Ex-Boyfriend & His CD

I rummaged through my stash of DVDs looking for Ella Enchanted so Jane, Dawn, and I could watch and share our mutual hatred for the movie (more like J + D hated on it while I somehow felt obligated to defend all the awkward kissing slash singing scenes).

Then I found a CD. From an ex-boyfriend. Well, Chelsea's ex-boyfriend, to be exact.

Let me explain the context. Once upon a time, Chelsea dated Boy X (think Idaho, well-combed hair, side parting). He was a model PP* and probably rescued a cat from a tree predicament, so she affectionately dubbed him "a heroic angel"  (don't know how to defend this one).

Well he liked her so he decided to burn her a CD. And think of an equally satisfying nickname.

This was what happened:

I don't know what kills me more: the fact that he continued the angel theme or that he felt the necessity of qualifying the gender of angels.

Oh, young sophomore love. 

---


* Peter Priesthood

What Friendship Means to an Eleven Year Old

Have I ever bragged about my sister Jody before? She's eleven. Smart. Beautiful. Sassy. And she is an amazing writer.

She wrote this poem about friendship the other day:

A friend can be anyone,

Anyone who respects you.

A friend can be your next door neighbor,

A person who did a kind favor,

Or even your enemy.

Having a friend is like putting batteries into a clock,

Or sailing a boat in a dock.

Take this away and what do you have?

A clock that doesn’t work and an empty dock.

A person who doesn’t have a friend is like a book with no pages,

A sky with no sun,

 A pen with no ink,

Or having no blanket in a cold, windy night.

Give a good fight?

‘Tis is wrong.

-----

Essentially, a friend is "anyone who respects you," even your enemy.  

I've never thought of that before. That forces me to wonder --  am I a true friend? Am I patient with those around me when I am stressed? Do I listen to their ideas, and really think about them, even if I don't agree? Can I love my friends the way they are, without trying to mold them into somebody I think I might like better?

When an eleven year-old teaches you about life (beyond the fact that boys have infectious diseases), it's humbling. And reminds me of these wonderful people who somehow want to be my friends:

 We have fun being awkward together. 

I look up to these girls so much.

My best friends. I could not have made it through college without my siblings (+ JC).

I don't think they will ever know how much they mean to me.

 Kenji. Sticks with me during those stressful moments. 

He teaches me how to have fun (that does not involve econometrics).

I am still working on that.

 We love each other. Enough said.

 

A Cutting Look

My parents know that whenever they call me during my Sunday cooking sessions that I will either 1. slice my finger along with the tomatoes or 2. drop the phone because hot oil just hit my eye. Note that this only happens when I'm talking on the phone with my mom. I just get distracted.

This Sunday, I was frying chicken. Deep frying. Dawn pointed out the fact that I had already talked to my mom so I would be safe. I prided myself on my perfect timing. I was invincible.

Then as I was reaching for the last piece of breaded chicken, my mom called back.

The rest was history. I accidentally dropped the piece of meat straight into the scalding bubbling hot oil. And in protest, the chicken splashed the oil all over my arm. I yelped and burned while Hwanhi and Dawn rushed to relieve me of the stuff I was holding.

They ripped through my mom's 72 hour kit and wrapped me up with layers of gauze.

The biggest burn was on my wrist. And guess what shape it was in?

A chicken thigh. 

----

The next day, I felt self-conscious so I removed most of the gauze around my elbow and just kept the one on my wrist.

I walked into my English class and barely plopped my bag down when the girl next to me pointed to my wrist and gasped,

"What happened to your . . .?"

 
She never finished her sentence. Then suddenly sympathetic, she asked,"how is life?"

Me: Well kind of stressful. I feel like things are spiraling out of control.

Girl (with a firm squeeze right on my burnt wrist and a knowing empathetic look): You can do this.

She sneaked another look at my clearly DIY wrist gauze job again.

Wow. She thought I was cutting.

Who We Really Are Inside

I was originally going to dress up as the Provo bubble. 

But making a costume out of garbage bags and duct tape was harder than I thought.

So one hour before the party, I rummaged through my closet 

and transformed into Chun Li the street fighter. 

Any guesses what Nate and Hwanhi were?

 My vote was drumming waiter vs. red-headed housewife. 

Apparently they were Ricky & Lucy from the 1950s sitcom I Love Lucy.

 Duh. Of course.

With Jesse, our P90X lego cowboy.

Of course, Justin just showed up in his PT gear. 

If I ever run for office and need to court the NRA vote, 

I guess I have just the right photo for my campaign.

Kim Jong-il and his favorite girls.

Happy Love Day!

I don't understand why some people hate Valentine's Day. They mutter "Happy Single Awareness Day (SAD)" and wear black, determined to reverse the tide of romantic pinks or passionate reds. Awareness Days have a bad connotation in my mind - AIDs awareness day, Autism awareness day, Hunger awareness day . . . in short, somehow singledom has been designated a disease or a widespread phenomenon that the UN is supposed to eradicate by 2015. To me, Valentine's Day isn't only reserved for lovers and couples - it's for everybody. It is this wonderful day to celebrate love, in any form and with anyone.

I think this is the first year since eighth grade that I haven't had a boyfriend or received presents from boys on Valentine's Day. I suppose that's not a surprise when things end shortly before. Rather than feeling depressed as many of my friends, and to some extent even I, expected me to be, I ended up really enjoying Valentine's Day. In the place of romantic dinners and cheesy cards, I received long-stemmed roses from the Elder's Quorum, munched on wonderfully decorated sugar cookies (Ty!), and attended a fun Chinese New Year party. I also caught up with old friends and talked to my family. I felt loved. Very loved.

So in the spirit of St. Valentine's, here's a shout out to some of my favorite people:

The Triumvirate: Love these girls!
Of course, we're not complete without Bel.

You mean more to me than you probably realize.

These girls change my life. Literally.

I won't be much without them.

I miss you!
Come back soon - but not too soon :P

I still think you're absolutely wonderful -
Thanks for being my best friend!

SOS

This is an SOS in case I need one. I'm locked out of my house and nobody's home. So, instead of trudging back to school, I'm sitting out in the dark on my front porch right now, huddling around my laptop for light. And amusement. My overactive imagination jumps at every little noise. Like the rustling in the bushes that made me think somebody is going to jump out at me? Just a couple strolling by. But since I'm bored, I'm sending out a SOS in the event that a bonafide kidnapper really does come for me. Or I guess I can make this my will as well - Dawn, you can have all my clothes. But at least wait two weeks to see if I come home ok?

What happens in Vegas

What happens in Vegas . . .

You can probably tell after reading my Subway post that I really need to work on being more spontaneous. So in an effort to throw all caution to the wind, I agreed to go on a random road trip to Las Vegas last weekend, not knowing quite what was going to happen or where I was going to sleep. Being a bunch of squeaky-clean Mormon kids, we spiced up all the Casino touring with a good dose of Utah fun, a.k.a. photo scavenger hunts. Random people would jump in our photos and one even asked for a kiss from a girl in our group. We finally succumbed to peer pressure at 3 a.m. in the morning - in order to fit in a little more, we all went and bought slurpees at 7/11 just so that we would have something to drink as well. Vegas was also the one place where I was so keenly conscious that I was underage. It also didn't help that I didn't have my I.D. with me half the time :P



My roommate, Dawn, and I were about to head back with our original group the next day when we realized that our stuff were locked in a hotel room and the people who had the key were gone bailing another member of our group out of jail. Ok, that was an exaggeration, but he was detained by the police in a holding cell. He got out fine but that meant that our ride left and we were left in Vegas for another day. More drama ensued but eventually we made it home safe and sound. This last spontaneous stint was very uncharacteristic of me but at least not I'm one step closer to being more comfortable out of my comfort zone.

Stays in Vegas

Las Vegas is gaudy. Everything is bright and over the top. Everywhere I looked was loud makeup, exaggerated laughs, and extremely tight outfits. Billboards scream for your attention and every casino was designed to lure in those lucky few who could win hundreds or those unlucky many who would lose thousands. Sometimes, I'm embarrassed to look left or right, so I stare at the ground instead, which is even worse, as it is covered by calling cards. It is a city where people lose their inhibitions, conforming to the general practice of playing to your lowest denominator. As I walked by one casino, I heard over the loudspeaker an ad that went something like this, "Show the world that you are a sinner. Let us tempt you." I could not have summed up Vegas better myself.

When we got home to Provo, I threw all my smokey Vegas clothes in the laundry immediately. What happened in Vegas can stay in Vegas, thank you very much.