The art of giving thanks

So since I woke up late this morning by the time I got upstairs I couldn't figure out any way to effectively help with the cooking portion of Thanksgiving, but just when I was about to give up and go play with my one year old cousin until it was time to set the table, my mom called me over and for yet another year I was the designated gopher for last minute forgotten items. So with my mom's credit card in hand I made my way to Wal-Mart at about 11am on Thanksgiving morning. What I found there made me laugh. It was the single largest collection of lost-looking husbands you will ever find. Some had cell phones. Some had small children. All had a whole shopping cart that was almost empty, save for a few processed cookies and treats. Across the valley you could almost hear frazzled young wives releasing an audible sigh of relief as they watched their husbands and young children leave their house.
After a wonderful meal and cleanup we passed the time napping and flipping through all the ads trying to decide what to get for others and what to tell others to get for us. As I am dead beat broke this year, I will not be joining the masses of lemmings in their early morning quest for deals this year. I will be happily sleeping. I did give my mom a list of things I would like for Christmas, because otherwise she loses all grip on sanity at the prospect of trying to come up with stuff for her kids who really do already have just about everything. It has always been my job to try and come up with things which I want that I don't already have. Over the past five years or so this list has been growing considerably smaller and more practical. This year's big ticket items for me are a years supply of contacts, a heated blanket, and a digital camera to replace the one that ran away from me this summer. Boring? Heck ya. But I'm okay with that. To spice my list up a little I did ad in a few more fun items such as 17 Again and some Disney Princess movies. However, you can expect me to be happy as anything on Christmas morning being able to see my presents without glasses, curled up under a blanket that's already warm, and documenting the whole experience.

Bedding Trauma

I have this thing about other people using my bed, pillows or even just my blankets. I hate it. I have to wash them after someone else uses them. Everybody has their own smell, and unless I'm head over heels for you, I don't want your stank on my stuff. For the most part this isn't an issue, but then big family gatherings come along and there are only so many blankets in our house. I managed to talk my parents out of letting anyone sleep in my room, because when that happens the smells just won't quit, however I just noticed an extended family member sleeping all cuddled up to my comforter that I barely washed a few days ago. This does not please me. But, like the passive aggressive person that I am, I made sure to glare menacingly at the sleeping little sent theif before returning to the safety of my cucumber melon scented room.

The parallel of the pants

I apologize in advance for my scattered thought process. Just go with it.
So after I went to class today I spent several hours hanging out with my first (and if I'm going to be completely honest, the only) guy I've loved. We've both moved on now, but remain really close friends. Now he's going to be marrying a really sweet girl next summer and I'm glad he's found someone who makes him happy. Now he's always talking to me about how he wants me in his life forever and we'll always be friends and someday we'll take our families on camping trips together.
Here's the thing, and this surprises me probably more than anyone, I really and truly am happy for him, and I am getting used to hanging out with him and his girlfriend. It doesn't bother me to be around them anymore than it does to hang out with anyone else who is being mushy, which has always bothered me.
I guess what I'm trying to say is that sometimes things change more than we ever think is possible. If you would have told me even a year ago that I would be going and doing baptisms and just hanging out with him and the woman he wants to marry, I would have told you that I would sooner eat a whole packet of staples and wash it down with a gallon of lemon juice. It wasn't going to happen. And yet here I am perfectly happy after doing just that. I still care about him, but we just weren't supposed to end up together, and that's okay. There is someone out there who I am supposed to end up with. I know it. Right now, even though I don't think I've ever met him, I miss him. I will admit that I am lonely, of course I am. But I would much rather be lonely, than be going through the pain of trying to force something to fit that was never supposed to.
Here's where the pants come in. I think finding love can be compared to finding a perfect pair of pants. For some girls this is not hard at all. Some girls can walk into a store, and after eliminating all the ones that are the wrong size, or in other words just totally wrong for her, she can grab any style and it will work. Jolly good for her. Some girls just luck out and happen upon the perfect pair right after starting to shop. Cheers to them. Then there are us girls who spend a very long amount of time and ridiculous amounts of energy and resources trying to find a pair that are comfortable and make you feel good about yourself and that you just want to wear everyday. During this search it is very hard to talk yourself out of getting pants that almost fit. Maybe they're just a little snug around the waist. Maybe they're a little roomier than you'd prefer, but after all this shopping you just decide, screw it, the perfect ones don't exist, I'll just get these ones.
But you just can't ever be completely happy wearing these pants. They are not comfortable, and the longer you wear them, the more they dig into you, or refuse to flatter you. Pretty soon you begin to resent the pants. It's their fault they aren't what you want them to be! But it was never completely the pants fault. Ya, maybe if they were a little more flexible it would be easier, but you knew what they were when you bought them.
I don't want to settle for uncomfortable pants. Even though I'm lonely, and I would really love nothing more than to feel loved, it's just not worth it to me. So I will keep trying on pants, trying to find a pair that are everything I need, and maybe even several things I want.
And I will keep doing so until something changes. Because I know now that things can and will change.

I can feel it.

Dedicated to Shelayna

Shelayna wanted me to update my blog, so here I am. Not a clue what to type. I think seeing as it's Thanksgiving time I'll just jot down a few things that I'm thankful for, in no particular order.
-Family
-Indoor Plumbing
-Automatic can openers
-Smells that give you those little mini flashbacks
-The Gospel of Jesus Christ
-Libraries
-Bug spray
-DVR
-Being able to go to a University
-Shoes
-Wonderful friends
-Cherry Cordial Kisses

Continuing on the note of Cherry Cordial Kisses, these things are too amazing for words. To quote my friend, Steven, upon eating one yesterday, "I might be in trouble. This is too much pleasure outside of marriage."

Mediocre poetry on a Sunday night- Steph the Salad Star

So, I started at my new job. It's been going pretty well, but a lot harder than I expected. There is an incredible amount of detail in this job and all my new co-workers probably think I'm shy and of very somber character. Anyone who knows me just smiled, I'm sure. It's not that I don't want to make any new friends, it's more that I'm just constantly so focused on the job at hand and getting it done perfect in a very short amount of time, that I'm too afraid to get sidetracked. In other news, I want to get my own apartment and a cat. I know this makes me sound like someone who will be eternally single and become that craaazy cat lady of the neighborhood, but I have no intentions of that. I want to move out because, well, I'm 20 and it just feels right, as much as I really, really, love my family. I want a cat because I like having pets, especially because I'll be living alone. Cats aren't extremely high maintenance since I plan on adopting one that's already grown and litterbox trained. I figure it's better off with me than Mr. Death-needle, right?

New Year's eve was a blast. I love my friends. Seriously. And may I just say that the city of Logan sure knows how to throw one heck of a new years eve party for an empty gymnasium. Keep on rockin', you party animals, you.

I've also been going through a lot of my old papers and stuff as of late and came across some of my poetry that I wrote in high school, and ya know what, for a high schooler it really wasn't all that bad. I even had one win 2nd place in a school wide poetry contest (very much to my surprise.) So, just for the fun of it, I decided to put some poetry that I found from back then on here. Disclaimer: Yes, I know, I am no Frost or Hemingway. These are just my "feelings" on paper, they haven't really had any re-writes or whatever. Take them for what they are, nothing more, nothing less.

Free

This world is dark,

this world is cold.

I don't want to live here

when I grow old.

I want this world

to let me go

back to the arms

whence I came low.

The world may not care

how I feel,

but I have friends

that are real.

They are not to this world

the worlds they are to me.

When the time comes

for my spirit to fly free,

I know my friends will be waiting,

in where I long to be-

A place not like this world,

no death and no pain,

a place where love rules

and is not just a game.

So, when I get old

and my spirit longs to be

painless, happy, and every bit free,

I will leave this black world

and fall into white,

where friends and family wait

with smiles to bright

they clear the darkness this world put on me,

and yes, then I will truly be

Free.

My Skin

This is my skin that you see.

It is dark and rough as cork,

and light and soft as porceline.

It is oily and zit ridden,

and dry and cracked.

It is scarred in places

where the world has cut in.

It is perfect in spots

I have saved from harm.

My skin is what you see,

but don't be distracted by

all that is on view.

Under all this skin

there is a heart, a mind,

a soul. Within is love,

hate, jealousy, and and sympathy.

There is a core that is strong,

solid, immovable, and walled.

My skin is what you can see,

but don't be distracted

by the poor wrapping job,

or you will never really see me.

So, since we're taking this trip down memory lane, how about a few random pictures from way back from when I was a wee lassie.