself talking about his beloved creation and I was filled with such pride to be part of this.
The dishes on which you eat your food are clean because of ME! I am important!
I have to keep telling myself that to feel better about kitchen duty. Sigh.
Bones is tonight??! I just saw that on the tv that is constantly on in our apartment o.O NO one is here but me and the tv is on. If I knew how to turn it off I would.
But bones is starting again?!? HUZZAH!! :D I've missed it. Oh hulu the love of my life, we shall have good times together again.
Anyway, Farmers Market time for me! Toodle-pip and cheerio!
Be forewarned: there will be segments of this blogpost that are not kind on the ears...I had a pretty disgusting weekend.
Today is Thursday. I got here a week from yesterday. I feel like I should be going home soon. This is not good.
See, I was counting on the magic of Disneyland and the excitement of independence and all the new, wholesome freshness of it all to distract me and make at least the first few weeks to maybe a month go by really nice and quickly....but twas not to be.
Wednesday, Thursday and Friday did live up to those expectations. Those were great. Saturday was ehhh, ok.
SUNDAY WAS HELL.
Which is totally ironic.
I'm not quite sure what caused it but Sunday night I had the worst case of food poisoning I have ever gone through. E-ver. I've had food poisoning plenty of times so I know what it feels like. The sudden realization and conviction that you will vomit soon so it's just a matter of kneeling at the toilet, holding your hair and waiting. The slight relief just after but then drinking water you know will just come back up in a few minutes and waiting.
Always waiting.
Feeling your heart start pumping in your head. Feeling your temperature spike up. Heaving into the place everyone sticks their butts. Shivering afterwards.
I hate it.
But this last time, this was the "that one french phrase that means winner of stupidness" of them all (I seriously cannot think how that's supposed to go...stupid french).
It really was terrible. I was up for five hours straight, in and out of the bathroom. Near the end it got so bad I was just sitting there on the toilet with a trash can in my lap, because there wasn't enough time to switch positions (sorry, I just need to rant about it so you're the lucky receiver). Oh, and did I mention I had just started my period? Hm, are those cramps or indigestion? I dunno, I'll just go vomit a bunch.
The only (and I mean ONLY) boon to all of this was boyfriend's graveyard shift. He was there on gmail (er...G+ for him) the entire time. I even took him in onto the bathroom floor with me at one point, sobbing silently because I just wanted to go home. As long as I was gonna be sick I might as well be home and sick so at least I'd feel more comfortable. FOUR days and I already wanted to pack my bags and hightail it back to the desert.
He was fantastic. Metaphorically, he held my hair. He kept me together...what was left of me to keep together, that is. I kinda sorta maybe love him.
Eventually, he went home from work a little after 6 and I was slowly drifting to sleep as my stomach realized it couldn't heave itself out my esophagus and calmed down a bit. That night I had my first shift of work for seven and a half hours stuck in the main kitchen were all the smelly-smells from about three different main restaurants ends up mixed with the putrid smell of cleaning. And all I wanted to do was lay down and die.
Worst night of my life.
BUT! The next day, after I felt better and had slept for a solid seven hours monday night, I realized how enjoyable this job could be. The smell still gets to me and I don't think that'll go away but the juxtaposition between monday and tuesday was enough to give me the confidence that I could make it through this till January.
I texted boyfriend about it and he texted back, "Good outlook! :D I hope you can keep doing that when we're married and remind me to think like that too, lol"
and then a couple minutes later, "It's one reason I love you :)"
That little transaction made up for a lot of the misery endured.
So anyway, now I'm super paranoid about making myself food and don't know what caused me to get so sick but crossing fingers that it doesn't happen again. Sick is no fun.
Firstly; OH MAMA, I am beat! Best night of sleep of my life, here I come. And it's only 8:30. Which is okay, because I'll take forever to post and then I hafta get past sleeping around people (whom I don't know and thus they don't know me and THUSLY I'm scared to fall asleep and do something strange...it's inevitable), not to mention I'm supposed to look nice for my ID photo by 9 am...HAH! They realize they're saying this to a bunch of college kids, correct? Yes? Okay, whatever. It's your baby.
I haven't even set foot in the actual park yet and disney quotes/movie scenes are flipping through my mind like japanese acrobats.
(there I go again. Probably inaccurate, totally-unqualified-to-make analogies)
These have been two very long days. I feel like the drive up here was a week ago. It was yesterday. Not even 48 hours ago. More like...gosh, 37? Something, I dunno.
Oh. So. My car, Morgan. She's a beautiful blue Nissan Rogue ('08) and I love her to death. Done a world of good for me.
But!
Apparently, packing her to the gills and attempting 75 mph on the boiling hot freeway of Arizona August is just NOT her cup of tea.
She was like, "OH. That's how you wanna go? Fine. NO AC FOR YOU!"
And she meant business.
My mom slowed to about 50 after we had stopped and put some water in the, um...radiator bottle thing (woot being car-stoopid). Even then, if the road was on a slight, the slightest incline the air would pop off. Which, you'd think going out to the coast would mean lots of downhill but honestly, the AC was off for at least half of the entire trip.
Again. American. Someone find me the neon sign, I need it right above my head.
But we got here and it was fine. We stayed in the Residence Inn that is seriously, backyard disney. I basically watched the nighttime fireworks (cuz there are daytime fireworks, Hope??) from my room. I wanted to blog but, uhparrently, no wi-fi for Marriot guests o.O
Silly.
I am such a fan of California cloudy mornings. I'm not a "gray depresses me" person. I'm a "GRAY IS THE BEST COLOR OF MY LIFE!" person, with heel clicks and happy dances to boot. We'll see how I feel by the end of the year. Maybe it'll change (maaaaybe not).
Check-in was a lot easier and much less stressful than I had anticipated. I even got in early. Like, waay early. I was scheduled for 10 and got in line at, oh, about 8:45. No big deal. Literally, they were like, "Yes! Of course, that's totally fine!"
I think it's required to talk in exclamation points if you work for Mickey Mouse. I dunno, some sort of universal rule.
Insurance went fine, employment eligibility went fine, banking went fine. God blessed me with a smooth entry to my internship :)
And an LDS girl right next door so I'll have a church buddy right there :) God bless...Him. God. I guess I'm just supposed to be grateful.
Now, I love you people, but remember me mentioning the 'tired' part? Yes, well, um please love me back and don't be upset that I'm not gonna spend the time or energy to figure out which pictures I wanna put in here. Just go click on my facebook badge. They're ALL there.
All in all, this is looking to be the most wonderful decision I've ever managed to make and pull off and hopefully I can wrangle a success outta this endeavor.
That would be stupendous.
But I really miss some special people :) You know who you are (I actually do hate it when other people say that. "You know who you are"--really? What if I don't? Am I supposed to know? Maybe I'm just dumb....and then it's like that open door that leads me to fake myself out into thinking someone else cares about me a whole lot more than I do...)
But srsly. Miss you :) <3
I'll have better stories later. Once I actually start doing something x]
Coming Soon! To a blog near you...
"Call me Mrs. Disney"
There'll be pictures and [maybe] funny stories and real, actual feelings! :D get excited.
But now, I has to do lots more events and meetings and real world learning experiences that I'm slightly worried I'm not actually prepared for....but more of that later!
Blogging in the kitchen :) This is gonna end up like those sex-fantasies, imagining the strangest place you could "get it on" with a significant other (or not-so-significant, I'm no judge) except it's blogging.
A lot less intimate.
For some. Like me, for instance. Whatever! I don't know what I'm saying anymore.
Blaaaaaah.
Today, I got SO restless. So I wanted to eat something. But our microwave broke and is now missing so there's this big vacant hole in our kitchen cupboard-ry. So there was no way to heat up any of the leftovers without being some sort of kitchen-wizard and use smarts and whip up a genius plan for using the oven to reheat the chicken strips and tortillas and have a super-yummy wrap like I wanted.
So I didn't eat.
I'm such an American.
Except not. This is a marvelous country and I'm so blessed to be born here and live here where I have so many rights and freedoms...
that are constantly being taken advantage of by stupid people who don't have any sense of integrity. I'm not ashamed of the country and the original values that were dreamt up by our founding fathers.
I'm ashamed of the people who choose to deface everything right about America by being complete and utter idiots.
But!
I'm no politician, nor do I debate (...ever) so done talking about that.
NOW, I'm making mac'n'cheese with hotdogs.
(American? What? nooooo)
I don't think I did it right though. I probably put the hotdogs in too late so now they're not going to boil for long enough and my noodles are gonna be a mushy pile of yuck.
Boo.
--Just kidding. Spooned it out and it tastes pretty darn gooooood. I'm the master of completely screwing up a simple recipe (I mean, c'mon. Mac'n'cheese??) but turning out with a perfectly edible plate of deliciousness :)
Believe it or not, I actually come on here with a point.
I'm a musician. Music is THE essence of my life. Honestly, it's what keeps me legitimately sane. I know I'm weird and have moments where others in the vicinity really wonder and doubt in my sanity. But I'm not men-in-white-coats, lock-her-up crazy. Just...odd.
Anyway. I've played piano for more than half my life. 13 years this fall and I'll be 21 in december. Piano is my baby. My heart and my soul. I'm a music major but I chose Harp as my main instrument because I didn't want piano ruined for me.
Piano is what I do for me. A gift to myself, if you will. Selfish? Yes, but I need it.
But, in all my years of piano-ing, I've never really gotten into Chopin. It's a love-hate relationship. His music is absolutely beautiful and inspiring, but the thing is I just simply can't sight-read it. And that's what I do. I sight-read. So I don't play Chopin. Cuz I'm lazy.
So today I sat myself down and made a deal with myself. I was gonna get over this stupid Chopin and I was gonna learn myself a song!
So I flipped open to Nocturne in D-flat Major (Op. 27 No. 2)...it went pretty well, all things considered (woot cadenza's that are 5 octaves away from your left hand xP). But once I finished I wanted to hear how it was supposed to sound, so I brought the laptop downstairs to youtube it and watch the music at the piano....
I about cried. Because it's gorgeous and basically I feel like there's no hope for me to ever get it that smooth and effortless. Plus I don't have the jellyfish arms. I can't do that almost interpretive dancing from the bench thing pianists seem to love. When I try, I end up hitting my forehead on the fall (the part that covers the keys when you're done playing). I guess it's something you can't try and do, ya just feel it. But I don't...feel it that way.
In any case, it was very demotivational. Firstly, I'm terr-i-ble at memorizing. It just doesn't happen for me. Secondly, my muscle memory is slightly on the poor side so it's not like I can run those cadenzas over and over and they'll suddenly stick and flow right out like a beautiful melodic river of love. and Thirdly?
I'm lazy, remember?
So.
Boo to that, too.
Mostly, I'm sad at myself for not resolving to do this earlier before I'm about to stinking leave and not have easy access to a 9-foot grand piano till next stinking year!
So! Moral of the story is; don't wait. Work on your dream now. It's scary and you feel like you might fail, but it's like everyone always says.
You'll never know unless you try. The best way to get anything done is to start now. I know it's easy to say, "I'll start next week" cuz then it'll be convenient. But how much easier will it be to do that thing next week if you've been doing it since today?
Exactly.
I know.
I'm a genius.
Whatever.
I'mma go eat my mac'n'cheese now cuz it's getting cold and it's hard to type with a fork in your mouth, piercing the roof of your mouth.
Yeah, never doin' that one again....I was totally right when I said it would be terribly idiotic going back through that last post there. In retrospect, I hardly remember typing that.
But hey. I was 'drunk' ;)
Now I have [most of] my IQ back so I'm...completely blank. It's like unless I'm mentally incapacitated I have nothing, of any interest whatsoever, floating around in this cranium of mine. How silly is that?
My room's definitely starting to look like I'm actually leaving or something.
For one thing; I actually made my bed. Like, for realz. With sheets and everything. I'm that person that kinda just spreads out a comfy, cushy quilt on top of the mattress and sleeps with a little baby blanket on top of it all. Never really been 'pro-sheets'. If that's a thing. I wouldn't know. Cuz I'm not.
But now there's sheets. And they're striped. Light blue, light purple, light green and this random really light teeny blue strip right before the same colors but more vibrant. Very easter-y. I'm glad my mom's all super-mom about me leaving and just randomly went out and bought me a new bed set thingmajigger.
It's a sham, though.
Says so right on the packaging! 1 bedskirt, 1 comforter, flat/fitted sheet, 1 pillow case and a sham! So I dunno what's gonna happen when I finally open it. Some sort of leprechaun cheat must pop out and sham away mattress.
Unbelievable how blatant people are these days. Outright announcing it's a sham. Tsk tsk.
I would include a picture but my camera pulled another one of his perfect, timely stunts where he disappears just before I plan on taking him on some big expedition. Stupid.
Moving on.
...to what, dear self?
Erm...I dunno, we could talk about boyfriend.
Sure. The same-old, same-old story about how he's so cute, and he's so special and we're so in love and life is fantastic and rainbows, bubbles and butterflies and...
Okay! I get it! Sheesh, you're all mushy, too. Don't push that all on me.
Well perhaps think of the poor reader and give them a break this time.
Fine, but at least give me an idea of something to ramble about....
Penguins?! What?? I don't even...go away. You're no help.
Whatever. You'll wish I was here later.
Sometimes, the voice in my head is a snobby british person.Other times it's exactly how I hear myself sound. Then in random moments it's a voice that doesn't even have a sound. Just a flow of words on a projector.
...story of my life, btw. A voice with no sound. bahaha.
So! Penguins! Unfortunately, my mind isn't very original and it suggested penguins because that's the song that was playing. Which is not a step-up from talking about boyfriend because, well. Oh, just listen to it ~
Cute, no? Yes. But 'cute' is taboo for this post.
(Except for that one blurb! I promise! pinky swear, I just had to sort of legitimize my talking to myself moment so I have some shadow of sanity left...)
Did it work?
Don't answer that.
Just got so bored with my own post, I left it. For 10 minutes.
But! I did just get infinitely more excited for this internship. Ready for this folks? I just about woke up the neighborhood with how excited I was....AM.
Two words; Disney. Choir.
If they're lying to me, this is a sad day indeed. If I can go work in disneyland AND get my fix of choral activites while I'm there this is the best setup of my stinking LIFE!!
...so far.
Holy moly. Holy MOLY. And I leave in 6 days. S-I-X. That's a three letter word, people.
Speaking of which. I should do a bit more on my room before I hit the [sheeted] sack.
Love y'all :) you guys are great, whomever you may be.
Tere comes a poitn in everyone's life where they become so terribly tired but so terrible y awake that sleep is NTO an option as well as behavioral standarsds suddenly plummet and even if you have nver had a sip of alcohol, you could very well be passed off as the town drunk trying to drown themselves.
I realize that must not make any logial sense whatsoever.
I also made a pact with myself to not use the backspace bar this entire blgo post. it's actually kind of idicc...blah. Difficult.
There's drunk dialing. And drunk tank. and i've read a few blog posts by people who were actually drunk. Like, breathalizer drunk.
I'm just intoxicated with sleep depravation and malnutrtition. SO I figirued I'd blog.
My mom is often awe-struck by how fast i type. Coming from a woman who types with a maximum of three fingers at a time and maybe 5 letters a minute, it's not much of a credential compliment BUT i do type decently fast. Sometimes it's more fun to just type and not care what i'm saying but listen to the clicking ofthe keys.
Other times its really obnoxious.
Just depends.
She says it's because i play piano. Which it very well may be. Finger dexterity seems to be a crucial part of mastering the large instrument.
Ever notice how most instruments use basically all of thseir surface area efficiently but a piano is ridicuolously large, bulky and awkward for how elemental it is? Elementary i think is the word i wanted.
Maybe.
Maybe noet.
The sad part aobut his is, it's not even midnight. just one of thsoe times.
People should never, and i mean never put those price stickers on a leather bound book. What the epic fail?! c'mon, srsly guys. those stickers are like the cockroach of ltierature.
They never. let. go.
Some drooling troll monkey slapped two on the back of boyfriends birthday present, that black hitchhikers book. i would totally link it to the post for you but judging by my spelling/typing and train of thought and state of mind i just might end up ttransling...translating all of this to atlantian by accident and melt my computer into a globby mess of wires and plastic.
Then you'd have to find milo and kidagashmabga to get thme to uehlp (help) understand what 's going on even though you maaaay need their help anyway.
Good luck with that one. Last i heard atlantis is still lost.
Pretty sure i'm halfway to finding it right now.
No. I odn't do drugs. and yes, i solemnly swear (I'm up to no good? yes, obvsly) that i'm not drunk. I've actually otten asked that before. I ahd an asthma attacky thingmajigger, was losing consciousness and bf went to enslit (enlist) brother to help take me home and dad was like
omg o.O is she drunk??
I'm like
No! x[ just dying. thx for asking.
it was embarasing (+r +s). At least i recognize my mistakes when i see them. i'm just not backspacing so welcome to insanity. There are no cookies, except for the computer kind. I don't know what they actually are i only know sometimes the computer brain-farts and it says something about enabling cookies and i giggle.
That's all.
in twen (10) minutes it'll be 8 days to the day i leave. Countdwons are always difficult. Do you count the day you're cucrerently living in and do you count the day you're counting up to? Most of the itme i just omit the day im' living in. it's gona be over soon, it dpn't matter. But...
:....i mean
"* OMG
"8 days till I leave" so does that mean on the day 1 that's the day BEFORE i leave or the day i'm getting in the car with half my room in boxes and my entire life packed up/hidden away?
I don't know and i'm scared someone will bbe angry with me for not getting it right.
Don't be offended! i'm jst stoopid...
i'm going cross-eyed now. i should turn off the lights and lay down.
I promsie to update as soon as my mental capacity has recharged so this isn't the last thing i leave you iwith. cuz i realize it's going to be SUPER idiotic once i have my brain back. and my IQ. i would be embarrased already but that feature is currently out orf order.
Secondly, I should've just posted THAT to explain our story.
For my silly, LONG and grammatically failed attempt, visit here.
Yesterday was my last day of work at Walmart for the next little while. It was also quite possibly the longest day I've ever spent there. Knowing that there were only 4 hours left on any shift I'd be fulfilling at that particular door seemed to lengthen into 4 days. Funny how time can do that. It's a blessing and a curse.
I was genuinely surprised by the amount of well-wishes I received from a fair amount of my co-workers. Managers I was sure didn't know my name, random people I'd only talked to a handful of times and I even got a hug.
Though that was from one of the obnoxious fellahs mentioned here. Ol' #1 there. He saw me walking out and ran from his cash register to hug me. Just left a customer hanging there. The customers face was kind of priceless. I'm almost pretty sure my face matched it, actually.
I'm excited beyond expression for what these next few months hold in store for me. I sense a lot of growing and change for myself in them. I'm so grateful that I have a few close, loyal friends to support me and give me strength along the way, regardless of the distance between us.
My life has come up spinning at a very large, very intimidating line. I feel like that spin top from Inception, whirling and twirling, barely able to catch a sturdy footing or glimpse of what's ahead before I tumble off the table and plummet into a new experience.
I'm moving out; that in and of itself is huge for me. I've never lived away from home for more than maybe a month at a time. Girls camp, EFY, music camp, staying with my sister in cali, all were merely stretching my toe out of my comfort zone and dabbling in the pool of reality.
I'll have complete stranger roommates; I've dealt with being thrown in a room with weird people I've never met....for about a week. Not four months. I'm praying I'm matched with people that I can handle (and they can handle me) for this extended amount of time.
I'll have bills; Again, living at home, I know I'm spoiled. Hopefully, having no delusions about spending all my money to sleep in a bed and to eat veggies at least some part of the week will keep me from being shell-shocked when I morph into that poor college student that is a part of everyone else's life.
My faith will be stretched; part of the Disney agreement is that I have to be available Friday, Saturday, Sunday and two other days during the week. I'm also taking a bicycle as my mode of transportation. Those two factors combined with completely by myself it'll be hard to get myself to church every week. I wish I could say there was no question about it and I'll be sitting in sacrament 10 minutes early like the dutiful LDS saint I should be. But I'm not. I have struggles. I do, however, have enough faith to know that I sincerely want to try and be there. To try and get better.
I'm losing the comfort and safety of my boyfriend; this is a hard one. My heart aches and my eyes sting at the thought of not being able to see his smile when I do stupid, quirky things. The thought that I won't curl up on his lap and feel his warm, enveloping arms surround me during this period of growth and adventure scares me. I want him there beside me. I want us to grow side by side. I dreamt last night that we were both at some sort of seminar in a large auditorium. But the crowd was segregated by different classes and I couldn't sit next to him. I wasn't allowed. I wanted desperately to sit in the chair next to him, hold his hand and get his take on what was being taught. I'm going to miss him terribly. Luckily, I'll have skype and chatting and texting and phone calls to keep me from slumping into a puddled mess of human being. He's my pillar. My foundation. The stitching that keeps my soul intact. I mean it when I say he's the friend I never found in myself. He made everything about me ok. I can accept myself with him being part of me. He legitimized my existence.
Or something like that. He's ok, I guess.
I'm about to turn 21 ('about' being a relative term....meaning like, 4.5 months) and I'm actually growing up for the first time. There's a whole lot of life laid out ahead of me and I'm excited to discover it year by year.
As well as cowering in fear that I won't live up to it.
But here's to trying!
And now I'm done. Cuz I need to shower. Cuz I'm gonna go bake yummy things and craft pretty things and laugh until I'm 5 lbs skinnier with bestest best friend Allie :)
(This post is going to be super long, btw. If you have real stuff to do with your life, I suggest shutting off the comp and getting away while you can. If you're at the point where you're beating your head on the desk from utter, complete boredom.....CEASE your abuse and continue reading)
Sometimes, I'm pretty sure I'm dying. Already. We're all dying, obviously, but I mean it's coming on a lot sooner than I want.
It's totally not, stop freaking out--STOP.
But my body does things that I'm 99.1/2% sure are not normal.
Like when I yawn at work and my left ear, not my right, reverse-pops. As in, I pressurized my ear from the inside. I've done it a couple times now in the last few days and it scares me just a teensy bit. I've passed out at least 4 times and have come to the point where I can tell when it's coming. I feel legitimately queasy and the room does actually spin. But this ear thing is much weirder and much more awkward than that.My eyes can't focus and I feel them jittering back and forth, it gives me a headache. Really fast. It's like I'm a ballerina and am trying to keep my eyes on one point of the wall, but the wall won't sit still so my eyes can't handle it. Closing them doesn't work either. Ever twirled around and around in circles then flopped on the ground? It doesn't work then, it certainly doesn't work now. Plus the nausea and mind-blowing vertigo.
Not to mention my temples go kinda numb. That's the best I can explain it.
So I basically die a little every time I yawn. No big deal. Whatevs.
Blah.
The other day, bestest best friend Allie tagged this blog in one of her posts, claiming that the "story" of me and boyfriend was here to be read...
Um.
It's totally not.
And I feel like that's now this huge travesty and blunder on my part for being a terrible blogger and not including the story of how "Hark/Mope" came to be.
You know how couples have these really cute ways of combining their names so it's like a nickname for the relationship?
For example, Allora + Alex = The Allorex (I did come up with that myself, btdubs. And it stuck). I'm sure you know others or have at least heard of the practice.
There is no cutesy way to combine "Hope and Mark".
Hopark?
Marope?
My first thought with that second one is 'Merope Gaunt' from Harry Potter with that terrible story of the Gaunt Family and, naturally, that does not instill cutesy feelings within...at all.
So we're stuck with Hark/Mope. Depending on what kind of mood we're in, apparently.
Anyway! Mark Douglass. And me. We didn't start out as fantastic as we are now. Ohhh, no sir.
Firstly, I was sorta kinda maybe just a little bit in love with these one kid named Ian McHardy. My highschool sweetheart. And that was the problem there. High school. He still had to go on a two-year mission in which our only means of communication would be how willing I was to sit down, write a letter, put it in an ACTUAL ENVELOPE, lick the actual envelope, lick a whole 'nother stamp, and send it on it's way....to texas. Yeah, only a state away. Makes things super awkward now.
Not to mention; Mark? Totally one of Ian's bestest buds.
Yup.
I'm that girl.
Boyfriend knows this, so it's not too terrible for me to admit openly on the interwebz, but I really was not Mark's biggest fan last summer. Our first memories of each other are quite different.
He remembers me from a high school choir concert after event....thing. Apparently, Ian was introducing us or something and I came off as this conceited crazy chick with long hair.Iremember him from this one time when Ian and I were trying to go on a day roadtrip to Payson to play in the snow, but his car broke down and Mark came to save us. He pretty much ignored me the entire time then judged me later for being quiet because I was stuck in the backseat of the noisy little tiny car where I couldn't hear any of the conversation anyway. Not that I would've talked much considering Mark has this way of looking at you like the words coming out of your mouth are a noxious gas that would wipe out humanity and now you are on the same level as Hitler.
Something along those lines.
First impressions; not impossible to overcome ;)
So, leading up to when Ian was leaving, July 27th of 2010; Mark was...not too conspicuous about having a bit of a crush on me. But then again, all of Ian's guy friends liked me. I was the girl that wouldn't bum out their LAN parties and even, /gasp!, play a round of Counterstrike or two...or a few hours worth. I dunno. It happened. Plus there was that soccer game where I sliced up my heel pretty bad from playing barefoot in the retention basin and didn't cry or freak out. Those were basically my two initiating acts that got me accepted into the group.
So I didn't think much of Mark's "attraction".
Until Ian was gone.
And suddenly Mark was actually....I guess you could call it flirting. He actually talked to me and expected an answer, for more than 5 sentences in a row. I resented it quite vehemently for awhile. In fact, this was his own special theme song for awhile:
Essentially, I never looked his way twice. He was a fun friend to hang out with, but all his romantic swings were on the unappreciated side of my emotional scale.
Except for, whoops, that whole "fun friend" thing became pretty much every day. We'd all be hanging out, people-people-people, woot. Then people would start dwindling and I'd be dawdling behind and end up the last person staying at Mark's house....for hours on end.
I distinctly remember the first night I actually intentionally flirted back. There had been a movie night, the couch bed was pulled out and we ended up legitimately wrestling each other for prime tickling and whacking each other with sandals. You're probably imagining some cute little romp you've seen in those rom-coms where the sexual tension starts growing and your stupid woman hormones go all crazy and you get super attached to the relationship right before things go wrong.....
This was not that scenario. There were bruises and welts and peculiar looks from a bemused Mark. I drove home feeling the guiltiest I had since I snuck an oreo on Fast Sunday when I was 11. I thought, "Oh no. I'm some sort of heartless whore. I'm going to ruin this kid!"
But I couldn't stop. I missed flirting. Ian had been gone for at least 3 months by this time (pathetic, yes. I know. Don't judge me) and Mark was...there. That's no excuse, of course. For awhile my theme song could be:
Just sayin'. It fit pretty darn well when it came out and I was like, "Way to describe me, Perri. Way to go."
So crap I'm flirting with Mark, he's totally charming and sweet and cares a whole lot more about everything than I ever thought but I'm getting these letters from Ian that are the bread and butter to my happiness. I am thoroughly ashamed to admit I was Bella Swan for a bit there. Except there was no Edward. Mark's hairy, though. He could be a Jacob. Ian's more of a....well, I don't know anymore. I can't really say what he is.
It's november, Ian's been gone 4 months and it hits Black Friday. My best friend from high school was in town and we were hanging out a lot (considering she was sleeping in my bed and staying at my house). I was trying to ignore it but every time my friend, let's call her Liz, started flirting with Mark there was this little monster in my gut that would fire up and snarl its nasty little growl that said, "Don't you go near him." I pretended it wasn't there, but kept up the competition flirting anyway.
The night before Black Friday, when everybody goes and stands in line for hours on end because we're crazy American's and can't help a chance to spend our money on worthless stuff for SUPER CHEAP! me and Liz went to give Mark some company at Fry's electronics. Where he had the best set up I have ever seen in my life.
He brought a whole loveseat couch with him.
And a table.
And a projector with speakers and all 3 extended edition LOTR movies.
And hot chocolate.
SO 3-way cuddling sesh? I think yes. So Mark's on the left, I'm in the middle and Liz is on the right. There's blankets because, well it's november and we're all desert rats so it's freezing, and did I mention love seat couch? Yeah, we're not exactly skinny little people either. Mark was half leaning on my and Liz had her legs thrown over both me and Mark with her head resting on my shoulder. My arms are resting on her knees, until I kinda start dozing off. My hands pull back so it's just my palms on her knees. My mind is vaguely aware of Mark's hands placed comfortably on her shins....a foot within my reach.
Or so I imagine. Remember, there's blankets so I can't actually see any of what's going on.
I sat there analyzing my racing heart, fluttering stomach and tingling palms for a few minutes whilst Frodo and his posse snowshoe it through the mountains. I have to control my breathing when I realize, "I want Mark to hold my hand..." and give in. I set myself into that mode where you're going to be super stealthy about everything but get exactly what you want. I "shift" sleepily and my left hand gets a lot closer to where I think Mark's is. I don't want to move any closer for fear that I'll bump into him and be super awkward (because what actually happens totally isn't awkward..../sarcasm).
To my surprise and fluttery pleasure I feel his pinky brush up against knuckles...but it keeps moving. Half of his hand is flopped kind of haphazardly across my fingers. I figure he doesn't understand where everything is under the blankets either and wait for him to feel along my hand and take hold.
And wait.
And wait some more...
Waiting...?
What is the deal?!
I was itching to stretch my pinky out and hook onto one of his fingers. Thank the heavens I didn't. As I was dying to move my hand spasmed from the stress leaking out my brain and as my fingers twitched I got a sensory picture in my head of what was truly happening under that blanket.
Mark and Liz were holding hands.
On top of mine.
I quite easily could have cried for how stupid I felt.
I tried to wait and see if it was just a momentary mishap and they would come to their senses and realize how unattracted they were to each other and rip their hands apart. I lasted maybe a minute.
Oh. Yep. I'm totally gonna cry. Moving now!
I pretended to wake up and their hands slipped apart. Liz made little chirping waking noises too. I pretty much commanded that we leave.
Next day: 2x>> awkward texts from Liz's phone that I answered, Tangled in the theatre with no arm rest between me and Mark, more 3-way cuddling at Mark's house, competition hand positioning, Hope triumphs and now we've locked fingers and Liz has retreated to the other couch.
It was pretty much the most awkward, tense, emotionally exhausting love triangle of my life.
So we were holding hands. We went to the Institute Winter Ball together, had a double date with the Allorex and made fantastic gingerbread houses (I'll make a picture montage later. This post can't handle it). We danced and as he recalls it, "It was the first time you actually let me get close to you and stayed there..."
All throughout December I was basically nonverbally begging him to kiss me. But he wouldn't. Finally, December 27th he asked me in the most perfect way ever; "Will you let me be your boyfriend?"
We didn't kiss till January 7th, after our other dear friends', JT and Tamzon's, wedding reception.
The rest is history and you won't get that history until I'm writing an engagement post.
Whew! Sadly, that's the nutshell version. If I had adequate energy and if you guys had adequate attention spans, there would and could be more.
But I realize there's about 5 other social networking sites to check and countless memes to catch up on.
