About that...

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Please visit me there. Or don't. Whatever.

Bossy Diva

Shut up and embrace the sound of silence.

Toxic

I don't particularly enjoy getting conflicting messages on a daily basis... especially when dealing with important life matters.  But that's just me.

Nevertheless, I'm just going to sit here, drink my lemon drink, and watch whatever happens happen.  With a smile on my face for that matter.  So, I hope you don't have a problem with that.  I don't see why you would, but if you do... I'm sorry that your life is so tragic.

Midnights

So, I ate a lot of pasta and then went running.

I got a delicious pasta dish from this new place, Cafe Paesan, it's like Cafe Rio, but with Italian food (consensus: Tex Mex always wins, but irregardless, it was delicious).  I ate it... All of it.  It's not like a little bit of pasta either, it's like... A lot of pasta, okay?

Anyways, I ate all of the pasta and was lying in my bed, digesting, and started to think on how I didn't run today. Or stretch.  Or work on my fitness in general.  So I get in the car and head to Gold's.  And I get there, and I'm doing some biceps and triceps and hamstrings and all those fun things, and I'm feeling fine.  And then I start running.  Around 1.5 miles, I start to feel things working their way back up.  Not a fast pace or anything, just taking moseying on up with some gas bubbles.  "It's fine," I say, "I have a mile and half more to go."  And I keep running.  Well, around 1.75 miles, listening to the Killers live album that they recorded while doing a concert in London (amazing, by the way), things aren't looking to happy for the future.  So I stop running at 2 miles, and start walking... Yes, walking.  On a treadmill.  At Gold's Gym.  Who am I? Anyways... My stomach starts to calm itself and I says to myself, I says "That would have been one hot mess if I kept running."  And then I exited the gym.

That's all I have to say.  Nothing thoughtful.  Nothing insightful.  Get over it.

My Favorite Things

I packed my orange Ogio backpack with some picnic essentials: a sliced turkey sandwich on whole grain wheat bread with mayo, mustard, havarti cheese, and thick romaine lettuce; books, both a non-fiction (the scriptures), and a novel (Empire Falls); my iPod, fully charged; a freshly baked, homemade chocolate chip cookie (for just the right moment); and my Sigg water bottle filled with ice cold fridge water (I am a full supporter of reducing our dependency on plastics).  I took a drive up canyon road, after dropping a much needed package off at the BYU mail services, and stopped at the Mt. Timpanogas Park in Provo Canyon.  Seeing as it was a Wednesday afternoon, the park was completely desolate, with the exception of passers-by on the Provo River trail. 80 pristine acres of trees, pavilions, flowers, and freshly trimmed grass just for me. 

I picked a corner of the park with a golden view of the majestic peaks looming overhead, nestled beside a set of triplet trees.  The sun was beating, washing out the color of the canyon, and the air was hot.  Lying in the grass, headphones in and listening to Norah Jones, I cracked open my novel, started to read, and nibbled at the delectable turkey sandwich I prepared for myself.  With mysterious flying bugs landing on my sweet, moist skin, and sipping from my thermos-like water bottle, I could swear I was in another world.  I felt complete.  I felt like everything in the world was at peace.  It was a genuinely authentic experience, and I want to go back tomorrow.

I love anything authentic.  I believe that appreciating the authentic moments, authentic people, authentic objects and possessions we have in this life keeps us alive.  Anything authentic is alive and blossoming with beauty, even if the exterior isn't always appealing to the eye.

Oddly Shaped Shampoo Bottles.

My mom watches The Hills? What is happening??

Change the Culture.

Read this article. Just do it. Don't question it. Read it.

Now discuss.

Now, I don't believe that everyone should cancel their cable, as the television industry employs tens of thousands of Americans, but you should.  I would, if I had that power in my household. (But just cable, I'd keep the free channels... just in case)

Maniacal Monocle

Spectacles are sexy.  Do you have a pair?  I'm jealous.

Decent vision has its setbacks. No specs for these sapphires.  I don't want to hear your "fake eye glasses" argument.  It's not the same. You know it, I know it, and the optometrist will think I'm a tool for buying prescription-free frames.

Not to mention my abnormally large head.

Frames don't fit my face.  And by frames, I mean Ray Bans. 

So, wear your glasses with pride, and know that I will be admiring them.  Especially if they hold an RB logo. Wayfarer style.

Truth.

There can be no happiness if the things we believe in are different from the things we do.

- Freya Stark

Zest

Let's make life zesty.

Stop stressing.  Stop worrying.  Stop the negativity.

Find reasons to be happy.  I know I have.

Sure, things aren't ideal, but that's life.  Get over it.  Count your freaking blessings (you have a lot, trust me).

I know things haven't been ideal for me, but whatever, I have a loving and supportive family, good friends, a nice bed, delicious food, a pretty good relationship with God (don't judge my churchiness, cause I like it), and a million other things that so many other people don't have.  I am blessed.  I am happy.

***

So, friends, it's been a while.  Would you like an update? No? Well... that's too bad.

I came home from the MTC, it's true.  But I'll be back.  I loved it.  A lot.  I can't wait to be there again.

I am jobless.  I am looking.

I bought a gym membership (don't ask how they let me get a gym membership without a job... cause I don't know... but I get a few months free until I do get a job... good times)

My pants don't fit anymore.  My belt doesn't fit anymore.  And it's not because I gained, because I didn't... I lost.

I have $22.15 in my checking account.

How have you been?  Update me on your life, please.