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! :)