FOUR DAYS DUISJERJAOKFKSHDHA

It's been a while. Sorry. Isn't it weird how just as you think your life is really boring and lame, it suddenly picks up pace and here you are, 6 months later, about to move out of state for school? Yeah. Life is weird.

So, anyway, here I am. My things are packed. My cello is on its way to Idaho. I prepared a bunch of excerpts from two symphonies. And I am beyond stressed out and scared. But I think it's all pretty understandable. I've never been to college before, much less to major in music (so flipping scary, why did I choose this major), AND I'm moving, like 1000 miles away. Also, snow. Eek. Help.

I guess my biggest fear is that I'll get to Idaho and show up to my audition and bomb it and not get into a decent orchestra and not get picked to have private lessons with the cello professor. That would suck. Or that I will literally be the worst cello player in rexburg, Idaho. Also totally plausible, but I am kind of mentally prepared for that. I don't know if that's helpful, though. So I guess the good news is that now my expectations can only be met or exceeded. Ahh, college. I love you already.

But, life has been pretty good up to this point. I say I'm stressed about all that stuff but I'm actually feeling really at peace about it and I'm TELLING myself that I should be stressed. Which is not very nice of me to do. I should quit doing that asap. Like I said, life has been good. I got a two new jobs. One sucked, one didn't. So I dropped the one that sucked and stuck with the one that didn't. Which was awesome. And I wasn't meeting my financial goals so my parents helped me start making bread to make up for the money I needed and my friends and family helped me raise TWO. THOUSAND. extra dollars. So now I can actually eat at school. It's very exciting. And not only that but I received random donations from people and a freaking awesome laptop from my aunt and uncle and basically lots of miracles went down that allowed me to be able to go to school at all. I'm so grateful it's overwhelming, so if you contributed to this at all, know that I don't know how I can repay you. Because that's how awesome you all are.

So, yeah. I payed off my first semester. With no scholarships. And I know some of you are probably thinking that that's my own fault for not getting good grades, but compared to other overachievers at a Mormon school I am pretty unremarkable. Whatever. I FEEL pretty remarkable because I paid for school. 

So here's to hoping that I get to school and things only go uphill from here and I have an amazing time and I don't freeze to death. Wish me luck! Prayers and such are appreciated. 

hashtag nerd status

Let me preface this rant. I get that some of you wear fake glasses for fun or have done it once in your life. I get that. It's cool. I don't hate you. I do get annoyed with you all sometimes though, and I think once I explain I'll be pretty justified feeling that way.

I was 12 when I started noticing that the world was a little...fuzzy. The teacher sat me in the back and I had a hard time reading the board, but I figured this was just because the teacher's handwriting sucked or that the markers she used were too thin or something. Or, I figured, my neighbors probably can't read it either and we'll just suffer together till a new seating chart. But then they all informed me that they could see the board perfectly and that I was the weird one here.
So I told my mom and we went to an eye doctor and it turns out I'm nearsighted and need glasses. We got some simple, plastic framed ones and the rest is history.

So fast forward to August this year when school is about to start, and what do we have here? Every other post on my instagram feed is a popular girl, presumably a cheer leader or a dancer or student council member, in a pair of big, plastic, fake glasses with pigtails/an intentionally unattractive outfit/books/etc with a caption like "getting my nerd on for the new school year #glasses #nerdstatus #nerdlyfe #backtoskool".
Umm...yeah. That bothers me a little bit. I get that you're trying to be cute, but I wear glasses because I 1)Need them to see and drive and function and 2)Feel like they are a fun accessory that fits my personality and my personal style. So when it seems like every teenage girl feels like wearing glasses makes you a nerd and socially awkward and weird and a bookworm, that is going to bug me. And this isn't just a once-a-year thing. I am constantly seeing posts like this. Seriously. All the time.

There is also another breed of girly internet post that bugs me- when girls talk about having a "lazy day" or "ugly day" and make it very obvious because they don't have make up on, their hair isn't done, and- you guessed it- they are wearing their glasses. Glasses are becoming associated with being lazy, nerdy, and weird, and that's going to bother me because I wear glasses and I am none of those things. I literally saw a post the other day where a girl had just gotten contacts and posted a glasses-less picture with the caption "Just got contacts! I'm not ugly anymore!" Oh. All right. Glasses make you ugly. I was not aware. Cool.

So let me just establish some things, universe.

1. I am a girl who chooses to wear glasses. No, I am not getting contacts anytime soon. I'm not getting lasik either.

2. Glasses can be fashion forward and trendy. They are a simple accessory that make an impact. Wearing them doesn't make me any less cute or attractive than someone who is glasses-less.

3. I may be a nerd, but it has nothing to do with my glasses. I do that all on my own, foolz.

4. Don't ask me for help on your homework because you noticed I wear glasses and you assume I'm a scholar. If being smart was as easy as wearing glasses there would be a whole lot more people who wear them.

5. When I take my glasses off to clean them and you notice me without them, please refrain from using the phrase "You look so pretty without your glasses!", as if I just made the transformation from an ugly troll to a beautiful supermodel. Let's not kid ourselves- I'm hot either way.

6. And while we're on this topic, if I have my glasses off for some reason, resist holding up some fingers and asking "How many fingers am I holding up?!!!??!?!?!?!?!?!?!" because I will most likely roll my eyes at you. I'm blind, not stupid.

I feel sort of bad that this post seems so angry and mean, but I'm not gonna lie, some of these girls are just plain rude with how they approach glasses. As annoyed as I am, this won't deter me from wearing my glasses. If anything, I want to wear them more to show the world that glasses are, in fact, really cool.

I used to be insecure about my glasses, but within the last few years I have really grown to love them, and one experience stands out in my mind. I went to homecoming last year with one of my close friends, Jacob. I was getting ready to go to the dance; getting my hair curled and my makeup done, and, as I was putting my dress on, it occurred to me that I was still wearing my glasses. I sat there for a minute and wondered if I should try not wearing them. It was a formal occasion, after all, and my sources had told me that glasses mean being dressed-down and casual and sometimes even a little sloppy. But, when I took them off, it just didn't feel right. So I decided I would wear them and then try to take them off for pictures so at least I would look somewhat attractive and pretty in the photographic evidence of the day. So we get together and we're about to take pictures, and I say to Jacob "I think I'll take my glasses off for the pictures so I look nicer." he stopped me. "Umm, why are you taking your glasses off?" he said, "You're Lauren."
I have seriously not forgotten that moment. It might seem insignificant, but I think that's when I started to realize that I can wear glasses if I want to because I'm Lauren, and I determine whether or not glasses make me look nerdy and lazy, or, alternatively, beautiful and cool.

So girls, continue to post your "nerd" pictures. I'll be over here posting my model shots.

Thoughts From Institute: Decision-Making, Benign Whateverism, and Repentance

One of my favorite things in the world, besides candy corn (of course), is the scriptures. Specifically the Old Testament, which feels like an old (no pun intended) BFF that I can always count on the keep me engaged and actively interested in learning more about the gospel and progressing spiritually. 

Let me put a little disclaimer here. This might be a boring post for some of you. If you don't like little rants about gospel topics then stop now. But, if you want something interesting to think about and study for yourself, then stick with me here cuz this is some good stuff.

So, I take two institute courses and I am there 4 days a week. One class is Psalms (that I am sure I will end up posting about so brace yourselves) and the Gospels (Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John). Today I had my New Testament class and we were in Matthew 5-7-- the sermon on the mount. The sermon on the mount is one of the most discussed sections of the New Testament because it is one of the only places in scripture that specifically outlines, with the Beatitudes, how to become like Christ; or, in other words, how to become perfect. We were given quotes for this portion of the lesson, and one of my favorites was from Harold B Lee: "In His sermon on the Mount the Master has given us somewhat of a revelation of His own character, which was perfect, or what might be said to be 'an autobiography, every syllable of which He had written down in deeds,' and in doing so has given us a blueprint for our own lives." If you are looking for a piece of scripture that is tailor made for you, with advice and direction and guidance for real things that you are struggling with, look no further because this is it. The first portion of the sermon on the Mount is the listing of the Beatitudes- blessed are the poor in spirit, blessed are they that mourn, blessed are the meek, blessed are the pure in heart, etc. All of which are awesome and great, but one speficially stood out: Blessed are they that hunger and thirst after righteousness, for they shall be filled (Matthew 5:6). This is the most important and central beatitude because a desire to be good and learn good and live good is the whole point of all of this- to become perfect. To change in a positive direction and become a better version of yourself. "There is too the significant blessing of personal momentum that akways comes when we practice decision making in which we both reject wrong and choose good. We thus avoid what one prophet called the in-betweenness of the 'sorrowing of the damned'. It is not enough to reach a bland behavioral point when we no longer take pleasure in sin; we must hunger and thirst for righteousness." (Neil A Maxwell). It's all fine and dandy if you get to a point where you can say "I won't sin", but the mindset we need to be striving for is the step above- to be thinking to ourselves "I will strive to be good". And, not only that, but there is a whole nother level above "I will strive to be good"- "I will strive to become better". That is the mindset Christ is trying to instill here to his followers.

But being good is hard. And being better is even harder. The visual aid that my teacher used was almost a little too math-y for my tastes, it's super accurate and visual and I love it:

This is from my institute study journal...legit stuff, you guys.

So, basically, Christ challenges us to climb upward. Satan tries to convince us to take just a few more steps down the slope until we slip and are further down than we ever intended to be. That's the hard part about being here on earth- it is so difficult to climb upward and so easy to slide down. And, once you get sliding, it's so slippery and it's hard to get your footing to attempt to climb back up. 

Now, most decisions fall into the center part I outlined in green- they aren't life or death decisions. Skipping out on reading your scriptures or praying one night because you're too tired won't damn you to Hell. But, by th same logic, doing a service project or bearing your testimony won't automatically qualify you for the celestial kingdom. However, small good or bad choices slowly shift us to one side or the other. You don't just wake up one day with a porn addiction or as an alcoholic or with some major, life altering sin weighing you down and dragging you deeper and deeper down the slope- you work your way there when you go from occasionally missing seminary to always missing seminary, or occasionally forgetting to pray to never praying at all- it's gradual and you oftentimes don't notice just how far you've fallen until you're there. And, from watching friends suffer I know that the low point of that slope is a terrible, miserable place to be. 

This all seems a little bleak, but there's good news- as my teacher said "Thank Heavens there's a way to climb back out". Christ's atonement gave us the ability to repent- and, without this ability, if we slipped an fell, there would be no way to get out. We would be stuck and lost and alone. Thank Heavens for a Heavenly Father and Christ who want nothing more than for you to get out of the hole where you've fallen and to climb back up, towards them, towards the pinnacle of the slope (celestial kingdom (I'll come back to this)). If you've fallen, you're not alone, not even a little, because Christ literally felt the agony and pain that comes with failing to keep a comandment- he hears you and he knows how you're feeling. Thank Heavens for that. 

So let's say you've repented. Or maybe you never fell in the first place, maybe you're just stagnant, in the middle of the graph, not going up or going down. This comes back to the first point of the lesson and the purpose of the beatitudes- to not just be good but to get better. In other words, you're going to have to climb. 

So for example, because it is a fairly common sin and easy for most to comprehend doing (rather than "thou shall not kill"), sexual sin. One of the beatitudes says "Ye have heard what it was said by them of old time, Thou shalt not commit adultery". Awesome. Great. Don't have sex with anyone before marriage and be faithful when you are married. Easy. That's me deciding to be good. But then it goes further "But I say unto you, That whosoever looketh on a woman [or man] to lust after her hath commited adultery with her already in his heart" (Matthew 5:27-28). So, keeping this commandment isn't just avoiding adultery- it's also not thinking unclean thoughts, which is infinitely more difficult. But, when we do this and become better, we climb a little higher up the slope towards perfection. It requires a full commitement and dedication to the cause of climbing up this increasingly steep mountain- "Sadly, modern Christianity does not acknowledge that God makes any real demands on those who believe in Him, seeing Him rather as a butler 'who meets their needs when summoned' or a therapist whose role is to help people 'feel good about themselves'. It is a religious outlook that 'makes no pretense at changing lives'. By contrast, the God portrayed in both the Hebrew and Christian scriptures asks, not just for commitment, but for our very lives. The God of the Bible traffics in life and death, not niceness, and calls for sacrificial love, not benign whateverism." (Christofferson) That phrase is extremely memorable and powerful- [calling] for sacrificial love, not benign whateverism. We can't just be indifferent about progressing and moving forward- it should ideally be our only focus. And, it will become more and more difficult as we progress- "Obviously as the path of discipleship ascends,  that trail gets ever more narrow until we come to that knee-buckling pinnacle of the sermon of which Elder Christofferson just spoke: 'Be ye therefore perfect, even as your Father which is in heaven is perfect.'" 

Some, including me, might think 'you seriously expect me to be perfect? Is that even possible? Am I capable of reaching the pinnacle where Christ is?' With Christ's assistance, we definitely can. Think of him as the equivelant of a friend, hiking the mountain bhind you, pushing you forward so the hike will still be hard, but not as hard as it could be. 

So, anyway, the point is, change, in the right direction, is good. And change is hard. And change is nessecary. "The Final Judgement is not just an evaluation of a sum total of good and evil acts-- what we have done. It is an acknowledgement of the final effect our acts and thoughts-- what we have become. It is not enough for anyone to just go through the motions. The commandments, ordinances, and covenents of the gospel are not a list of deposits required to be made in some heavenly account. The gospel of Jesus Christ is a plan that shows us how to become what our Heavenly Father desires us to become." (Oaks) 

Institute is awesome. And I thought this was all worth sharing. 

A Letter to My Lover-- Netflix.

Oh Netflix. My dear. I remember when you first came about...I was in Junior High, and my friends got their movies off of the internet and mailed to their front door. It was hip and trendy but then you released a new service-- on-demand TV. And I was hooked.

Before I met you, when I wanted to watch a tv show, I would go find it on the guide and record it to the DVR. Then wait for it to premier, let it record, and enjoy after it airs. It was nice, but I wanted more. If you felt like binge-watching an entire series, you had to track down a channel that showed re-runs and then wait for all of them record. And even then you have to skip through pesky commercials. That's no way to live. 

And here you come, Netflix, with your reasonable 8-dollar-a-month-fee and a plethora of episodes- no, not just episodes, but entire seasons, heck, entire SERIES available at the click of a button. And no commercials. TV-lovers rejoice!!

But, as magical as this new breed of TV watching has been, you don't exactly support effective time management. If I have to choose between homework or Netflix, I'm going to be honest...I will choose Netflix everytime. And not just one or two episodes....more like one or two entire seasons. I have spent many a night awake till the wee hours of the morning, clicking the "next episode" option over and over again for "just one last episode" of New Girl or Breaking Bad or Mad Men or whatever I'm currently obsessing over. 

And you can't really blame me- the On-Demand TV craze has revolutionized the way we watch TV by making basically anything we want to watch totally accessible and affordable. Netflix is a household name. And, understandably so. On-Demand TV is as addictive as it is innovative. So much accesibility and so little time. Which means I need to clear my schedule of pesky responsibilities like work and school so I'll have more Netflix time to catch up on the newest, coolest TV shows. As a high school graduate about to enter college in January, I am grateful for the potential movie nights and study-breaks that will be filled with Netflix. But, I am also concerned about my total lack of self control. Which means a 30 minute study break will turn into something closer to 30 HOURS of tv watching. 

So, Netflix, as much as I love you, and as innovative and life-changing as you have been, I'm afraid we might need to take some space and date other people. I'm gonna try going out with college in January and see how it goes...and for now I'm going to get more serious with work. I know it hurts, but this is for the best. It's not you, it's me. Okay, maybe it is a little bit you.

philosophical thoughts while waiting to get the tires replaced on my car (alternate title: idaho is cold.)

Well, it's been a while since I've written, hasn't it? I mean, I'm so busy doing nothing that I can't seem to get around to writing. That, and my life is crazy boring right now so there is really nothing to write about. I mean, I'm sitting in a Tire Pros place in the middle of nowhere trying to get my mini cooper's tires replaced. Nothing entertaining about that. AND THERE IS NO WIFI so I'm writing this now and will post it later, if I can even write something coherent and not-boring. Hm... now seems like the appropriate time for a thoughtful rant about college.

Time is passing and now I only have 5 months until I leave for school.... FIVE. And I'm pretty freaking terrified. 

I'm born and raised in Arizona. I am a native. I was born in Phoenix and I've survived, like, 18 hellish Arizona summers. I am used to the feeling of being all sweaty and nasty all the time for 4 months of every year. I am used to never having to bother with rain. Like, the windshield wipers on my car have kind of melted off and are peeling and little pieces of plastic are hanging on for dear life to the wipers but its all good cuz I literally only use them a few times a year. I am used to seeing cacti and lizards and desert-y mountains around me. 

I am not used to seasons. Real winters scare me. The fact that leaves can change colors freaks me out. The idea of having to suit up in winter wear before leaving the house is no bueno. I am freezing in any weather colder than 50 degrees. I'm like a reptile-- snow=panic...

AND IN FIVE MONTHS I WILL BE LIVING IN IDAHO. 

What the. Why am I doing this? I keep having this recurring nightmare of just going for a leisurely stroll after class one day and then falling into a snowdrift were no one can see me and I'm not capable of getting myself out and I slowly, painfully freeze to death. I also have nightmares about going to do baptisms at the Rexburg temple (which is on campus, beeteedubs. Score!) and then I leave with my hair wet and it freezes up and breaks off and then I have a stupid-Arizonan-who-froze-her-hair-off hairstyle. And they will all mercilessly mock me and boys will be like 'omg dudes, nobody go on dates or marry her cuz she's totes stupid. must be from Arizona. Lulz.' 

Okay, so those would be extreme incidences. Maybe some more mild things will happen... Like, I can guarantee I will slip on ice and fall at least 200 times. Two hundred is me rounding down. Basically, that'll probably happen everyday. I'll probably totally end up buying the wrong gear, too, so I'll just be cold all the time and be perpetually shiver-y like a chihuahua. Those little guys get me, they originate from Mexico so they know the struggle, obviously. 

I think  this is pretty reasonable, being afraid of the cold. Idaho has some pretty brutal winters, from what I've heard. Lots of snow. Lots of ice. Lots of wind. Coldcoldcoldcold. When I was visiting up there it was November and I walked to church with my friend Sami and I had a cotton church skirt with no tights on and I literally did not remove any of my winter gear for the entire 3 hour block of church because I was so damn cold. I could barely even see straight I was so cold. And, they had 9 am church and it was LITERALLY TEN DEGREES OUTSIDE when we walked over. So I was basically like 'what fresh hell is this' and tried to keep my cool (no pun intended) and I probably looked really dumb.  Now that I think about it, I'm guessing most of my college experience will be summed up by that last sentence. 

I mean, I appreciate BYUI. Because of BYUI and the subsidized tuition, I can afford to not only attend a university all 4 years of college, but pay it off because of their track system-- as opposed to a traditional 2 semester, August to May schedule, I will have enough time to work and pay it off in between. Which is good, because I'm just gonna go out on a limb and say that I won't be makin' bank as a teacher. And, ill be at a school that is literally 100 percent mormon, so my chances of finding an awesome, extremely hawt (this is a requirement, if he's ugly it's a no-go) LDS husband while up there are pretty good. All I have to do is brave a few months of cold weather and try to not freeze to death in the process. And try to emotionally, mentally, and physically make it through moving to Idaho the first week of January when it'll be freezing. I'm shivering just writing about it, and it's a bajillion degrees outside right now. 

Okay, so I just read over this blog post. It sounds kind of stupid, but not idiot-Arizona-girl-who-froze-her-hair-OFF stupid, so I think this one's a winner.

This Will Seem Hilarious Afterwards

My day has been challenging and it's only 10 am.

So I'm housesitting/dogsitting for a good friend of mine while they're out of town, which is the sweetest deal ever because I can go to work and make money and make money while working and making money. It's like poor-college-kid-trying-to-pay-off-school heaven. Plus, Amber is awesome and her dogs are adorable, so everyone wins.

Anyway, so I'm housesitting and I've only been here since Saturday, but I feel like I'm getting settled into the routine of taking care of the dogs and knowing where stuff is and whatnot. I get ready for the day, do my hair and makeup, and eat breakfast, and all that's left to do is get dressed and leave for work.
Now let me explain the root of this problem- the other day, my dad informed me that after work we would be meeting up and going shopping for "professional" clothes, which got me excited, because shopping, that's why. Anyway, so we meet up at DownEast because there are cute clothes there...but I was informed that cute church skirts apparently don't equal office wear? I dunno. So we ended up at JCPenney and got me some classy Liz Claiborne blouses (My definition of "blouse" and my dad's definition of "blouse" are two very different words. Like, I was thinking a cute cotton-y top with lace on it or something and he was thinking button-up with long sleeves and no cute butterfly/bike/owl print and not even anything sparkly...what the heck, dad?)  and pencil skirts and whatever. And, as annoyed as I was that I needed to dress up, it was fun getting some really nice-looking stuff, considering that most of the time I wear jeans with a "tee" (not a blouse, don't call it a blouse!) and some cute sandals or something. What can I say, I'm 18, I can pretty much wear whatever I want.
Anyway, the stuff that i got was really nice and needed to be hand-washed and ironed and whatever. So, in an effort to keep these professional clothes wrinkle-free and ever classy, I hung them up in the car. When I get ready, I will go pick a top out of the car and go change and it's no biggy and whatever. So I go outside to get my colorful, polka-dotty top, still in my pjs (American flag tshirt and Fremont Junior High PE shorts (yeah, I still have them)) and I hear the door, that I left cracked a little bit so I could easily walk back in and the dogs wouldn't run out, click shut. I figured this was no biggie, because I had unlocked the locks from the inside before walking out to get my top. Sorry, blouse. But somehow the bottom lock, which has been tricky for me anyway, fell shut and locked me out. I ran back to the car to grab my extra key and when I looked into the car I realized with horror that I HAD LEFT BOTH SETS OF SPARE KEYS IN THE HOUSE, ON THE KITCHEN COUNTER. LIKE, MAYBE 5 FEET FROM THE DOOR. WHICH HAD APPARENTLY DECIDED TO LOCK ITSELF. I freaked out and tried to think of solutions and my first thought was that Amber had said something about a spare key in the back. I grabbed the only shoes I happened to have in the car (my sparkly black work flats- what can I say, I keep my footwear classy even when I'm in my pajamas) and walked around the back. The dogs had run out of the doggy door and were barking at me as if to say "Hey Lauren why are you outside you silly human you just come on inside through the doggy door okay why are you so upset come play with me friend I love you wait why are we outside can I have a treat PLAY WITH ME PRETTY PLEASE" and I tried to focus and find this key. It wasn't in the grill. It wasn't under the rug. Finally, I saw one of those extra key things attached to the hose and angels started singing and I was like WOOP gonna go get dressed, told you it was no biggie, self!

Aaaaand the key wasn't in there. And then I thought what cruel person buys a spare key compartment thing WITH NO SPARE KEY INSIDE. Then it hit me that OHHH that must be the spare key I was given that is sitting on the counter, in the kitchen, next to the original set of keys I was given. Gotcha. So I was the cruel, heartless soul who took my spare keys from myself. K.

And here's where my freaking out escalated and I was like crap, now I probably need to go get help because my freaking phone is inside. And if i need to go get help that means I have to talk to people in my pjs with no bra while wearing my sparkly work shoes. WHY.

My only other solution that was coming to mind was to go talk to Amber's neighbor, Gena, who is super chill and might also have a key and probably won't judge my choice of outfit.
So I get in the car because I had my car keys because I'm not THAT stupid and go to Gena's. Aaaand I knock on the door and she isn't there.

So I sat there in the mini, with my work shirt hanging up behind me, mocking me in the rearview mirror, laughing at my stupidity. Well, I mean, not LITERALLY but I could feel it's judgey-ness.
So then I figure my only option left is to show up to Bonita's house, unannounced. I mean, I kind of do this anyways, but never in pajamas at 9 am to ask if I can use her phone because mine is locked in the house along with the two sets of keys I have to said house and also, can I call Canada? Because my family is suddenly Canadian and I'm not. Typical stuff.
But really, I did go to the Frost's and Bonita seemed a little confused about why I hadn't texted her before I showed up, but she was cool and even let me use her cell phone to call Canada and cry to my mom about how I would probably die without all my stuff. She said to calm down and gave me Amber's number so I could text her. After a lot of phone calls from me and my mom and a lot of searching, we found out that Gena wasn't answering her phone, this has happened before, and that the simplest solution was to track down a small child who was little enough to fit through the tiny dog door. But of course! Why didn't I think of that?

I guess I thought maybe it would be weird to track down some little kid I don't know, ask them to come with me to a house that isn't mine, and basically break in for me. I'm not a criminal, I swear. (That's probably what all criminals say).

So anyway, then my mom is like "Oh!! Dylan (my cousin) is probably out in Mesa for swim practice...I'll call them." And, since the universe decided to not hate me for once, he was, in fact, in Mesa, and right around the corner.
So Bonita and I drove seperately down to the house like a caravan of weirdos, so that she would have her phone on her incase we needed backup. Wes and Dylan were already there when Bonita and I arrived, and Dylan squeezed through the little doggy door, which was actually kind of unbelievable to me because that thing was SMALL.

Anyway, the point is, I got in the house. And I have basically had the keys in my hand ever since.

Oh, and I will probably be getting some ice cream tonight. Because it was traumatizing, that's why.

Life Lessons via Slurpee

I just got back from Canada. It was wonderful and perfect....except for one incident that was the first time in a while that I wanted to burst into tears like a little kid in public.

So, it was my last full day in Canada, and in Vancouver they have all of these beautiful bike paths running through the city. My parents brought three bikes and decided that, before I left, we needed to go on a biking adventure to this pier and market thing, which was fine by me because as the oldest of 4 you don't get a lot of one-on-one parent time because a)your parents are too busy running after your six year old little sister and b)I am technically an adult now and don't need constant supervision and c) my siblings are all younger and, therefore, WAY cuter than I am so I totally get it.

Anyway, so we walk down to the lobby and get our bikes and at this point I was stressing because I stress about everything. Oh, and I hadn't even touched a bike in, like, 8 years. That's almost a decade, people.

I voiced this concern and then my dad was like "umm have you ever heard the phrase 'it's like riding a bike'? of course you will be able to pick it up again, that's how this works" but apparently he hasn't ever seen me ride a bike, because even when I was "good" at riding a bike, I wasn't actually "good" at riding a bike. I could get up on the bike and sort of balance, but I freaked out everytime there was even a little bump in the road and I couldn't pedal uphill because I feel pretty heavy when I am trying to get my body weight up a hill on a foot-operated, more annoying version of a car (side note: looking back, the fear of bumps was actually quite rational because at the time I lived in a really desert-y area with lots and lots of cholla cacti. So if you fell off due to a bump you were gonna get stabbed. And those suckas HURT. boom. irrational fear, justified.) Anyway, so I get on the bike thinking it would be easy like dad said, WHICH IT WASN'T, and then we figured out that the phrase "it's like riding a bike" literally applies to every person on the planet except me which isn't surprising to me at all because I struggle in that whole being-an-average-person area.
But, anyway, we start our bikeride and the view was amazing. The bikes went through parks and gardens and awesome city areas by the water and the pier was amazing and great. The market atmosphere is awesome and the view of the boats on the water was so cool.

So then after having all this fun it's time to bike back. I was trying to stall and avoid it because I knew a lot of it would be uphill. And if any of you have heard of my adventures in weights class this last year, you know I'm a huge wimp. I was legitimately worried about passing out from exhaustion whislt trying to bike uphill and then ceasing to exist or something. It was very scary. But, finally we HAD to head back so I reluctantly followed.
It was mostly uphill, and, while it WAS beautiful, it was freaking hard to get up those hills. I don't think my legs have ever hurt that bad before. And it was starting to get hot. So, after I kind of gave up and threw a dramatic fit, and decided I was done with life and I would just curl up in a ball and die there, because biking SUCKS. So then my dad was forced to bribe me with something, and he claimed that if I just made it over the hill and down the street, there would be a 7/11 and we could get slurpees. That was reason enough to stop throwing a fit and just push through, so I biked all the way there like a freaking champ and we got our slurpees.

Slurpees are special. This is a topic my family has pondered and researched for quite some time, and we've decided all slushie-like drinks fall into two categories. Category one is the run-of-the-mill, sugary, watery slushie things that are common at most gas stations. QT and Circle K fall in these categories. Their slushies/freezonis/whatever you want to call them are really icey and syrupy, and after a while they harden into an un-drinkable ice cube floating in dyed sugar water. While these types of slushies are okay, they are really nothing special and usually the flavors they offer totally suck. But the sad part is that these are really, really common. And they are merely tolerable. And usually just taste gross after you're halfway done. Category two in the slushie drink world is completely different. These drinks are your ICEE and slurpee drinks. They dont just dump some flavoring into some ice and call it a delicious frozen treat. No. These are made differently. They have some sort of carbonation added so theyre more light and airy than the inferior type. When you dispense them into the cup they inflate and spill all over you. It's part of the fun. And they usually come with one of those awesome spoon-straws so you can enjoy the whole thing all the way till the end, because you'll actually want to consume stuff at the bottom of these bad boys because it's actually edible and delicious. They cost a little more typically, but you get what you pay for- total frozen awesomeness.

So anyway, we're at the 7/11 (one of the lone places where you can still get the delicious types of slushie, along with random ones like some Burger Kings (con: limited flavor options and super expensive), the occasional circle k, and some targets (even more expensive)) getting our hard-earned slushies. I got the cream soda flavor, which was fantastic because I hate fruit-flavored frozen treats in general (soda flavors for the win), AND it was FUSCHIA. Happy, bright fuschia. Basically this stuff was pure joy.

So I get my big-ol' 42 ounce (Canada is weird about sizes), neon pink slushie and me and dad and mom sit and watch hobos (including one old guy wearing sunglasses with marijuana leaves painted on them- what a straight up gangster) and asians and the other residents of Vancouver walk by and we drank our slurpees and chatted and life was good.
For those of you who have never eaten around me, you should know that I am probably the world's slowest eater. I could probably go into Guiness book of world records for it. I think turtles probably eat faster than I do. And snails. And old people.
But anyway, I am ESPECIALLY slow when it comes to frozen stuff. I am easily prone to brain freezes and I don't like subjecting my brain to that kind of abuse after all it's done for me. So I eat slowly and carefully and enjoy the treat I got. Haters get upset with me for it, but they're haters so this is expected.
So I'm drinking my slushie and dad is like 3/4 of the way done with his and I'm like halfway. Maybe. Okay, more like 1/3. So dad decides it's probably time to head back and we took our slushies and started walking our bikes back.

Things were all fine and dandy until we got to the final stretch of the walk home- like a million flights of stairs. WITH A BIKE. AND A SLURPEE. But my dad didn't seem to mind and just started trekking down the steps like it was no biggie. I shrugged and followed, telling myself that if I could make it through the valley of death (aka like 5 minutes of slightly uphill biking in perfect weather) I could get down these stupid stairs. So I follow them and it's all good and then ON THE LAST LANDING BEFORE THE END MY SLURPEE SLIPPED OUT OF MY HAND AND EXPLODED ON THE SIDEWALK IN FRONT OF ME.

I kind of just sat there for a second and stared at the neon pink all over the sidewalk. It was legitimately heartbreaking. And, to make matters worse, there was a large group of canadian elderly taking a nice stroll, probably to go get delicious slurpees, and they saw the whole thing. There was a collective sound they made that was the sound of "awwwww, poor widdle girl dwopped her swurpee on the gwound" and that just made things worse and now I REALLY wanted to cry. My first instinct was to pick it up and throw the cup away atleast, because apparently I was turning into a hippie and Vancouver was wearing off on me. So I grab it and one of the old people was like "I don't think that's save-able little girl" or something along those lines but I just ignored her and said "i'll go throw this away" when really I shoud've probably thrown it at them and ran away crying. But anyway, I made the sad walk down the final, shortest flight of stairs and bid farewell to my delicious, only halfway finished, neon cream soda slurpee. My mom told me I should take a final sip but the damage had been done and I just needed to say goodbye. I threw it in the trash and picked up my bike like a freaking champ and began the sad, long walk back home. My mom asked if I was okay and I just said "I really want to cry right now for some reason." probably because I'm emotionally unstable. And also because here I am, technically an adult, out in the big bad world with my slurpee that I worked so hard for and it was cruelly taken from me prematurely. And when I dropped it I felt like a little kid, powerless while everyone pitied them and talked about that "poor little girl who dropped her slurpee at those stair things" for the rest of the day. Seriously, I'm not joking you guys, it was TRAUMATIZING. Terrible. A sad end to a fantastic day. But, whatever, I guess it was character building. Like, the universe saying WELCOME TO THE REAL WORLD, PUNK.

Rest in Peace, delicious cream soda Slurpee. 

July 10, 2013- July 10, 2013.