Round Shoes and a Ponytail

HA! Sorry, can't start this story without laughing about it maybe a little bit. hehe. Alright, I'm composed. So, this weekend, my roommate's friend had a "People Who Don't Suck Party" which...as the name suggests is an event, that is held so people who don't suck, don't have to be around people who do suck. Sounds like a good plan right? I thought so too. I later learned that it's also useful tool for discovering that you, infact, do suck. :)

As much as we all love the internet, and beautiful things like Facebook, and how easy it is to send an e-vite, it doesn't always work well. I never actually recieved my invitation to the party, but was on the guest list anyway. Luckily, my roommate, Sarah, is in PR and is used to following up with people about things, so I recieved a verbal invite, a few short hours before. Realizing that Sarah was the only person that I'd know there, and she would know quite a few people, I tried to get some backup, hoping I could bring a small comfort group along with me and not feel so alone. However, short notice sucks, and only my friend Brian was able to come. Hooray for Brian! *NOTE: Brian is an important element in this story, hence the photo. It's also just a funny picture

I kind of knew the sort of people we'd be around, so I made sure to dress up a little bit with a sweater and nice pair of jeans, but I was hesitant to wear nice shoes, I like to dress up, but I always think it's fun, and more comfortable, to wear my Converse. However, I'd left them at Julie's house so the strappy black ones had to do. Finally, Brian arrived and we headed on our merry way around 8ish, and found ourselves thrown into a world neither of us had ever been. Everyone was dressed fashionably fabulous- and in season, the condo was something I would have imagined in NYC, complimented with an ambiance of mood lighting and music that somehow appealed to all, managing to be club-esque, with a hint of lounge - low enough for normal conversation, yet loud enough to simply listen if desired. There were a variety of sodas, of no recognizable brand, but with flavors comparable to IBC or Stewarts. We used real forks to eat our appetizers (which were, of course, posh) and some pretty impressive mini plastic plates. The only tackiness to be found was the Premium Selection brand popsicles brought by Brian and myself (Ok, he brought them, I mooched). I felt really ordinary, and self-consicous really quick.

Though I (just barely) looked the part, most of the time I felt like I couldn't say something unless it was adding substance and meaning to someone else's life, and considering most of what I say is useless and silly, I stayed pretty quiet. I had fallen to people watching, and occasionally commenting on someone else's conversation with Brian, finding quite a bit of comfort in the fact that I wasn't alone. Soon conversation had turned to what the guys liked in a girl, and to be honest, I wasn't really paying attention until quietly, almost to himself, Brian said "I like a girl with round shoes and a ponytail." Sarah and I were the only ones who caught it, and we looked at him with his little smile and laughed, because not only was it true, but a needed comfort. While I was there I felt simple, and common, and a started to feel the need to fit into that crowd. When Brian said that, I realized the simple confidence in his statement. I am a round shoes and a ponytail kind of girl. Yeah I like to get dressed up every now and then, but mostly, I'm pretty casual, and it's ok. In fact, not only do I like being that way, but I have friends who are like me, and think I'm pretty interesting. So interesting, that you're reading my blog!

Tender Mercies

So tonight I went to Institute (kind of like Mormon college, but free...) and I'm taking a "Teaching of the Living Prophets" class where we study talks given by Apostles and Prophets in our day. This week we talked about "The Tender Mercies of the Lord" by David A. Bednar. In my opinion, one of the best talks ever given. Discussing this talk, this evening, was in itself, a tender mercy from the Lord.

Most of my life I've claimed that I don't believe in coincidences, and since I first made that statement, that fact has been proven to me over and over. "The tender mercies of the Lord are real and...they do not occur randomly or merely by coincidence." They come subtley, and without warning or knowledge, and if we're not careful, we miss them all together. So many times we think we're alone, without purpose or direction, and that no one is ever listening, but these tender mercies are a loving Father's way of showing that when the rest of the world has given up on us, He is there. He loves you, He's paying attention, He wants to help, and most importantly, He's the only one with the capability to help when no one else can.

Elder Bednar defines tender mercies as "very personal and individualized blessings, strength, protection, assurances, guidance, loving-kindnesses, consolation, support, and spiritual gifts." All those words are great, but what do they actually look like? My tender mercies generally involve snow (especially in Georgia), letters, phone calls, a song on the radio, a package of tea and pastries, a breeze at just the right moment, the list goes on. Whatever they are, they're always chosen specifically for me at that specific moment. Today was not such a good day for me, and all I wanted to do by the end of the day, was go to Institute. Sister Healey (my faithful institute buddy) listened to me whine all the way up, the discussion we had was amazing, and I was living high my friends! As far as I was concerned, my evening was finished off perfectly. Until....Happy Hippos. For those of you who know me, I firmly believe that Happy Hippos are pretty much the best thing ever invented. They make me...well, happy! Suffice it to say. I love Healey for randomly having them in her car. You're a rockstar. :)

All You Need is Love

So Saturday was Valentine's Day. Ya know, the day about love and relationships, where men buy large amounts of meaningless gifts that they really don't care about - just to make girls happy? Yeah, that one. In my almost 23 years of living, I've had a "valentine" once. The rest of the time I walked around and moaned and complained about being single. While the rest of my friends rode off into the sunset with Prince Charming, I sat at home watching my sappy chick-flick collection wondering how it was possible that Ewan McGregor choose the "beautiful courtesan" over me; when clearly I would have supported him for who he was: a broke, hopelessly bohemian writer.

This Valentine's Day, however, something changed. As the dreaded day approached, I encountered tons of ill feelings about the holiday. Plenty of Facebook statuses counting down the days to ultimate misery, others who vocally expressed their distaste for the opposite sex, and more than enough comments about how it's a holiday made up by the greeting card companies. I found myself sucked in by the cynicism of everyone around me. I had become a royal V-Day Scrooge, about to be visited by the Ghost of Valentine's Present.

One of my mission companions had proposed a ladies night, and I was totally down with "sticking it to the man" by not having a man. To be honest, I was anticipating a repeat of previous V-Day evenings, only with more people involved. In bitterness I quietly reassured myself that I didn't need a guy to make me happy... and that I wasn't bitter.

When it was time for said party, I made sure to look as cute as possible, threw together my salad, and headed over to Healey's house. Upon arrival I was greeted warmly by 6 of my closest friends (all looking fabulous), and the place completely decked out in Valentine's Day decorations. We all ate dinner, had dessert, and then launched into games that made me laugh harder than I've done in a long time. There's something about hanging with the girls. Sisterhood is the best feeling in the world. No one gets you as a woman, like another woman... it sounds logical, but until you get it, you just don't get it.

Through the whole experience, I learned that Valentine's Day isn't so much about having a boyfriend (or girlfriend for my male readers), it's about one thing. Love. Sometimes we become culturally caught up in life, and define things that need not be defined. Who says you need to have a sweetheart to be happy on Valentine's Day? And who says you need to listen to that person? No one. Life is about living, it's about being happy. The world is going to turn the same no matter what our relationship status is, so we may as well find excuses to be happy instead of searching for reasons to be miserable. All we need is love, who cares if it comes from your best friend, your mom, or even your cat. At least you have it, and the least you can do is spread it.

It's All About Me.

So. Welcome to my blog. :) Why am I starting one you may ask? I don't really know... Inspiration? Desperation? Desire to fit in and be one of the crowd? Perhaps all of the above. Who knows? Who cares? Nevertheless, it exists. And, you can keep up with my life because of it! Yay! You don't even need to talk to me. Just hop on this bad boy and you're good to go! It's like we've been BFF our whole lives. :)

Anyway. About me. This is me.

In all of my varying....ness. If you closely examine these photos, you can learn quite a bit about my personality actually. For Instance, I really like bananas. Just kidding.

For reals this time. I'm 23 year old massage therapist, originally from a small town in Michigan called Escanaba, which means I'm actually a hick. Those Jeff Foxworthy jokes: not just about the South my friend. While I embrace the country girl within, it's not what I most ascribe myself to. You'll find I'm quite sensitive, and my mom often says I was born out of my era. While I myself am a Latter-Day Saint (Mormon), I often adopt a very free-spirited, hippie-like perspective of the world. Which, in my opinion, is just the way our good friend Jesus wanted it. We're meant to love everyone, and try our hardest to improve the world in our realm of existence. He knew the end from the beginning, but instead of saying "Well, they're gonna kill me so I may as well not even try." He did everything He could to lift those around Him, and make the world a better place. Even if others disagreed with Him, or didn't accept His message. Love is the key. See what I mean? Jesus-lovin' hippie I am. :)

I'm the middle of 3 kids. My older sister, Kayela, is in the army and over the last few months has discovered a hidden love for computers. She was the first one of us to bless my mom with what she really wants out of life, grandchildren. My nephew, Spencer is quite possibly the cutest thing I've ever seen in my life. I could squeeze him all day.

Seriously? Adorable? I know. That face almost convinced me to move to North Carolina just so I could play with him everyday. He's probably the happiest baby I've ever met too. In the two weeks that I was with him I think he was fussy once. It's a strange thing, having kids. Don't get me wrong, I think kids are cute 'n all, and I like to be around them, but when I'm done, I'm done. But there's something about this little guy, and it's not just because he's so stinking cute. It's because he's almost a part of me. I'm pretty sure this little guy and I were friends before this life, and I know he's been watching over us until now. He's completely transformed the entire family...heck, he could have his own blog. Suffice it to say, I love him. :) Now I'm crying.

That's the other thing about me. I cry. A lot. What can I say? It's a gift.

Moving on, my brother. Ah, my little brother, Alex. He's not really that little. In fact he's been beating me up since he could walk. Probably before. That just proves two things. He likes to horse-around, and I don't. That's his way of showing affection. He sees you, picks you up, throws you over his shoulder, and then goes to the kitchen for some food. He'll carry you around for a while until you stop screaming and flailing, and then he'll throw you on the couch and tickle you (he likes the screaming and flailing) until someone gets hurt, or you pee your pants. Whatever comes first. The only real defense has to come early on. As soon as he starts attacking, poke him in the belly-button. Not real hard, just make contact. For some reason, it freaks him out. No one knows why. He's a diesel mechanic, and he's really good at it. He taught me to put an alternator belt on my car while he was in Tennessee and I was in Utah. Impressive, I know. He also lost 6 inches of his left leg, and now has a prosthetic, which, as you can see, is quite cool. He's made an amazing recovery, and lives a completely normal life...except that he can take his leg off and pass it around the dinner table.

My parents are pretty awesome too. We've had our ups and downs, but a funny thing happens when you grow up, you learn to love and respect your parents. You learn that they really just raised you the best they knew how. Mine were divorced when I was 13, and I thought my life was over, but it really taught me how to overcome adversity. When things get hard, you keep going, because that's all you can do. Both of my parents are extremely independent, and therefore, have made sure all three of us are the same way, and we don't depend on anyone else for our needs. They're both simple, small-town individuals, who are comfortable with life, and being where they are. There's something to be said for being content in a small-town world. Growing up, I never questioned that I was loved. Both of them had different ways of showing that they loved me, my dad is very affectionate and hands on. He likes to give hugs, and whisker rubs (I hate that last one), while my mom loves to give meaningful, as well as useful gifts. We never wanted much, and we always had what we needed. Through the struggles we had together, and I had with each of them independently, I became the person I am today. I person that I think they can both be proud of.

Alright, so maybe that was actually all about my family, but they say you can't really know who you are unless you know where you come from, and I think the same can be said for knowing others. You can't understand me, unless you understand my family. Crazy as they are, I love them, and sometimes it is hard being far away, but there's something about that hippie inside that just can't stay in one place too long. :) So stay tuned, for the next edition! :)