Quitter

Okay. Time for a creeper post. Haha.

So today I went to Nauvoo. On the way up to Columbia (where the Relief Society was meeting to go to Nauvoo) I was listening to my iPod, and a particular song came up. It's called "Quitter" by Carrie Underwood. Now, granted, I love this song for it's fantastical chorus which is oh-so-fun to sing along with in the car. But I had been thinking about possibly seeing that one friend of mine, and how my mom has been telling me that I need to make more of an effort... and I realized I'm kind of a quitter. In fact, I might not even try hard enough to be considered a quitter. Which honestly is a little pathetic.

But here's the thing: most of the reasons I randomly stop being totally into guys (such as that one friend) are totally invalid, or are started by one awkward Facebook picture, or one creepy dream I had, or seeing them go on dates with other people. And these are totally irrational things, but once they seed, I kind of let them grow and then the poor guys can't do anything right. It's terrible. I think part of it is that I don't really try. I quit, I give up, I move on out because (CLICHE ALERT) I'm scared. Yep. I said it. Don't be offended or lame-d out. Keep listening to me :)

I got thinking about the phrase "let the chips fall where they may." Now, after researching this, I have discovered that it originates from woodcutters needing to focus on cutting trees down, and not paying attention to where the chips fall. But I suppose I'm of a more worldly mindset, because when I think of chips falling, I think of Vegas and poker chips and hefty guys with pinstriped suits and fat cigars. So when I hear, "let the chips fall where they may," I imagine a shower of poker chips and it's kind of awesome. But as I was thinking about it, I thought, You don't just drop a handful of poker chips. You play the game, and let them fall to whoever wins the hand. And there's no possibility for reward unless you play the game. You have got to play the game. You don't have to put all your chips in at once. Not every game is the "big leagues," and it's okay if you lose some here or there. But the fact is that you can't get anything out unless you put something in. You have to make an effort, not be lackadaisical.

And I have not been playing the game. I've been sitting around with a handful of cards, not putting anything on the line, and it's not getting me anywhere.

A couple months ago, I would have excused myself for not being an active player in the game. And all of my excuses would have been valid. I was stressed out about my scholarship, summer was fast approaching, I was homesick, I was feeling pretty immature, and I was freaked out about a lot of things, including the many people around me who were biting the bullet and doing things that I presently consider completely revolting (laugh all you want, you know you're thinking the exact same thing). My mom used to tell me that she thought that, if freshman year was the time for me to get married, then I wouldn't shy away from it. But oh me oh my, I would have shied. Hard. Because when I think about marriage, I think about having to care about someone forever, having to make the most important decision of my entire life, having to clean up after someone else and worry about their life and be responsible for them and be physically involved with them (which, let's be honest here, makes me want to lose my cookies all over the place).

So as I'm sitting in the temple, and I've been thinking about my commitment issues all day, and kind of been a little nervous-excited about possibly seeing my amigo, and talking to all these girls who were teen brides ... and then I realized that marriage is a commandment. And when I think about marriage, all I think about are the negative things listed above, the fluffy lovebirdy stuff (which I guess is okay), and the actual wedding part with the cake and the bridesmaids and the ring and (swoon) the dress. So basically everything that is either completely temporary, or lasting things in a negative light, or stuff that sucks, or anything that will make me responsible for any future misery ... or any mixture of those. And I realized that there is so much more to it than just "aw I love you and I want to love you and kiss you and hug you forever." It's WAY more than that. Granted, all of the things that suck (family budgeting, anyone? BLECH) are also a part of it. But really, who cares? There's a whole picnic of deliciousnesses and all I can think about are the buzzing flies and the questionable looking jello. Stupid me.

As I said, a couple of months ago, I didn't want to bother being an active player, because even though I vaguely wanted to get married (because everyone wants to get married), it seemed like something I wouldn't want to do for a long, long time, if at all. I had so many mental barriers that I figured it would take some huge emotional alarm clock going off to get me to even give the possibility of it a real chance. At times, I seriously thought I'd be okay with not getting married at all.

But now, I'm thinking ... I actually DO want to get married. Seriously. And for the first time in my life, I want a marriage more than a wedding. (Warning: This may pass. I may end up wanting a wedding just as much as a marriage within the next couple of days ;) Haha).

And here's another thing. Marriage is a COMMANDMENT. So you know how it doesn't really count if you just vaguely think, "Oh scriptures are good" and kind of wait for them to fall into your lap and start reading themselves to you? Same concept. If you want the blessings of scripture reading, you actually have to do it. Likewise, if you want to have the blessings of a temple marriage, you can't just wait around for someone to come along and fall in love with you and marry you. You've got to be a part of the game, make an effort, and when someone awesome comes along, don't tell yourself, He's alright. He's a great guy, but this and this and this don't really mesh well with me blah blah blah. Okay. STUPID. I mean, obviously there are times when you know you absolutely can't deal with something (i.e. drinking, swearing, smoking, immorality, porn addiction, really really ugly smelly corn-covered feet, etc.), but for the most part, I think it's surprising the kinds of people we can get along with when we are willing to let ourselves get to know them, and if we're willing to make an effort. I mean, after all, you're pretty much looking for a permanent roommate ;) So I think there are more concessions that you have to be willing to make (not suggesting that I ever had to make any concessions or anything, but you know what I mean). Focus more on the good qualities than the nitpicky, unimportant details. Plus, if you're living right and keeping God in the loop, He isn't going to let you screw up and marry the wrong person. I mean, HELLO. That'd be a total rip off. It's the biggest decision of your life and He isn't going to abandon you!! :)

I thought about the past couple of guys I've gone on dates with. And there were a lot of things at play that killed my interest (most of which were my fault), but I think the biggest flaw in my dating strategy was that I was trying to get another date, and not trying to really get to know the person or build up any sort of relationship with them. And, although I usually got more dates, in the end, it really didn't add up to much. I didn't really make much of a real effort, and I wasn't really playing the game. I didn't allow myself to put much at stake, and so there were little to zero returns on those minimal efforts that I made. And I guess that was understandable, since I didn't really have a goal in mind. I was just kind of mindlessly wandering through the dating world. But now that I know solidly what I'm shooting for, now that I grasp (if only just slightly) the absolute awesomeness of it, things are gonna change. I'm leaps and bounds closer to seeing myself in that position, with who knows who way sooner (not sure how soon though) than I would ever have expected. And you know what? I'm really okay with it. Really, really okay :)

Complainy-wainy

I felt bad complaining more on Twitter, so I've come to Blogger to complain.

Alright. So my day was pretty bad. Well, mostly my evening was really bad. I have serious FHE problems, and I was really grumpy during FHE. After the lesson was over, my little sister wanted to play Apples to Apples. I really don't like Apples to Apples. It's really boring unless you're playing with the right people. My family is not the right people to play Apples to Apples with. Anyways, I was super tired and I was sitting in the chair and I was going to take a little napski while they all played A2A. My mom was like, "Kayla come on and play Apples to Apples" and I said I didn't want to. She told me that I could either play A2A or wash dishes. I thought she was kidding, but I was kind of annoyed that she'd even suggested such a thing. So I went into the sunroom and laid on the couch and the cat took a nap on my stomach. All was well. And then my mom came in and started yelling at me for not washing the dishes. Let's also point out that our dishwasher is broken, so every single stinking dish, fork, knife, spoon, cup, measuring cup, etc. has to be washed by hand. And she had every intention of making me do it all by myself. Which, you know, I wouldn't have really minded doing except that she was punishing me for not playing Apples to Apples when I was already pissed off before they even started playing. So naturally, I'm like, angry beyond my ability to even contain it, and since I couldn't like, throw stuff at the wall, I started crying and my mom and I get in this huge fight because since when do people get punished for not wanting to play games?? WHAT THE HECK MOM?!?!?!?!? Gosh. Just thinking about it makes me want to scream. Ugh. And she was like, "I thought saying that would make you choose playing the game" which means that making me do the dishes was just to like, prove her own authority over me. UGH. I hate power struggles. Especially when they happen over the fact that I didn't want to play a stupid card game. That is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard.**see note at end of post**

Ben Barnes, take me away from this.

I've been wishing I was at school for a couple of days, just because being home is not all it's cracked up to be. At least, not when I'm stuck at home all day. When I'm going to the student ward and going to work and stuff, it's really not so bad. It's when I have to hang out at home all day. I need some friends that I can hang out with. Mucho mucho mucho.

Anyways. That's kind of the main background to what I really want to complain about.

So I'm coming down the stairs with my quilt in one hand, my computer in another, and a tortilla and a granny smith apple tucked in and about my person. The apple falls all the way from the top step and bounces really hard. I could practically hear it bruising as it went down. Then I go down stairs, and just as I get to the bottom, I put my foot down and my ankle twists so I come down on the side of my foot. Because both of my hands were full, I couldn't grab anything, and I fall all the way down on the floor, and hear my foot crack about 20 or so times. It was disgusting. And it hurt like the dickens. Then I tried to stand up and go up the stairs to figure out what to do to prevent it from swelling or anything, and that hurt even worse. So now I've got a ziplock back full of ice wrapped around my foot with one of those long, tan stretchy bandages that's really old and smells like Icy Hot. Yuck.

It's a bad, bad night.




**SIDE NOTE** My cousin, about five years ago (when she was my age), after having been baptized a couple of months earlier, moved out of her mom's house over a dish washing-related argument. She moved in with her friend, they copulated for a while, and then she moved into her new boyfriend's house. They copulated and conceived a child, who is now about 4 years old. My cousin is now living with her next boyfriend/fiancé, and she's already pregnant with his child. The moral of the story: dish washing arguments can end disastrously. Thank goodness I have no desire to copulate, and no one to move in and copulate with. Blech. 

Copy of an Fbook Note

Some random-o Twitter account posted this quote a couple of minutes ago:

"It’s amazing how one day someone walks into your life and then you can't remember how you lived without them."

I would like to submit a response to this quote:

"It's amazing how one day someone walks completely out of your life and then you can't remember how you lived with them."

Pessimistic? Yes. Bee-yatchy? Maybe.

False? Not in the slightest.

Skanks.

This Post Protected On: 27 October 2010

Show encrypted text

Clichés and Things

I've been thinking a lot about clichés lately. Mostly that we're all just a part of the clichés, whether we embrace them, or hate ourselves for secretly wanting to embrace them and so we rebel against them completely. I don't mean to suggest that we're all the same, or that we're not unique. But I do think that, for the most part, we are. A lot of what makes us different is which clichés we allow ourselves to embrace, and which ones we push back against. I'm willing to admit myself to be a huge cliché. I'm like the biggest cliché BYU student ever. Except for about the head sweaters. My hatred of those is pure, and not remotely tainted by a secret desire to wear one. But I digress. We're all so cliché. That's how they happen, isn't it?


Let's get on to something different though. I just listened to a song that talked about this girl and how this one guy will always have a special place in her heart because he was her first love. I've heard a lot of people say that, ya know, in movies and stuff. Or just in general. And let me tell you, that's all complete and utter B.S. Any girl who leaves a spot in her heart for her first love is not over him yet. Which, you know, is cool if you marry your first love. But hanging on to that is just ridiculous, even if you say you're "over it," you're not. It's SUCH A LIE. Just saying.

Okay. Now I've had my rant session. I'm gonna listen to some NPR now, just to ... clear my head.

I've Got Chic in My Pants.

So this is super gross, and I wasn't going to post it ... but I can't help it anymore. I can't keep this to myself. And so, from a couple of weeks ago, I give unto you The Poop Story:

There is one thing standing between me and having children. Actually, that's a lie ... at this point, there are several things, including lack of a husband, lack of willingness to engage in The Nasty, and some other things, but let's ignore all that and pretend none of it exists.


I can't have children because I can't handle their poop.

This is not a joke. I babysat today and I realized I had to change the little girl's diaper. I thought I could get away with pretending that it happened just moments before her mom got home, but no success. Also, the stink of it was giving me a headache. So, of course, before even opening the diaper I start gagging/dry heaving. Heavily. Then I open it, see the horrific mess, and proceed to throw up. With my mouth shut. Naturally, I'm then grossed out both by what's in my mouth and what's in front of my face, but I just... well ... I swallowed it.

Then it came back up again. And I swallowed it again. This isn't a little trickle of vomit. My whole mouth was full of it. I'm not joking here.

Finally, that whole mouthful and then some more decide to come back up, and I couldn't handle it. So I went and paid homage to the porcelain god before returning and finishing the nasty poop problem.

You probably don't want to know any of this, but I'll just tack this on. I threw up in my mouth again after the whole ordeal was over, while I was chugging glasses of water down trying to get the flavor of vomit out of my mouth. It was disgusting. And you know how your tongue cramps up when you dry heave and when you throw up? Yeah. Still is a little crampy and painful and it's been like an hour and a half. I hate poop. So much.




So yeah ... that's my super disgusting story. Don't get me wrong, I love kids. But I'm waiting for someone to invent some kind of vacuum-bidet that you can strap on a baby's lower portion, turn on, and have it suck off the diaper and swish the baby's tush clean. After that comes into being, I might consider having children. I would also be willing to wait until I'm stunningly rich and can hire someone to do the dirty work for me. Blech.


Well, let's leave this stinky story on a good note, shall we?





Hi-larious.

Hola Sunday!

So technically it's Sunday now ... but I guess I don't count Sundays normally. On Sunday nights, I count midnight as the end of the day. On Saturday nights, it's more like Sunday starts when I wake up the next morning. It's after midnight, but as far as I'm concerned, it's still Saturday night. Am I disobeying the letter of the law? Or, rather, failing to interpret Sunday according to the letter of the law? Yeah, kind of. Am I failing to interpret Sunday according to the spirit of the law? Yeah, probably that too. Whatever.

Alright. Anyone out there who was informed of the awkward dream I had involving that one person where he and I were watching CNN whilst clothed merely in t-shirts and, in my case, panties, and, in his case, tighty-whities? Well, if not, there's the jist of it. Anyways, I had a dream about him AGAIN. And I was like, what that's weird. We went to Shakespeare's Pizza. I guess it wasn't too weird. I mean, at least we were both clothed normally. And I'm pretty sure that somewhere in that dream I was also involved with Cory Monteith. ...

Apparently my subconscious is really into show-y choirs. Regardless, it was really random because I only rarely think about either of those people anymore. More about Cory Monteith, since he's on TV and all. ... Weird. Just weird. And other weird coincidences, which I will explain to anyone willing to listen to me blabber.

And now  I will import my most recent Facebook status, just to make this complaint session a little quicker:

getting a cold in MAY (wtheck??) + phone on the verge of death + ON scheduling you on Sunday AGAIN (even though you did not include Sunday on your availability sheet) = weekend - happiness - relaxation ... but + hearing Hugh Jackman say your name in Wolverine ;)

Ahhh yes.  Okay. Here we go ... now it goes to bullet points.

• I have a cold. It's May. I didn't know that it was possible to get a cold in May. And yes, it sucks. It sucks hard core. I could go into all the multifarious symptoms that have been plaguing me all day, but I will spare you. 
• My phone developed narcolepsy today. Literally, it can't retain consciousness. Can I fully explain to you how much I do not want to buy another phone, even a refurbished one, for $130?? I'm going to have to go with NO. No, I can't. At least not using the internet. I'd have to make a video and scream and shout and throw things. I want to break things and cry and be pissed off at it for being such a piece of crap. Ugh. Makes me so mad. And it's giving me a headache. Oh wait, that's my sinus headache... but it's probably being amplified by my phone annoyances. 
• Once again, Old Navy scheduled me on Sunday. Now, I let it slide last week because we had a guest manager who made the schedule and he didn't look at anyone's availability. But this week I don't see how there's any excuse. I'm really cheesed. I have to miss third hour because I've got to have enough time to make the huge-o drive from the student ward and get changed before going to work. I've got to work up some nerve and stand up to these people ... They're getting to be freakin' annoying, honestly. 
• So basically my weekend has sucked. And tomorrow will probably suck because I've got to get up an hour earlier than I usually do so I can drive all the way to the student ward and then I have to leave there early to get to work on time and not leave right in the middle of somebody's lesson, and then I have to go to work (which I'm really starting to hate, by the way. Seriously ... it's not a fun place. People are always yelling at you and telling you to do things which are counterintuitive to your nature) and I have to be there until 7 p.m. and then I'll come home and want to curl up in a ball and die because I have to work 8 hours on Monday. The temptation to use strong expletives is great right now.  Just so you know, I'm really fired up about this. I mean gosh dangit Monday is Memorial Day and I'm going to be stuck there for 8 hours. EIGHT FREAKING HOURS. I'm probably going to miss the freaking ward picnic. Oddly enough, I'm so exhausted and frustrated and upset right now I could practically cry about that stupid picnic. WHY AM I SUCH AN EMOTIONAL WRECK?? I'm on hormone replacement therapy for three major hormones, so none of them can provide an explanation for this. Now that I think about that, I'm just glad those are stable because if they weren't, I'd probably already be crying and I'd do something to make it really dramatic and ultra-depressing. Maybe. It's hard to tell. 
• Anyways, the only real good thing about my day (besides a certain Fbook message which I will discuss with my dearest lovely meilleures amies at a later date) was that Wolverine's girlfriend was named Kayla. Also, she had awesome powers. But now I have a mental recording of Hugh Jackman saying my name... swoon. He's a hottie. But the Wolverine movie was such a waste of talent. Good heavens. ...
• SPOILER ALERT
• SPOILER ALERT
• SPOILER ALERT
• I mean really. You kill off Dominic Monaghan and give Ryan Reynolds a miniscule (albeit ridiculously awesome and attractive) part?? Those were two huge mistakes, that's for sure. And apparently Ryan Reynolds' character becomes Weapon XI or something, except that part (the Weapon XI part) got played by a different actor. Regardless, two of my favorite people's characters are dead. 
• END OF SPOILERS
• END OF SPOILERS
• END OF SPOILERS
• Why would I want to watch X-Men after that?? (Yes, I've seen it. Maybe not no.2 ... but certainly only once, and I didn't bother to remember it very well.) Granted, Hugh Jackman is very attractive. Very, very, very attractive ... but I wouldn't watch an entire totally action movie based on his facial-hair-y, man-tank-top-y, feral presence. If I'm going to sit through 50 fights, I want to get my time's worth of good looking men. Is that too much to ask?  Whatever. It was amusing. Not enough to make up for my ultimately crappy day, but at least it was something that didn't completely suck.

Well, that's about it. It's approaching 1:30, so even though I had a ton more on my mind, I'm too exhausted to write it. And beyond that I'm painfully ill. Maybe it will be a blessing and will get me out of work early tomorrow or something. Please. For the love of Pete. I don't want to gooooooooooo ............. (<--read that in your best "Dramatic Reading of a Real Break-up Letter" voice)

Good night. Or, rather, good morning. Happy Saturday Night ... er... Sunday. Whatever. Your call.