I am sick and tired

of being sick and tired. I am finishing up my 12th day of being sick, and I think I am finally starting to feel better. I am sure I would be feeling much better if I could sleep through the night, but I've had a really bad sore throat for 7 days now (it's not strep) which means I do not sleep through the night. I love sleep, but my recent sleep habits would not prove this fact, in fact they might suggest I actually hate sleeping and think it's a waste of time. But nope, that's how I feel about peeing.

Here's a weird thing I experienced while being sick. I went to the Student Health Center a couple of times and each time I was there someone sat RIGHT NEXT TO ME even though the rest of the lobby was empty. What? Why would someone do that? I mean, I know that not only sick people go in there, but I definitely look sick. A little better than death, but not much. So why, oh why would someone choose to sit next to me if there is an abundance of other seating options? I get annoyed when people sit right next to me on a regular day, but when I'm sick? I wanted to just be left alone. I should've breathed my nasty breath on them.

One thing I wish I could've had while sick was the eggnog my mom used to make me whenever I was sick.



I've made a couple things here and there between these and that cake, but they weren't picture worthy. But then I found this recipe for Pumpkin Whoopie Pies and I not only wanted to try it, I wanted to document it. I only ran into one problem...not enough flour. So, I had to cut the recipe in half which is probably a good thing because that means there were only 6 for me to eat.

Mmm....pumpkin, and sugar, and spices! Oh my!
Yes, the batter was delicious. I have to taste it to make sure it's worth baking.
This was the stuff for the yummy filling.
All finished and put together. I'm not sure this picture does them justice. They were sooooo Yummy and pumpkin-y and soft. The only downside is that each one is like eating two cookies at once. So really instead of only eating 6 it was like eating 12. But they tasted like fall so I had to do it.


I got my shoes tied tight...I hope I don't get in a fight

Well, school started again. So far this quarter has really kicked my butt, then flipped over my twitching body and pummeled me in the stomach with an added bonus kick in the head. It's been awesome.
I'm not even finished with my second week yet, and I'm already about 100 pages behind on my reading. Which might not sound like a big deal, but it'll add up REALLY fast if I don't take control of it soon and stop letting it get the best of me.
Here is something new for me: I've spoken up in my Psychology of Women class multiple times already. The last time I said something I even managed to get through it without turning turnip red. I was so proud of myself. I guess maybe I finally realized that I might as well speak up, other people do and they usually sound like idiots. I might think too highly of myself but I'm like 99% sure I do not sound like an idiot when I speak up in class.



I've decided to try a new hobby. Baking. So far I've really only made one thing but that's only because I can't have more than one dessert in my house at one time. I'm already eating this cake* for breakfast, morning snack, lunch, afternoon snack, dinner, late night snack (what? Don't act like that's too much snacking.) Here is me trying to fit the entire cake into my mouth...
it didn't work. Which is why I'm forced to eat it sliver by sliver (calories don't count if you don't put the cake on a plate) until it's gone. There is not very much left. I figure I will easily finish the rest of it today which means tomorrow I can bake something else just in time for my sisters to get here. (Yahoo! Sisters!)

Anyhow, I am now on the hunt for my next recipe to try and I'm getting a little annoyed. Why do so many desserts have to be tainted with walnuts? I know I could probably just leave them out but I judge things based on how they look, and if there is a picture of a dessert with walnuts in it I just keep on moving. Nuts are not welcome in my desserts, they don't belong there and I get irritated when people try to force me to have some protein with my sweets.

I'm not a picky eater. In terms of foods I don't like it's now down to: beets. I think they taste like dirt, I don't care how pretty they are I won't eat them. That's it. Just beets, otherwise I'm really easy to please and will try anything (as long as it's not burn my taste-buds off spicy.) However when it comes to dessert I am very picky. I don't like chocolate ice cream, hot fudge, cookie dough ice cream, any sort of anything with nuts in it, carrot cake (again-don't try to disguise something healthy as a treat), or anything cherry flavored. See? Kinda picky, but if I'm going to indulge in dessert then I feel it's okay to be picky about what deciding what to eat.

I'm on the hunt...I'm sure I'll let you know what I make, and if you want some of it you'd better be quick about it.

*This cake is a white cake with added bonus yumminess of instant vanilla pudding, 7-up, and other cake stuff. It's also a homemade frosting, which looks more like a glaze because I got impatient (what, me? impatient? never.) and tried to frost the cake before it was completely cool.


Awe Crap She did it again

I am having a very hard time this morning reconciling the fact that one of my very favorite things (Glee) is going to be featuring one of my least favorite things (Britney Spears). I've never been a Britney fan in fact I'll admit, I really can't stand her. When I was dancing for the Lumberjax we learned a routine to "Womanizer" and I just couldn't get behind dancing to one of her songs, so I didn't. Anytime that routine was performed I sat it out, trying to just focus on the cute girls dancing and not the bad synthesized voice blaring out the speakers.

I've successfully avoided her for the most part until now. I know it's still a week away but I'm already feeling very conflicted. On the one hand, I REALLY don't want to watch Britney; on the other hand I'm positive the Glee kids will sing her songs better than she ever did. On the one hand, Britney makes my skin crawl; on the other hand I'm sure Sue will have some priceless one liners that I don't want to miss. The list of pros and cons is longer than that, but I think you get the idea; I take Glee way too seriously, I just can't help it.


A day in the life

I procrastinate. Did you know that about me already? I'm sure you did, it's really no surprise. I have every intention at the start of anything to be all over it, not wait until the last minute, be super organized and prepared. I don't know what goes wrong, it's almost as if thinking about it doesn't matter at all.
Let's take, for example, today. I have been telling myself ALL summer that I need to be reviewing French. Did I? Absolutely not. I am going to be starting my second year of French in one week and I would like to start it feeling like I took the first year of French and actually learned something from it. I now am going to have to somehow review an entire years worth of learning into one week! I've split the book into sections and have given myself a certain number of chapters to review each day so I can be done by the weekend. And yet, what am I doing? Writing on the internet about how I need to be studying. Why? Because that seemed like a lot more fun. Fun always wins out for a procrastinator.

I justify my behavior by telling myself that I actually work best under pressure. But to be honest I don't really know if that is true or not because it's the only way I've ever done things. All my choreography gets done at the last minute, the papers I write usually aren't finished until minutes before class - allowing just enough time to print, laundry isn't done until I absolutely can't find anything clean (I will never run out of underwear I have about a trillion pairs), packing doesn't get finished until it's practically time for departure...I think you get the idea.

This seems to work for me though. People seem to like my choreography (unless everyone has gotten together and agreed to lie to me), my papers almost always come back with an A at the top, and as far as I know I've never been the "stinky girl in class."

Some people were meant to be organized, I am not one of those people. Often I wish I were but it's just so much easier to be who I am.


Things that make you go...

I am not very good at making decisions. Especially when I have more than two or three options. If someone says to me..."what do you want to do?" I have no idea where to start with that. When the possibilities are endless I have no idea where to begin; I mean, what DON'T I want to do? I work much better if someone gives me choices like..."what do you want to do? Go to the zoo, or go see a movie?" I can think those options through weigh them out and come up with a decision in a timely manner.
So, today when given the task of picking a place to have lunch I turned to my "decision maker helper" - citysearch. I went to the category "lunch spot" and a lot of good options came up but....so did 7-11. Seriously citysearch? Isn't 7-11 for like gum, soda, or maybe lunch if you happen to be walking by one at the exact time you realize you are starving and will die if you don't get something to eat in the next 45seconds?
I think someone would question my sanity if I got back to them after being asked "Where do you want to go to lunch" with "Well, I was thinking 7-11 sounded good, want to meet there?" Even I know that's a bad decision.



I have a lot of insecurities. A lot. Some of them have been the same since I was 15 years old. I am now 31 and every day moving closer to 32. I think most of the time I try to present myself as a secure, self-confident girlwoman, but the fact is most of the time I'm just trying to convince myself hoping that one day it'll stick.

Every once in a while I get to have a moment that brings me closer to actually believing the things I tell myself over and over in hopes that repetition makes habit. But those moments are usually few and far between and the insecurities have such a hold on me that they easily trample down any feelings of security fairly easily.

So, in an effort to get them out there, in the hopes that acknowledging them will make them less scary here they are. My dirty little insecurities (this won't be pretty):

I worry that I am not good enough at the things I love to do. That my choreography is boring, I worry that people will stop coming to my classes to go to someone else's instead, that maybe the only reason they come to mine is because it works with their schedule, but they'd actually rather be at someone else's class instead.
I worry that even though I love to write and sometimes feel like I just HAVE to write or my mind will explode, I'm not nearly as good at getting my thoughts from head to paper/computer as most other people and my words fall flat, uninteresting and lifeless.
I worry that my friends are only my friends because I won't let them go. That maybe if I stopped making an effort they would gladly move on to find more interesting/fun people to replace me.
I worry that I took a wrong turn somewhere and the dreams I've had of my life and my happily ever after were at the end of different road. But this is not a "choose your own adventure" I can't just start my book over and try a different route this time.


Sometimes it's the little things...

...like hearing your boyfriend on the phone giving his home address to someone and having it be the same as yours

...or a really delicious glass of wine, that also didn't break the bank...
that make me happy.


It's been a while...

and sometimes when I wait so long between posts it can be quite daunting to know where to start. So, I'm starting with a post about food, because I love food. A lot. And I actually don't mind cooking when I get to do it with my boyfriend, who I actually love more than food.

I opened a cookbook Casey owns and found a recipe that I thought sounded delicious and manageable. I also decided that it would be extra delicious with chicken, Casey thought tomatoes would make it prettier so with those additional ingredients on the shopping list we headed to the store.

And then, because even though I'm starting to learn how to enjoy cooking its still rare enough that I thought I should document the process with pictures.

Here are the asparagus and garlic all chopped up and waiting their turn.

And the plate of delicious accoutrement that got added at the end. Salty and fatty prosciutto, smoked mozzarella, and fresh basil. Can you say YUM?

Here are the plates all finished and ready to eat. Casey also added some red pepper on top of his, but I am not crazy about spicy things so I skipped that added bonus ingredient.

Boyfriend loved it (although I'm not sure he'll love the picture.)
I loved dinner too, but even though I'm full to the brim I am still excited for this yummy array of dessert snacks! Trader Joes did the cooking for us on that part of dinner. Thanks TJ!

So there you go...I'm a chef, maybe not a master chef but I'm well on my way.


I wait all year, and it's finally here!

Tomorrow I leave for Priest Lake for vacation with my family. I haven't packed yet, but that's no big surprise. I probably won't even start to pack until around 3 tomorrow, my train leaves at 4:45. But, I'm just packing for camping, how hard can it be? Sweats for the morning and night? Check. Swimsuits for all day? Check. Books? Check. Anything else is just bonus.

Every morning we get up and pull the chairs into the sunshine, we read facing the beautiful lake until it's warm enough to go out in said lake. The boys usually venture out sooner than the girls.

When it's warm enough for the girls we all grab floaty devices, paddle out to the buoys tie ourselves up and enjoy. Last year we started taking our books out there with us. We'd bundle them up in a plastic bag while we paddles out and then once we were situated, out came the books. We can stay out there for a long time when books are involved.

I love this vacation. I love the place, I love being with my family for a week, and I love that all we really have to do is...nothing. It always goes by way too fast.


I think I'd rather sit in time-out

I don't really know what started me on this line of thought this morning, but there I was in the shower thinking about how much I really don't like doing things wrong, or saying "I'm sorry." I've gotten better over the years at backing down when I know I should and admitting when I was wrong, but it still feels like a concession of my pride whenever I have to say sorry. Even when I know I was wrong. (I know, I know...it's a character flaw.) When I was little (but old enough to still remember this clearly) I would get sent to time-out when I did something naughty. Time-out was not in my own room (because that wouldn't have really been that bad. I had books and toys in my room) it was in my parents room; specifically on the brown chair in their room. I was told I needed to sit there and "think about what you've done until you can come out and say you're sorry." I won't go into detail about the delightful behavior that followed me getting sat in that chair but I will tell you that I usually ended up with a sore throat from all the delightfulness. Since I'm not still sitting on the brown chair in my parents room you know that eventually I would give in, march out, and apologize for whatever behavior had put me there in the first place. I don't get sent to time-out anymore for poor behavior, and it's probably a good thing because who knows how long I would sit in there now. I have not gotten any less stubborn over the years.

I also have not learned how to gracefully listen to someone tell me I did something wrong. I like to do things right the first time, and if I happen to make a mistake I would much rather people just ignore it until I can fix it. Being told I need to do something better or fix something I already did always makes me want to cry. I think it's why I refuse to learn new things...like how to ski or snowboard, play guitar, cook...or really any other hobby that other people might dabble at now and then. I tend to stick to things I know I'll be good at, because then people won't really see me make mistakes and I won't have to crawl under a rock and hide until the shame and embarrassment have passed.


Sweet Valley High (this post has nothing to do with those books....seeing as I was not allowed to read them.)

I was not popular in high school. I don't regret this, I would've had to be a completely different person to be one of the popular kids, and I sort of am fond of the girl I was or at least who she turned out to be. So, no, I do not wish to go back and change my status in high school...but it doesn't mean that there wasn't a part of me in high school that longed to be popular and date the popular boys. I longed for it so hard. And a part of that has never gone away. I still wish to be one of the popular kids, and I still get my feelings hurt when someone I view as one of the cool kids ignores me or very clearly doesn't really like me or obviously does not think I am quite cool enough. Well, I'll tell you what...I am a big hit with my family, my friends, and my boyfriend. And I bet some of the people that come and take class from me think that I'm a cool kid.

If you're like me and sometimes wish to be one of the cool kids...guess what? You probably are. At least to me, and I think that counts.


Sweet Dreams... are not something I regularly have

I have scary dreams a lot. It's why I try not to watch crime shows or anything too close to bed time...I will make those shows into my dreams and I will wind up being the main character of some horrific story. It's stressful and I've lost a lot of good sleep that way, and sure do love sleeping. Therefore, I cut out the scary/stressful shows.

However last night I had one of the most terrifying dreams I have ever had and I have no idea where it came from. I was having to get my right leg amputated at the knee, I have no idea why. But I was scared and I was destroyed. I was crying and crying and crying, there would be no more dancing for me..there wouldn't even be any more walking, I was going to have to be in a wheelchair. During my dream I was in the chair/bed type thing getting ready for the surgery except they weren't knocking me out. They were giving me small doses of drugs; they wanted to give me just enough to where I would be okay with them cutting into me. Except every time they would start I could still feel it and I would scream for them to stop, begging them to give me more drugs or put me under. But they wouldn't. I luckily woke up before the procedure was finished. Unluckily I woke up at 4am and my heart was racing so fast that I could not get back to sleep.

I looked up at dreamdictionary.com what it means....and apparently it stands for feeling limited in movements and where I want to go in life. Except I don't think I feel that way, I feel pretty good about the movement I making in getting to where I want to be in my life. Hmmm.


A few things to start off the week

Sometimes I look at those legs over there on the side of my blog and get a little jealous. I want them to be my legs, because then that would mean I would own those socks (and beautiful hard wood floors). Alas, they are not my legs, I could probably go out and find me some socks like that and make my leg's dreams come true...but I'm too lazy to go on that search. I am even too lazy to search the internets for them...and I do believe that that's the definition of lazy right there.

In other news....I am totally loving the new format of So You Think You Can Dance. I do not love all the finalists, nor do I love all the All Stars (Comfort, I'm talking to you) but I love the show so much I just wish it could be on every night for my viewing pleasure! Also, I can never get enough of talking about it...so if you would like to chat me up about it sometime I am all ears (and eyes.)

Oh, remember when I said that I found that I could motivate myself to work out if I just reminded myself that my parents worked out everyday? Yeah...that quit working. I need new motivation cause I'm just not finding it on my own. The weather isn't helping out either...it's just motivating me to stay in sweats...and I totally don't need to be in shape to wear sweats.


Lucky You

I just turned in my portfolio for Poetry, putting it together I realized that I really liked some of the things I had written and they were all pretty different. I don't want to lose this form of expression, and I believe that just like everything else, if you don't practice you won't get better. So, I've made the decision to dedicate a post each week to a poem. I'm going to try to continue expanding my knowledge on different forms and styles. It's like I'm putting myself is summer school, for fun.

Here is one to start us off:

Lost, and finally found

I followed the wrong star home
and ended up here
stars dancing under my feet
water holding it’s breath above my head
I’m afraid to move (or even breathe)
I might upset the balance that’s so precariously upheld

This place is nothing like the one I know
where magic isn’t possible
and gravity is never defied
where people move forward, determined looks
and frown lines etched deep into their skin
they never look up to see another’s eyes

I followed the wrong star home
and I think I’ll stay here
until the moon tells me it’s safe
or the sun urges me awake


Judgement is swift and fair

I can be judgmental. I try not to be but sometimes I have to be. It reminds me of this:

I think there are some people who just want to be judged an idiot. Otherwise they just wouldn't do and say stupid things. But since they do I feel it's my right, nay, my obligation to judge them. I know that when I do or say something ridiculous that other people are sure to be judging me so really it's only fair that I return the favor.


Dear friends,

I am going to do a little bit of bragging for myself because I'm proud of some things I've done, and I've learned that often times if you don't toot your own horn no one else is gonna do it for you. The noise that horn makes sure sounds good sometimes.

I am getting close to ending my third quarter back in college. I am an old college student, but everyday I am proud of the fact that I am back in school finishing what I started all those years ago. This quarter I took two writing courses, and I've shared some of what I've written on this here blog page. It was scary for me to share what I wrote, because I'd never had to do that before, in the past my papers had been between me and my professors, I did not have to worry about anyone else seeing them.

Today I got back one of the papers I had written, something that was unlike anything I had written before. It was a short story, very short, it was only 5 pages long. However, on the very last page my professor had written this: "Absolutely brilliant! Bravo! I love this - and Nora's daughter's story! I'm in awe!" I think I teared up a little bit when I read that. Something I wrote was brilliant? I could put someone in awe? Unbelievable.

Friends, I wrote a story and someone thought it was brilliant. And even though it was a very short story and even if no one else ever sees it I am proud of myself for that.


P.S. - Being proud of yourself feels really good...you should be proud of yourself too, share what you're proud of and I'll proud of you too :)



Last night I almost didn't go to my night class because all of my jeans fit too tight. I threw a giant fit, almost started crying and sat in my bed in just my undies pouting until guilt took hold of me and forced me into some pants and out the door.

I've been trying not to miss as many days working out, but for some reason it doesn't make me feel any better about myself. I know it will eventually but, I'm not very patient. I'm more of an immediate satisfaction kinda girl. However, I find it hard to keep myself motivated when I'm not actually working towards an end goal and I'm very good at finding reasons to stay home instead of going to the gym. Not a good combination, and it doesn't help my jeans fit any better.

The motivation I've been using lately is my parents. They work out every morning. EVERY MORNING! Well, except Sunday, that's the holy day. Anyhow, when I start to convince myself that I need to stay home instead of going to the gym I replay the conversation of my mom telling me about her daily workout routine including sit-ups and cardio. And I figure if my parents can go to the gym every day I should be able to do it too, it's hard to find excuses after that. Or, I guess I could just go into the dressing room and try on my jeans again.


Butternut Squash/Sweet Potato/Portabella Mushroom Soup

It should come as no surprise that I am not a fancy chef. I have never had a flair for culinary creations...I'm more on the taste tester side of expertise. However, my boyfriend Casey really loves to cook, and since sometimes I feel bad letting him do all the work I help out and sometimes I even pick the recipes we try and so far I've done a really great job. (Yay me!) :)
On Wednesday it was grey and rainy so we decided some soup sounded good...after over an hour of recipe hunting I made the decision for us that we would make Butternut Squash soup. We went to the store for the ingredients and Casey decided it needed to be spiced up with some sweet potatoes and portabello mushrooms. (I would've followed the directions to the T so, it's a good thing he's more adventurous.)

The prepping of the food was by far the hardest part because that damn squash did not want to be peeled, and I almost lost some slices of my skin. Which, probably would not have made the soup taste better and I probably would have never cooked again. Anyhow once everything was sliced, diced and sauteed it all got to simmer together in juices for forty minutes. I got bored so I drank some delicious wine (because you can't cook without wine, I hear there's some sort of law against that or something. The wine was: Insatiable. A blend of Cabernet Sauvignon, Barbera, Zinfandel, Syrah and Nebbiolo.)
Anyhow, even with the wine drinking and the Jeopardy! on t.v. I got bored waiting for the soup to be done so I could blend it into perfection so i took some pictures of me looking hungry by the food. You're lucky I am only posting one of those pictures because they did not get better with the more I took.

Finally time was up! I poured everything into my blender, and pureed the crap out of it, poured it back into the pots so Casey could add the portabellas, we decided they would be better NOT blended into a pulp. Casey whipped together a salad, and created a dipping sauce for the bread
I added sour cream to my soup (because that's what the recipe told me to do). Casey ate his as is because he thinks sour cream is gross (I know, What?!? is he crazy? Possibly.) Anyhow, the soup turned out so amazing and we have a ton of leftovers, we even had enough to put some in the freezer for another rainy day. I can sort of see why people enjoy cooking, but I still much prefer to just do the eating!


Trapped (for now) by a little round pill

She fumbles through the night alone. Weary,
worn and tired. Smaller in her life
than she had ever known. Praying no one
catches on to the lies that keep her here.
One more night, one more swallow, will it be
enough this time to avert the crushing
low? The dreams she once believed in, withered
dry beneath her worn leather mary-janes.
She is shrinking now, she can feel herself
dissolve, this is not the affect she planned.
But her image in the mirror suggests
she won't take this sitting down anymore.
Determined to become the leading role
in her story once again. Emptying
out the contents of her pocketbook, she
turns on her heels, determined walks away.

Our assignment was to write a sonnet using iambic pentameter about a piece of art we saw at the Portland Art Museum. Below is the piece of art that I very loosely based my poem on.

Gregory Crewdson - Blind Reflection



It's easy to get down on yourself, for some reason it's hard to look in the mirror and focus on the good things instead of all the little things you wish you could change. It's hard to accept a compliment without giving some sort of response to negate the nice thing just said. Which is why I've created little things in my life to help remind myself that I am, in fact, awesome. Stephanie and I have spent many hours creating "awesome lists" (I believe EVERYONE should have one) and I did a very cheesy collage above my mirror with nice words so I have to look at it when I look in the mirror. It tells me that I'm "skinny, breathtaking, unforgettable, beautiful, tiny...etc" things I don't look in the mirror and tell myself ever! Anyhow, I am following Shannon's example today and creating a list of 5 things I love about my body, here they are in no particular order:
  • My feet - not only do they allow me to dance and wear fun shoes they also have really cute toes.
  • My butt - it's sort of on the biggish side, and I love it, in fact when it starts to look like it's getting smaller I get my butt back into the gym for squats
  • My eyes - I love the color they are, and the shape
  • My legs - those things are strong, and relatively short on cellulite, plus they look really great in skirts
  • My hands - they are kind of tiny and I like that about them, plus they are really good at giving massages
So, while there are times when I wish I could change things about myself, or lose a little bit of weight I actually really love how I look.


I still like it.

It was brought to my attention on my last visit home that liking the smell of baby's breath might not be normal.

THIS kind of baby's breath:

<----NOT THIS kind

I always thought it was normal...it's not only my favorite thing about newborns but it's also my mom's, and two of my sister's. So, now I'm thinking it's another one of those things that has more to do with the family I was raised in and less to do with the fact that it is indeed one of the sweetest things ever. The older I get the more I discover that there are some thing that I think are normal...but as it turns out, are not.


Hello? Operator?

The other day I called my parents house and got the busy signal. Remember the busy signal? That damn signal plagued my high school years and got in the way of a lot of important conversations. Sometimes I would sit and listen to the *beep* *beep* *beep* for minutes before giving up and walking away from the phone. Most of the time I would just hang up/redial, hang up/redial, hang up/redial, repeat repeat repeat until it finally started ringing. One time though I just sat there so long listening to the beeping that it finally connected my call and it started ringing. How long did I sit there with the busy signal? Who knows. Seems like a total waste of time now, but back then I'm sure it seemed totally reasonable.


Tangerine Dreams

One day older than yesterday
a little smarter, not much wiser.
The weight of tomorrow
causing me to tremble.

Remember the day
spent drinking tangerines
over the rainbow, under the moon.
Watching movies, holding tight
to euphemisms created
in the silver light.

Stalwartly dedicated
to moving forward,
keeping out
of the way
of the elephants
that would smash
through dreams
last year,
before I can remember.

I hadn't posted anything from my poetry class in a while. So, here is one I turned in a few weeks ago, I haven't gotten it back yet, so I have no notes on it...if you want to give me some I would love it.


Just so you know, in case you were wondering...

When I'm having a bad day/hour/week, Tori is usually the only thing that can pull me out of it (and when it's not Tori it's Ani...but tonight, tonight it's Tori). I don't know exactly what it is, probably it's a combination of things: lyrics, music, and the fact that I can sing my heart out to every single one of her songs. The music holds me and rocks me back and forth, smoothing my hair, telling me everything will be okay...and belting out the lyrics only reinforces that feeling. (And if the music is loud enough I get to pretend that I'm good singer as well, which also helps me feel better.) I love that some of her lyrics make absolutely no sense in real life, so that way each time I can decide what I need for them to mean to me at that point. I love that some of her lyrics speak words for exact feelings I have felt but had no idea how to put those emotions into words. Remember that post about me being a crazy cat lady? Well, this here is just exhibit A...ya'll are lucky that I didn't post some video clips with accompanying lyrics.

On a TOTALLY unrelated note: Casey and I watched OPB last night. We watched a story about Giant Panda's and the effort that is being made at the San Diego Zoo to keep them from extinction. Goodness sakes people, those baby pandas are a-dor-able! Holy smokes. It's hard to remember that they're actually bears and could be dangerous. I mean, if I saw one in the wild I would want to cuddle it...and it would probably want to cuddle me too, to death. Anyhow, I felt very mature and oldish sitting there watching OPB, except for then I switched to Modern Family promptly at 9pm and felt much more myself.



Just a list of things...

  • I did my laundry, didn't have any fabric softener. Now I have some and I kinda wanna start all over so all my clothes are soft and cuddly
  • I love my new cupcake earrings, minus the one downside of the constant reminder that I want a cupcake
  • I love my birthday, and every year I get sad when it's over and try to hang on to remnants for as long as possible
  • I really love thunder and lightning, this afternoon there was like one lightning and one thunder and it made me want more
  • I have now been in a relationship for a whole year. One year, and it just keeps getting better. I never thought I would be in this place and I love it
  • I get to meet my newest niece this weekend, I have looked at the pictures of her a million times I can't wait to hold her, kiss her pretty little face and smell her sweet baby breath
  • I love my adolescent psychology class, I look forward to Thursday night all week, and not just so that I can watch 30 Rock and the Office anymore

as a final thought, here is a picture of me adoring a cupcake. Don't mind my crazy hair, I showered and then took a nap while it dried, but I think the cupcake more than makes up for it.


Internets, I need help!

Last week for 'Writing and the 19th Century' we read Walt Whitman's "Song of Myself" (I loved it. Loved.) Our first assignment after reading this was to write our own inspired by his. We took our "shitty first drafts" into class on Monday and got into Peer groups, we read our writing to each other and were supposed to give constructive criticism so that what we wrote could get better. I am not trying to toot my own horn, because I know that I need some help, but my peer group couldn't find anything to critique so I'm hoping you on the internets can. Here is what I have so far (it is supposed to be 4-6 pages long, right now it's only 3) sorry it's longish, but if you have time please read it and help me. I'll owe you for life.

Song of Myself

I’m the best parts of you
I’m even the worst
everything I am was once parts of you
everything I’ll be will come from you
I’ll change these things
make them my own
I’m clearly yours, but becoming more my own
more and more everyday

Those people on the streets, in their cars, just trying to live their lives
the ones with the crazy hair, too long, too unnatural, too bright, too dark
the ones with their pants that are too tight, too baggy, hung too low
the ones with the bad habits, smoking, drinking, experimenting
the ones you turned your nose up at, the comments under your breath, don’t think I didn’t hear them
I did.
Sometimes now I am one of them. Judging myself is fruitless, I’ll see where this goes
see how I feel at the end.
at the end I’ll be left with the pieces that make me whole
the parts that distinguish me from you, them

I believe in my right to choose, in their right to choose. My body,
their bodies…who can tell us what is right.
religion, god, the president, parents, teachers
what do they imagine they know that I can’t learn on my own
why do they imagine that telling me who to be is better than being
who I am

I watch the seasons pass and I feel in myself the changes
they’ve brought
I used to believe whatever was said
yet, I wasn’t na├»ve, I trusted who I was told to trust
I was young, I was spring
the tears I spilled, learning the lessons some would wish me to un-learn

Just because they say they’re right doesn’t mean they are
Why was that so hard to understand?
yet, their archaic opinions they force fed me are a part of my structure
bricks in the foundation that help hold me together
the judgments hard to break
harder still to form my own opinions
the internal struggle was worth the end result
to discover that
just because he loves him or she loves her doesn’t make them evil
there are worse things in love than finding it with the same sex.
having this drink, or smoking that doesn’t mean they are all addicts
and if they are it doesn’t mean they should be written off.
wearing that shirt with those shoes while walking that walk doesn’t make her a slut,
what you wear does send a message, be aware of what you’re saying.
she doesn’t go to church, he doesn’t believe in god, there isn’t only one way to believe,
a prayer means nothing if you don’t care who’s listening, does nothing if you do nothing for yourself.
he is a man, it doesn’t make him right, I don’t have to be who says,
a patriarchal relationship will never work in this feminists world.
waiting for marriage doesn’t make your marriage more pure,
less so if that’s all you got married for. What’s left after the virginity’s gone?
birth control won’t influence or encourage people to have sex, but a lack of communication might,
even scare tactics can be forms of communication.

I wander
and along the way I find pieces of songs, smells, sounds
that speak to me
the words I couldn’t find, didn’t know I needed until I heard them
smells that take me home, far away, make me feel the remnants of my past and hopes for the future
the sounds that echo back to me the things I have yet to learn or had accidentally forgotten
I am easily distracted
watching, waiting, listening for the next big thing
that could change my mind, open my eyes
make me mad enough to finally speak up
make me care enough to use the voice I keep hidden

I’m aware of my contradictions
I judge you for judging. I become the person I struggle against.
only certain people see certain parts of me
hoping to eliminate, diminish the judgments made on me.

I am a homebody content to sit night after night reading, writing, knitting into the dark
I am the girl wearing those heels walking that walk, calling attention to herself early into the morning
I am confident and sure of who I am as a woman, I am proud of where I’m going
I am scared and worried that I’ll never be who I thought I’d be, never get to where I thought I’d end up
I am a performer shining, spinning, and smiling for all those in attendance
I am shy and will not share my thoughts, feelings unless you ask me to, force me to speak up
I am a feminist who someday wishes for the day when I can stay at home and raise my children

In this world where being a man seems to give men advantages
what does it mean to be a girl? I have found
I am the one they’ll want to tell their secrets to
I’m smaller and softer, more approachable
it’ll come as a surprise when I open my mouth and know what I mean
I have to be more alert, more aware, quicker on my feet
I am allowed to be me, emotional, strong, moody
I can pretty
I can be smart
I can be nice
I’ve learned it’s not hard to be all three, when you find others who are as well
hold onto them, often nice is forgotten or never learned

I’ve learned that some women have learned
the only way to get ahead
in a man’s world is to act more like a man
rough and tough
a man gets called a leader, a woman called a bitch
where’s the fairness in that?
I’ve learned life isn’t fair, I’ve been learning that since youth
when told to be more of a bitch
I revolted against the idea
I can be a leader and a woman
a girl who can still be heard

I’ve learned to value family and all the forms it can take
the family I was born into, who keep me through time
they’ve seen me ugly, screaming and hitting, throwing and running
they’ve seen me weak, crying and broken, dramatic and bent
they make me laugh, they feel like home, they feel like pieces of me
the family I’ve made over the years, my collection of friends
they know me as an adult, they share the memories of growing up
memories made from falling in love and falling apart
stories drunkenly put together in tandem the next day
pictures and memories of trips and just sitting and sharing the confusion of everyday life

I am a little bit of all the people I’ve ever met
I take who they are
and make them little parts of me
their ideas shape my ideas
my beliefs are versions of their beliefs
twisted and shifted to fit with me

I’m moving forward with an idea of who I am
aware that tomorrow it might shift
I might hear something that makes me stop and think, write a second draft of something I thought
I knew


Excuse me for a minute

There are some really annoying people in this world. Sometimes I might be one of them, but most of the time I'm just judging them. Never in my life have I judged someone more annoying than the guy in my new night class. In a prime example of his annoyingness, tonight he plugged his laptop into an outlet on the ceiling that is there for the overhead monitor. Which means his cord was hanging down into the isle creating an awesome opportunity for tripping. This is a night class which meets once a week, meaning I get to deal with his antics for hours on end which just about pushes me to the limits. However, since I can see my professor (who is awesome and kickass - I kinda wanna be her) getting annoyed along with most of the other people in my class it helps me feel a little better. Some of the other things he does to make me want to scream include, but are not limited to:
  • tapping his fingers loudly on the desk. over, and over, and over, and over, and over
  • making loud gasping sounds for no reason at random times during the lecture
  • talking loudly at his neighbor...the neighbor keeps looking straight ahead...mr. annoying just kept on talking at him
  • supplying his opinion (which I think is apparent at this point everyone would be better without) ALL the time...at one point my professor even said "what does that have to do with anything?" yet, even that didn't defer him from speaking up.
  • sprawling out across a few chairs, throwing his lanky leg up on top of the desk to his left
I realized I am often easily annoyed. Still, I dare anyone to come to that class with me and NOT want to punch him in the face repeatedly while screaming at him to just "shut up already!!!"


Dear Guys at the gym,

Is it your intent to look like this:

Cause if it is, you might want to seriously reconsider. Maybe you don't have a full length mirror at your house so all you can ever see is your upper body, which is sufficiently strong and muscular. Maybe you think since your upper body is so fit that means your lower body is too. Well, you're wrong. You're all out proportion, and it's not attractive.



All the girls at the gym


Intro 101

Intro to what? I'm not sure yet...but it's bound to only deserve a 101 class level.

Last quarter I did a ton of reading, some of it I really loved, some of it I suffered through, and some of it I quit halfway through and just took really good notes in class. This quarter I am going to be doing a ton of writing, and since it's impossible to quit halfway through writing something and still turn it in for a grade I'm pretty sure I'm going to have to do all of it. I've been playing with the idea of posting some of my writing from class on here for my friends to enjoy, or critique, or laugh at behind my back....you know, whatever, and today Shannon actually told me I should do it as well...I didn't even prompt her or pay her afterwards.

So, for better or worse I am going to be posting some of the things I've written for Poetry 213 and Writing 399-Writing and the 19th Century (I know, you can't wait for that stuff huh?)

First up...the first poem I turned in for poetry...the rules were this:
take one line from the poem the person to you left wrote
make that line into the first line of your poem
the poem should be 16 lines long
each line should have the same number of syllables

and now ladies and gentlemen......
the finished product:

Little they know I’m a dustbowl pearl
stuck here alone in this dustbowl world.
Watching from my shell the world pass by
dreaming of the day I jump and run.

From here I’ll race up the mountain side
tumble my hair long down my back,
flail my limbs, gathering up flowers.
Run wild through the trees calling my name.

Then, to slip into the cool river
wriggle my toes deep in the mud bank,
slither along the moss covered rocks.
Cool, clear water refreshing my body.

Someday I’ll run away from this place.
I’ll be everything they say I can’t,
I’ll be happy and free, I’ll dance and sing.
For now, I can live, stuck here alone.


Crazy Cat Lady

Over chat sometime last week me and my favorite Ryan started talking about our love for all things Ani and Tori. Our obsessions became quite apparent and probably a little (ok a lot) overboard. After sharing multiple "favorite quotes" and youtube videos from both, Ryan made the comment that we were like crazy cat ladies except instead of collecting cats we collected people. Which made me laugh, and feel a little creepy, but then I realized it's probably true cause sometimes I talk about Tori or Ani like I know them personally, and I take very personal offense to anything negative said about either one...like crazy cat ladies do with their cat children.
Uh oh.


I wish there was video

Last night some of my family came to watch me dance at the Hockey game. It was fun to have them there, and since they were only staying in Portland for the one night I asked if I could leave with them before the end of the game to spend a little extra time with them. We had agreed that it would be easiest for me to come find them in their seats once I was done since I knew where they were sitting and I supposedly know my way around.
They were sitting on the 200 level, but the problem with getting there was that the elevator that had whisked them upstairs at the beginning of the game had been changed into down elevator to accommodate the rush of people that would be leaving shortly. So, I figured, no problem I know how to use regular stairs I use them all the time, I'll just take a set of regular stairs to the 200 level.
Except, none of the stairs I tried going up actually went to the 200 level, they bypassed that area and went straight to 300 level without even asking.
I was getting frustrated. How hard could be really to take ONE flight of stairs up to my family? I am not overflowing with patience so I went back to the down escalator gave it the once over and decided I could run up it. It wasn't moving that fast, and I'm (mostly) good at running up stairs. So, off I went, and it was going great. I was making progress, it was even hard at all, why hadn't I just done this to begin with?
And then? Then I got to the top. I was running and trying to leap of the final step but it kept pushing me back until...I fell. My bag fell over my head, my knees hit the ground and my shoes got a little bit chewed up by the teeth on the stairs. Graceful. I had to crawl the last little bit off, but I made it.


Who needs dinner?

I am attempting to make this:

It combines two of my favorite dessert things - brownies and cheesecake. I believe I am an expert brownie maker, and the only reason I don't make them all the time is because I have zero self control and can/will finish off an entire pan in one night.
I have never attempted to make cheesecake before, and even though it basically just involved mixing together a TON of cream cheese with sour cream, sugar and eggs I'm still a little nervous that somehow I messed it up. Although can you really mess up something that has 32oz of cream cheese in it? I would like to think that No, no you can not.


Jazzy Jill

Sometimes I like to dance, sometimes I love to dance, sometimes I'm really tired and would rather be sleeping, but... always I love teaching dance.
For a while now I've known that I also love Lady Gaga, she dresses crazy with a lot of sparkles and big hair. Her songs are fun and she has an actual good voice, not one that needs to be made good with machines and smoke screens. And then I started hearing and seeing interviews with her and it grew from mere loving to a sort of obsession.
So....Love Teaching + Love Gaga = Jazz dance spectacular:


I know I'm in the minority but....

I don't want pets. I just can't bring myself to care about them. I feel that over the years my character has probably been judged based on this fact. I can hear them now..."what kind of person doesn't like animals? Has she no heart? I bet she has a coat made out of dalmatian fur somewhere in that giant closet of hers.".....etc....
Still, I don't care. I can pretend to care...and once a in a while, if you catch me in the right mood, with the right dog or cat, I might ACTUALLY care for a minute. And then, inevitably I'll go back to the not caring.
It's indifference really. Probably the way those animal lovers feel when I start gushing on and on and on and on about my nieces and nephews, and perhaps even shove a picture of them in their faces. They don't really care, but they pretend to.

What I am not indifferent about however are strangers who allow their strange pets to get up on me. I have had a lot of these experiences over the years, and I always end up feeling like the bad guy cause I've just shoved some strangers dog out of my crotch. Again.."who shoves dogs? She must be a bitch. I hate her and her stupid blonde hair."
Yet, I feel like if I had a kid and allowed that kid to wipe their dirty chocolaty hands all over a strangers crotch area that would not be accepted. So how come I'm supposed to think it's cute when a stranger lets their strange dog (who might have just been licking it's own ass hole) do essentially the same thing?

I'm gonna just start looking at those people and saying..."I'm judging you based on your utter lack of consideration. Please get your dog off me in the next three seconds or you will be going to hell. I know people who can probably make that happen. Thank you."

Or, I could just get a shirt made with the following printed on it and put it on before going out in public. That could get the point across as well.


If a picture is worth 1000 words then I've done a lot of typing today

This was my first Valentine's Day with an actual boyfriend and I enjoyed myself. Neither of us think it's a holiday that is a very big deal but we spent the day together and he got me chocolaty surprises which is the best kind of surprise.


I can see clearly now, the rain has gone...

After my bout of doom and gloom I got to go home and watch my younger brother Ken come home from his mission. I always enjoy time with my family, but this was especially special. And to celebrate we went straight from the airport to my mom and dad's and stuffed our faces with food until we had to go lay down.

I also got to go to ballet/jazz class with my niece Abby. She's six, and right before class she got scared so I went in and did the warm up with her. After that she did great all on her own, she's such a cute little dancer!

The most random and fun thing that we did as a family though was play hide and go seek in my parents house. I'm not really sure how it got started, one second we were all sitting around talking about what game we were going to play, and then the next second all the lights were being turned off and everyone was scrambling to find a place to hide. I highly recommend incorporating this into your next family function.

Then, I think my body decided I'd had enough fun so I got sick. I slipped into a void of not moving. Today I have rejoined the world of the living and functioning, so far it's been a success...meaning I've stayed upright and awake but I'm about to head up to hip hop practice so that could change soon.


Little Black Raincloud

I can feel myself being pulled down the pissy drain, and yet there isn't a lot I can do about. Just knowing I'm acting like a maniac does not mean I have the power at this point to control or stop it. So, instead, when I hear my boyfriend chuckle because he thinks I'm being funny or cute I snap at him "What? What's so funny?" in a very not pleasant voice. Normally I would enjoy the fact that he thinks I'm adorable and funny...but right now I'm just pissed.
Other things that I've gotten pissy about include:
  • Going to the computer lab to print off one of my papers and discovering that the computer I just sat down at someone is already working on. Were there other computers open? Yes. Did that matter to my piss poor attitude? Absolutely not.
  • Getting to the building for class (which requires the use of an elevator) and having the people in the elevator see me, but not hold the doors for me. The list of names I called those little f*!*ers is not really appropriate for anyone to hear.
  • The woman in my class who laughed at what another girl said, especially since it made that girl cry. Stupid lady, you're dumb, and old. Being old does not make you right. AND, someday I could be that crying girl...because any time I try to speak in class I feel like I could cry any second. Reinforces my current behavior of not speaking.
  • Having to write a French composition in the same week that we had a French Exam. French is not my only class lady...please take that into consideration when writing your syllabus.

And, that's just all from today, thank god it's almost over.