oh, pish posh

Awesomeness.

2013-05-21T13:39:00.000-06:00

#Pottering minus the broom, with my invisibility cloak.

We wanted to pay our respects to Dumbledore.

I'm on the moon.

This one time we went to the sand dunes at midnight and took cool photos. It was a long walk up a hill of sand (which is really hard to accomplish). It was cold. It was late. But it was worth it. These photos were taken by the amazing James Winegar and Sean Huntington. Despite what it seems, it was pitch black outside. These photos were made possible with the use of flashes, flashlights, and 30 second exposures. These guys are awesome and the experience was awesome and the pictures are awesome.

"Did you have an awesome time? Did you ~~drink awesome shooters~~ take awesome photos, and ~~listen to awesome music~~ hold awesomely still, and just ~~sit~~ stand around freezing ~~and~~ while soak(ing) up each other's awesomeness?"

Yes, yes we did.

#MeanGirls

PS: If you're confused as to what #Pottering is, type that search into your instagram/twitter. You'll see.

Junior High--The Beginning

2013-05-14T10:13:00.001-06:00

It should be required of all junior high-ers to sign a contract stating that they will never again speak of junior high once junior high is through. These are the awkward years. I keep a large shoe box full of notes from sixth through ninth grade. I wish, more than you know, I had copies of all the notes I wrote to girlfriends. I may have to make some phone calls to get those because I’m sure they are gems.

As I went back through and read them for reference I noticed a common theme. “Who should I like?” With eighth grade seemed to come the helpless girl phase. Girls were just running around trying to find boys to like because, what’s life without someone to daydream about? “Who should I like? I have no one to like!"

Introducing, the first time Breanne actually had a ‘boyfriend.’ Mark. It lasted an entire week. A week filled with awkward hallway hugs, notes in each other’s lockers, and never actually seeing each other outside of school. I ended it. Well, technically my friend Marcy ended it. She wrote Mark a note telling him that I was breaking up with him.

I know.

I was actually madly in love with a boy named Alan. (These fake names, right?) He was one of the few boys in my grade taller than me, as always. Which I think had a lot to do with my affection for him because I don’t remember a time I actually talked to him. We weren’t friends. But he knew I liked him. OH. He knew. And he was mortified by it. I was still awkward and overly obsessive. Again, not much has changed.

And then came Kirk. He was a ninth grader. Can you believe it?! A ninth grader. He was my ‘boyfriend’ for a couple months. (Eighth and ninth grade were in the same school). Insert more awkward hallway hugs and notes in lockers. And MSN Messenger. Yep. This was the start of something good. (To be sung in the tune of the High School Musical song).

I was obsessed with MSN Messenger. Everyday after school I would log on. I had a few key people I would chat with. Kirk was one of them. He also had bleached tips (like fifth grade, Tyler) and we had weight training together. This was one of the few classes eighth and ninth graders shared. I could bench a solid ninety pounds, once. But in my defense, that’s about how much I weighed at the time.

MSN was our primary form of communication. We chatted for as long as my mom would let me before having to log off. Kirk was the first boy I wanted to ‘fix.’ You know how girls are always wanting to fix boys?

We dated over my fourteenth birthday--my first co-ed birthday party. It was in a park and it was perfect. I wore my favorite Abercrombie shirt. Kirk couldn’t come to my party because I’m pretty sure my dad would have killed him. So before the party, I went to the movie ‘with my BFF Hannah.’ We met Kirk and his friend there. We held hands. HELD HANDS! My dad picked us up after and noticed the two boys walking away. Needless to say he wasn’t too happy about us going to movies with boys.

Kirk gave me a stuffed panda bear for my birthday. And something else but I can’t remember what. We had a song. Ocean Avenue by Yellowcard. I don’t even know. And holding hands was as far as it ever went with us. Although, one person thought a lot more was going on. We were at my friend Mary’s house with a big group of people watching a scary movie. The Ring, if I recall correctly. Kirk and I were sitting on the couch with Mary and a few other people. We had a blanket because we were holding hands and didn’t want anyyyyyyone to know. Duh.

Mary had a stepmother who was a little off her rocker. She came over to me and asked quietly,
“Are you cold?”
“No, I’m okay!”
“I can turn the heat up if you’re cold.”
“No, I’m fine, thanks though!”
(Clearly not picking up what she was putting down.)
“Okay,” she says, “then stop feeling up."

It took me about three minutes to process what she had just said to me. And five more minutes to realize what ‘feeling up’ meant. I was barely fourteen! I had never even kissed a boy, let alone felt one up. I was mortified. I took the blanket off and slowly slid away from Kirk. He was so upset. And I couldn’t very well explain to him what Mary’s stepmom had just accused me of. No way was I ever telling him.

I’m not sure the timeline of this relationship, but somewhere towards the end I found out Kirk was cheating on me with a ninth grader from a different school. Portia. Portia! Of course he cheats on me with a Portia! I was devastated to say the least. (Portia is actually her real name. I’d protect it, but it’s just too good.)

(Ninth grade coming soon.)

Dear Vogue

2013-05-10T16:03:00.004-06:00

Recently I wrote a letter to Vogue (and some other magazines) inquiring how one should go about getting a job. It's pretty humorous. Thought you'd all enjoy.

Disclaimer: All of the below information is completely true and not exaggerated in any way. I'm telling you this because exaggeration is my forte, but I went with the truth this time.

Anna Wintour

Editor-in-chief

Vogue
4 Times Sq C1b
New York, NY 10036

Your Excellency,

I am inquiring as to how one should go about getting a writing job at your beloved Vogue Magazine. Assuming this gets to you (I googled your address, so I can’t be sure), I appreciate the time you’ve taken to read this. (If this letter ends up in the hands of a random New Yorker, hello. Also, why are you opening mail that isn’t yours? That’s a felony.)

Because we aren’t having this conversation in person and you can’t answer my above inquiry right away, here are a few reasons you should consider hiring me.

In the second grade, our teacher matched us with fifth grade “tutors” who were to help us write a story. By that time, I was already an accomplished writer (as you can imagine) so I took offense to my teacher’s assumption that I needed a tutor. Nevertheless, I wrote that paper on my own, and I wrote it good. My tutor was happy to get out of her assignment and I was immensely proud of my hand written, one page paper. (Double spaced, font size approximately 24pt.)

When we were asked to read our papers aloud to our class with our tutors present, I gladly volunteered. The first line of my paper went something like this:

“When I was born, I had to spend a week in an incubator because I took my first breath when only my head was out.”

Now, technically, I did take my first breath when only my head was out (as do most babies). What I failed to mention was, my head wasn’t completely out so that breath I so bravely took also contained “fluids” (let’s not think too much about those “fluids”). As a result I got pneumonia which put me in an incubator in the ICU for a week. At least that’s what my mom explained to me years later when I was in junior high still believing that taking your first breath when only your head is out results in a one week incubator stay. (I’m not too bright when it comes to science. Or math. Or geography. Or history.) (Good thing I can write, huh?))

Still not convinced? Fine.

In the sixth grade we were asked to write a letter to the President (Bush) addressing his (possibly fabricated by my teacher) desire to make us go to school on Saturdays. I took this assignment to heart. I wrote that letter to Mr. President, and I wrote it good. (The repetition, I know.) The letter contained phrases like, “You aren’t even in school so how could you even know what it’s like?” followed by, “It’s not fair!” and, “Some of us have to go to church on Sunday mornings so Saturdays are our only day to sleep in.”

I felt very confident about my letter. So confident, in fact, I spent the majority of my time daydreaming about how my teacher would actually send that letter to the President. He would be so touched by it that he would banish the thought of ever having school on Saturdays and there would be a holiday in my honor! Oh the magnificence of that letter!

And then my teacher gave it back, without praise. Oh the infuriation of my sixth grade self. She had circled almost every sentence in my paper and wrote things like “opinion” and “assumption” in the margins. What, we’re no longer allowed to write opinions and assumptions in angry letters to the President? She had crushed all my dreams with a single red pen.

If you’re still on the fence about hiring me, here are a few more reasons that may help sway your decision:

-I trust Wikipedia.
-I love Harry Potter.
-I once wrote three paragraphs about doughnuts.
-I often quote Mean Girls.
-I’m a great stand in for mannequins should you ever run out. (Double-threat guy!)
-I once played Cher in a “music through the ages” performance opposite a girl dressed as Sonny.

Okay, we’re getting off topic.

I grew up wanting to be a lot of things (see: singer, dancer, wakeboarder, stylist, designer, actress, model, mother, etc.); writer was not among them. I realized my love for writing when I started growing up. Unfortunately it was after I stopped going to college (I was a late bloomer). I don’t have a bachelor’s degree in, well, anything. I have an associates degree but it’s pretty worthless because it’s in “University Studies.”

While I believe college is so wonderful, I believe that great writers cannot be taught. It’s an ability that few have and most don’t. I feel I’m among the able few (#humblebrag) and I’m confident you’ll agree. (Yes, I did just use a hashtag in a letter).

I can’t promise you that I’m as fresh, candid, and audacious in person, but I also can’t not promise you. (That’s a double negative. What a way to end a letter, right?)

Faithfully yours,

Breanne Nicole Rutledge

Illusion

2013-05-09T16:05:00.000-06:00

The Great Gatsby film opens tonight. The last time I wrote about a film opening it was the last Harry Potter film and I was heartbroken. This time it’s a little different.

I first read The Great Gatsby in my high school English class. We analyzed every single line in that book. And I fell in love with it. I’ve read it a few times since but the last time I read it I gained a whole new perspective on it. In my English class we picked it apart and discussed every theme possible. My memory is hazy but I don’t recall discussing the theme that I’ve come to know as the most important theme of the book. (I’m sure we did though).

Illusion and expectation.

Jay Gatsby fell in love with Daisy and then he had to leave. For five years he was gone. I can fabricate an elaborate illusion of someone in less than five minutes. Imagine the illusion you could come up with in five years. This quote is more incredible than I have words for.

“…I saw that the expression of bewilderment had come back into Gatsby’s face, as though a faint doubt had occurred to him as to the quality of his present happiness. Almost five years! There must have been moments even that afternoon when Daisy tumbled short of his dreams—not through her own fault, but because of the colossal vitality of his illusion. It had gone beyond her, beyond everything. He had thrown himself into it with creative passion, adding to it all the time, decking it out with every bright feather that drifted his way. No amount of fire or freshness can challenge what a man will store up in his ghostly heart.”

Ironically, this is what we have all done with the film. The moment we found out Leo was cast as Gatsby our imaginations started flowing. We have made this film up to be the most incredible thing to happen in Hollywood history, and we haven’t even seen it yet. Every new trailer that came out blew up quicker than the rumor that I stuffed my bra in eighth grade (we’ll discuss this later). I’m the worst offender of them all when it comes to this film. And I’ll pay for it tonight as I sit in the theater, seat J13, and watch as this film, adapted from one of the most incredible novels ever written, tumbles short of my dreams.

I'll love the film. I have no doubt that I will love it. But no one can recreate a novel perfectly. They can recreate it well, yes. But novels are of our own. We create the characters and the places in our minds. And when a movie comes and shatters the images we had in our minds, we feel disappointed. This is how Jay Gatsby felt. So I guess tonight, we will all be a little bit Jay Gatsby. Because “no amount of fire or freshness can challenge what a man will store up in his ghostly heart.”

Listen to Over The Love by Florence + The Machine (written for the film).

Notes and Books.

2013-05-03T10:17:00.002-06:00

Do you ever miss writing in a notebook? Like taking notes in class. Writing “Notes” in big letters at the top of the page in ‘cute’ handwriting and your name, date, and period in the right hand corner. There’s just something special about putting pen to paper. Even if it is biology notes.

I’m going back to school in that fall (WHAT?) and I mostly excited to buy notebooks. Which is hilarious because I buy notebooks regularly now without having a need for them. But I always find something to write in them.

I have my journal, where I put my soul to paper. I have a notebook I keep in my purse with all of my lists. (“My ‘To Do’ list, my ‘Goals’ list, my ‘Contingency’ list, my ‘Observations,’ my ‘Notions,’ which, of course are very different because observations require a topic sentence and notions do not. Normal stuff.” John Tucker Must Die reference, sorryy if you didn’t get it.) I have a notebook for work. I have a notebook for doodles. And I have dozens of notebooks that haven’t been assigned a task yet. I love notebooks.

I’m also very picky with my notebooks. I prefer notebooks with no lines, which are hard to come by. I usually end up with sketchbooks. If I do buy a notebook with lines, they must be lines fairly close together because my handwriting is microscopic. Seriously, future generations won’t be able to read my journal (which is fine because no one wants to read my journal anyway).

I also have a specific type of pen and I don’t stray. I only like the classic number 2 pencils (preferably a whole bouquet of them). I love binders and folders and planners and highlighters and I would buy all of them regularly if I had need.

But I don’t.

Not because I’m not in school. Even in school I don’t need them because I have this. This computer that I’m typing on now. It has built in notebooks and folders and planners and highlighters. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a wonderful thing to have all of this at your fingertips. But sometimes I miss organizing my desk or my locker with all my binders and books and pens.

There’s something I can’t get behind. Book tablets. The Nook or the Kindle or whatever one you choose. I choose none. Holding a book in my hands is something I’ll never let go of. Holding a book in my hands is part of the reason I love reading. Turning the pages...It’s exhilarating.

But books are a dying medium. People don’t buy books anymore, especially at bookstores. They just tap a few buttons on a screen and they have any book they want. It’s a great tool to have. But there’s nothing exhilarating about it.

And soon all of the bookstores in the country will close. And that will be a terrible day. There’s nothing I enjoy more than browsing a bookstore. I’d love to start my own bookstore someday. It would be beautiful and clean and aesthetic and quiet and perfect.

Heartbeat.

2013-03-22T14:57:00.000-06:00

In Home Alone 2, there's a scene where Kevin talks to the Bird Lady in the park. I never realized how deep their conversation was until I read it. Children are so wise sometimes.

Bird Lady: The man I loved fell out of love with me. That broke my heart. When the chance to be loved came along again, I ran away from it. I stopped trusting people.

Kevin McCallister: No offense, but that seems like sort of a dumb thing to do.
Bird Lady: I was afraid of getting my heart broken again. Sometimes you can trust a person, and then, when things are down, they forget about you.
Kevin McCallister: Maybe they're just too busy. Maybe they don't forget about you, but they forget to remember you. People don't mean to forget. My grandfather says if my head wasn't screwed on, I'd leave it on the school bus.
Bird Lady: I'm just afraid if I do trust someone, I'll get my heart broken.
Kevin McCallister: I understand. I had a nice pair of rollerblades. I was afraid to wreck them, so I kept them in a box. Do you know what happened? I outgrew them. I never wore them outside. Only in my room a few times.
Bird Lady: A person's heart and feelings are very different than skates.
Kevin McCallister: They're kind of the same thing. If you won't use your heart, who cares if it gets broken? If you just keep it to yourself, maybe it'll be like my rollerblades. When you do decide to try it, it won't be any good. You should take a chance. Got nothing to lose.
Bird Lady: Little truth in there somewhere.
Kevin McCallister: I think so. Your heart might still be broken, but it isn't gone. If it was gone, you wouldn't be so nice.

Have you ever watched your heart beat on an ultrasound screen? It's a trip. I got an echo-cardiogram a couple weeks ago. I felt so small lying there, staring at the only thing keeping me alive beat on a black and white screen. I watched every beat. I could feel every beat. It's a beautiful feeling, being completely aware of your heartbeat.

What if every person had a specific number of heartbeats until it was used up? If you knew you only had so many heartbeats before it stopped and your time on this earth was finished, would you do things differently? When I think of all the things I've wanted to do and haven't, the reason is always fear. Fear of rejection, failure, harm, finances, heartache, etc. It's always fear. So I've been trying to change that. When a situation presents itself the first thing I ask myself is, "Is the reason I'm not doing this because I'm afraid?" If the answer is yes, I make myself do it.

I'm learning to love every part of my life. The good times and the bad times and the in between times. What would my life be worth if everything was good all of the time? The bad times build your character. Heartache comes in so many different ways and it's easy to wish that you'd never felt it. But what would love be without heartache? I wouldn't trade any of the relationships I've had even though they've all ended in heartache on one side, the other, or both. If I didn't know the feeling of heartache then I could never truly love.

--2 Nephi 2:13
And if ye shall say there is no law, ye shall also say there is no sin. If ye shall say there is no sin, ye shall also say there is no righteousness. And if there be no righteousness there be no happiness. And if there be no righteousness nor happiness there be no punishment nor misery. And if these things are not there is no God. And if there is no God we are not, neither the earth; for there could have been no creation of things, neither to act nor to be acted upon; wherefore, all things must have vanished away.

Life is a gift. Love is a gift. Don't waste your ability to love because you're afraid to get hurt. We should be grateful for the ability to feel pain. It means we are alive. Our hearts are still beating. Don't waste anymore heartbeats.

"If you won't use your heart, who cares if it gets broken? If you just keep it to yourself, maybe it'll be like my rollerblades. When you do decide to try it, it won't be any good. You should take a chance. Got nothing to lose."

"Didn't you read my tweets?"

2013-03-06T12:57:00.001-07:00

We live in a world of technology. A world where people care more about the amount of followers they have than the amount of real friends they have. A world where your 'likes' outweigh your personal conversations. A world where people can freely express their feelings towards others in a text message or email, but are incapable of doing so in person. A world where confrontation is easily dealt with in a strongly worded text, and you can hide behind anonymity and insult whoever you please. How cowardly it is to hide behind that faceless avatar.

Social media becomes a confidence boost to those seeking validation. "Validate me! Validate me!" is all I hear when I see the lengths people go to in order to compose that perfectly ironic and/or humorous tweet. I am not innocent. I too feel validation when people retweet and/or favorite my tweet. But it's when seeking validation becomes the only reason you use social media that you've got a problem. And it cannot be cured through more social media.

Social media can be a source of validation, yes. But equally, it can be a source for self-doubt and insecurity. We don't feel accountable for what we say on social media for some reason. We feel we can be condescending, rude, and judgmental because it's funny. There are people who are funny, and then there are people who are only funny at someone's expense. If the only way you can be funny is at the expense of someone else, you are not funny. Those who can be funny without making fun are the only truly funny people in this world.

Put your phone down. Have a personal conversation with someone. If you feel you're addicted to social media, there is help! Well, really you can only help yourself. Limit yourself. Don't look at your phone when you're speaking to others. Don't look at your phone when you're having a meal. You'll find that after awhile you won't want to check social media as often as you once did. You'll only check social media when you want to, not out of necessity. Because checking social media should never become a necessity.

Your life is passing by while you're looking at your phone. You're missing life experiences by substituting them for simulated experiences. And when someone asks you what you did in your life, this will be your only answer:

Called To Serve.

2013-02-26T11:25:00.000-07:00

My baby brother has been called to serve his LDS mission in the Mexico Merida Mission. I cannot explain how excited I am for him and how proud I am. I always talk about how he's an amazing athlete, but he is an even more amazing man. He will be an incredible missionary.

The boy sitting next to him in this video is his best friend since they were nine years old. And guess what? They both accepted scholarships to play football at the same university, and they both were called to serve their missions in Mexico!

Ty leaves June 12th and will serve the people in Merida Mexico for two whole years! What an amazing experience for him. I mean, Merida is on the coast of Mexico and Cancun is in his mission area.

I'm so scared for him to leave. I definitely don't want him to be gone for two years. But I am SO incredibly excited to write him while he's on his mission. I can't wait to hear the experiences he has. The people of Merida will fall in love with him. He has the greatest heart and I'm so happy that he will be able to share it with others.

Love him more than life.

What will be your Space Jam?

2013-02-20T10:31:00.000-07:00

"It's like that dude Journey said, 'Don't stop believing...unless your dream is stupid. Then you should get a better dream.' I think that's how it goes..."

I love this video with my whole heart and I would just die of delight if this boy would agree to be my son. I have watched this video almost every day for weeks. Because we really do all need a pep talk, right? I especially need a pep talk.

We all have times in our lives that are taxing and require great faith. Making decisions is hard! Especially when the decision could impact the rest of your life. But God won't leave you alone in these times (or any other times). If you're struggling with something, open your ears, open your eyes, open your heart, and you'll realize that God is sending you little hints. He will guide you (mine has been more of a nudge, really) in the right direction. Little things. Here are a few hints he's sent me in the past couple days.

My beautiful and wonderful friend Emily put this quote on her blog today. "Sometimes your only available transportation is a leap of faith." -Margaret Shepard

I opened a book to a random page and read this quoted scripture, "If you desire a further witness, cast your mind upon the night that you cried unto me in your heart...Did I not speak peace to your mind concerning the matter? What greater witness can you have than from God?" -Doctrine & Convenants 6:22-23

On Monday someone said to me, "Don't let fear be the reason you don't do something." I've been thinking about that ever since. And guess what? I have let fear control my life far too many times. I think about things I haven't done in my life and they all come back to my being afraid.

So what I'm trying to say is, take a leap of faith (to be said in the voice of elderly Leo DiCaprio via Inception). Don't let fear be the reason you don't do something. And ask God for help. He'll guide (nudge) you. Get out there and DO SOMETHING. Why? Because, "This is life people! You've got air coming through your nose, you've got a heartbeat. That means it's time to do something!"

Find your Space Jam.

#NYFW

2013-02-12T14:38:00.001-07:00

It's that time of year again when Breanne feels utterly depressed for her lack of not living in New York. This happens quite often but even more so during two certain weeks of the year. Of course we all know I'm talking about New York Fashion Week. Oddly enough, I'm not super interested in going to any runway shows (although I wouldn't turn them down if I was invited). I'm more interested in walking the streets of New York and envying all of the glorious style there. Street style has always been a favorite of mine. I follow street style blogs like children follow ice cream trucks, but in the end they get ice cream and I am left with a deeper void in my closet.

So while I browse through all of the Fall 2013 collections what I'm really doing is dreaming of how this piece will be paired with that piece from another collection and mixed with some thrift store finds and made into such an exquisite outfit on the streets of New York that The Sartorialist will be speechless and he'll capture a candid moment of the outfitted woman and blast it on his blog giving me heart palpitations, like some outfits do, which will cause me to write a terribly long run-on sentence because street style is nothing if not worthy of a good run-on sentence.

Dear Disney,

2013-02-07T16:56:00.000-07:00

I'd like to make a formal request. Since I am too tall to ever be a Disney Princess at your theme parks, I would like to bring back the mermaids of the lagoon you employed from 1965-1967 on the Submarine Voyage ride. And I would like to be one of them. It's a simple request, I think. But here are some reasons I think I should be a mermaid at your theme park.

>I am too tall to be a Disney Princess (as I stated before). (I can't be a flight attendant for the same reason.)
>I have long hair.
>I have always dreamed of being a mermaid.
>I'm really good at lying around all day.
>I have been swimming like a mermaid since I was four years old so you don't even have to train me.
>I believe mermaids are real.
>My ability to wave at passersby is top notch.
These things aside, Disneyland was cooler when this was going on...

Thank you for your consideration. I expect to hear from you very soon.

Sincerely,

Breanne, your future mermaid of the lagoon

No amount of fire or freshness.

2013-02-06T11:51:00.002-07:00

It started in preschool when my first crush would pull me around in a plastic red wagon to keep me safe from the redheaded boy who chased me. That was it. That’s what sparked my hopeless romantic, ‘save the damsel in distress!’, dramatic, mindset on love. It ruined me. I’d develop a harmless little crush on a boy who, in real life, would never like me, but in my day dreams, adored me. I would make him up to be this perfect human in my mind. This was harmless of course, until boys started to like me back.

I remember the disappointment I felt the first time I had a ‘boyfriend.’ I was in junior high and he was a year older than me. Before he knew I existed I had dreamed him up to be perfect. He always said the right things and he protected me. But the real him didn't meet my expectations. You’d think I would have learned my lesson then, but I continued day dreaming about the boys I liked. They were all wonderfully sweet. In my mind.

This is a dangerous path to go down, day dreaming. It cripples you. Because what you see in movies or read in books probably won’t happen. Something wonderful will happen to you, yes. Someone wonderful will come into your life and make you happy for awhile. But that day dreaming heart of yours will ruin things eventually. No one can live up to the expectations of a day dream.

F. Scott Fitzgerald said it perfectly in The Great Gatsby. Gatsby had always loved Daisy but hadn't seen her in five years. Imagine the kind of person you can build in your mind in that amount of time.

And that’s it. That’s all it takes. One wrong strum of your heart strings to remind you that this person is not as perfect as you imagined them to be. So you let them go. And you feel better for it because someone out there will surely live up to what you've dreamed.

It’s a vicious cycle that you will find yourself in again and again. It won’t stop until you realize that dreams are not reality, but reality can be better than your dreams if you let it be. The grass is not greener on the other side. The grass is greener where you water it.

Doughnuts.

2013-01-25T13:20:00.000-07:00

We'll pretend I didn't just throw away the orange I was eating because I remembered there were doughnuts in the break room.

My boss decided it would be a good idea to have bi-weekly meetings. Every other Wednesday morning, we have a meeting in which we eat a lot of doughnuts and...well, we eat a lot of doughnuts. The doughnuts vary each time. Sometimes they are from a bakery and other times they are Krispy Kreme. One time they weren't doughnuts at all. They were Costco muffins. Which would have been fine had there been any chocolate ones.

Because of this new bi-weekly, doughnut meeting policy, you could call me somewhat of a doughnut expert. (Although I still don't know when the alternate spelling 'donut' should be used. According to Google, "The dictionary-approved spelling for the ring-shaped cake made of dough and fried in fat is doughnut." Thank you Google for pointing out that a doughnut is, in fact, a ring-shaped cake fried in fat (as I take another bite of my Krispy Kreme).)

Krispy Kreme's are delicious, but hard to consume in large quantities. And that's what we all want in a doughnut, right? To be able to consume multiple in one sitting? For this purpose, I suggest chocolate doughnuts from a bakery and/or your friendly neighborhood grocer. Preferably the chocolate bars that look like maple bars but aren't maple bars. You feel me? You can eat at least two of these without wanting gag. (I just threw away the last bite of my second Krispy Kreme doughnut because the sweetness is making me dizzy.)

I just wrote about doughnuts for three paragraphs. In case you were wondering how my life is going.

My life is PG Rated.

2013-01-17T13:31:00.000-07:00

You know that scene in Crazy, Stupid, Love when Ryan Gosling takes Emma Stone to his place and she's nervous and he calls her adorable? Emma says, "No. I am sexy. I am R-rated sexy. I know what happens in the PG-13 version of tonight. It's that I get really drunk and I pass out on the couch and you cover me with a blanket and kiss me on the cheek and nothing happens."

My life is rated PG. I don't even get drunk and pass out. I neatly tuck myself into bed at night at a reasonable hour. By myself. Alone. But let's not dwell on that.

Except for some off color jokes, a few innuendos, and perhaps a couple swear words we'll pretend I don't say, my life could be rated G. I don't stay out late. I don't have one night stands (or any "stands" for that matter). I dress modestly. I don't drink alcohol or do drugs. So basically what I'm saying is, if we subtracted those few swear words, I could be a Disney Princess. Preferably Rapunzel. Or Ariel. (When she's in the ocean, not on land.)

In the world today there are too many 'chicks' and not enough ladies. When did being classy become a bad thing? A strong case could be made for the 1970's. An even stronger case could be made for the millennium. Classy is considered old fashioned and I think that came with modern rap music. There are very few rappers who regularly rap about anything other than sex. Women who listen to these songs want to be Lil' Wayne's shorty so they dress the way girls in his music videos do.

I'm not going to get into objectifying women because I'm just not into that conversation. But it saddens me that girls believe they need to dress skanky and dumb themselves down in order for guys to like them. I see it everywhere. (Mainly when I leave the confines of Utah.) Girls get dressed up, go to clubs, get drunk, dance around, and hope to get picked up.

I'm okay with my PG rated life. I don't have to worry about waking up in an unknown person's bed with a hangover, only to roll over and see a naked, balding man with too much chest hair who I could have sworn was sexy the night before. I also don't have to worry about that naked man getting me pregnant or giving me STD's. (Abstinence is the best protection against unwanted pregnancy and STD's!) (But this is not to say I'm not extremely baby hungry.)

Girls these days want the boys in the club to be like, "Damn, girl!" (I actually really like that Justin Timberlake song. So does my mom.) They want to be noticed. They want to be told they're 'hot' and/or 'sexy.'

I on the other hand, would rather be told I'm 'beautiful' and/or 'timeless.' Being 'hot' means nothing to me. And I can assure you, you mean nothing to the guy who thinks you're 'hot.' He just wants a piece of (insert swear word we'll pretend I didn't say).

The Horizon.

2013-01-08T11:07:00.000-07:00

My friend Maddison is an amazing writer. She wrote this on her blog and I fell madly in love. It's my favorite piece of writing on love, maybe ever. And, unfortunately, I'm going through exactly this. I just pray that he won't be past the horizon by the time I figure it out.

'Love is what's lost when we're busy being perfect.'

Often times we find ourselves in “the game”. Most people say that they hate “the game”, and they very well might. We want the people who don’t want us because they want someone who doesn’t want them, and the person they like loves somebody who loves you, but you don’t want them because you’re in love with radial point A. We have come full circle.

We are so caught up in finding a challenge, that we don’t see the person standing right in front of us. Here’s something interesting, we only find ourselves missing the person who loved us when THEY move on. Why? Because after they move on, they become a new challenge and if we’re lucky enough we catch them right before they move past the horizon. Marriage stems from the golden lining on the horizon. Love is a sick twisted chess game, and every move is analyzed. The point of this game is to knock out the king and take over the opposing queen. If love was easy, the original king and queen would be married. All the other chess pieces would be extended family, their neighbors across the street would be friends who BBQ on Sunday. They would never want to commit adultery or kill the other woman’s husband (king).

We love challenge, we hate defeat. What we need to understand is that love is a form of defeat and there is a great reward in it. We show our significant other every single one of our flaws and HOPE that they love us back. It is not a challenge to see who will “win” or “lose” unless you’re looking for divorce or psychological terrorism. The most beautiful thing about love is that we are able to accept somebody else as a part of ourselves, and that is the only challenge worth accepting. The most interesting thing about this game is that we actually end up spending a significant amount of time with the person who loves us because they make us feel secure, and we know that we don’t have to commit to them because they’ll always be there. The king and the queen stand next to each other for the longest amount of time in the game of chess, but they don’t stay together. They don’t stay together because they have their sights locked on a challenge fueled by selfishness. If the king and the queen were selfless for three seconds, they would be living the checkered American dream. If the royalty of the board would have used their power to conquer a challenge together and for one another, they could multiply their potential for success.

I submit that we need to humble ourselves and understand that loving somebody completely should feel selfless. The scariest things we do involve being vulnerable. We know that when we’re trying to get somebody who doesn’t want us back, we stand on our best foot, and we cloak ourselves with our strengths. It’s difficult to show your vulnerabilities to somebody who pretends like they have none. Our weaknesses contrast with our strengths, and it’s easier to love ourselves and others if we’re able to use them together. The king on the other side of the street isn’t as amazing as the one standing next to you. I know this because my Radiohead love slipped through my fingers like the sand we used to walk on as he walked past the horizon, and out of my life.

2013.

2013-01-07T13:18:00.000-07:00

Last year I decided against New Year's resolutions and for the three L's: Learn, Look, Live. Learn from the past, look toward the future, and live in the present. Resolutions never last very long, though they mean well. The three L's go a little deeper. But I'm just going to focus on what I've learned.

--It's easy to take for granted what is yours. It's easy to not realize until what was yours is not anymore.
--The grass is not greener on the other side. The grass is greener where you water it.
--Babies can make everything better. They are angels.
--You are exactly what someone is looking for. They just don't know it yet. Nobody knows what it is they want, until they find it.
--People can tell when you're being real and when you are pretending to be someone else.
--"Hard as things seem today, they will be better in the next day, if you choose to serve the Lord this day." -Henry B. Eyring
--You never know what might speak to you.
--I dress for comfort. AKA I can hardly wear jeans anymore because leggings and sweatpants have taken over my legs. And those pesky jeans hurt by hip bones.
--There are a lot of hateful people in this world. They have no intention of listening to any opinions that differ from their own. And those people live sad, lonely lives.
--Les Miserables truly was groundbreaking.
--"To love another person is to see the face of God." -Les Miserables
--My baby (adult) brother is a born leader. I already knew this, but last year everyone else found out. He is truly an amazing man and I can't wait to see where life takes him.
--I use my cell phone too much.
--I lost myself somewhere in the last 4 years but I'm beginning to find myself again. It's fun.
--I am the most hopeless of romantics.
--Kathleen Kelly is my fictional character icon. (Apparently you're aloud to have those?)
--"It is my prayer and blessing that when you look at your reflection you will be able to see beyond imperfections and self-doubts, and recognize who you truly are--glorious sons and daughters of Almighty God." -Dieter F. Uchtdorf
--Compliments are sure nice to hear. And when you receive compliments, it makes you want to compliment others. It's a beautiful cycle.
--Comparison is the thief of joy.
--"Because life is fragile and death inevitable, we must make the most of each day." -Thomas S. Monson
--I like having alone time.
--The most important relationship I have is my relationship with God.
--"Pride gets no pleasure out of having something, only out of having more of it than the next man. It is the comparison that makes you proud." -Ezra Taft Benson
--Timing is everything. Timing is everything.
--You cannot force feelings.
--Writing makes me incredibly happy.
--Judging other people makes you an ugly person. Loving other people makes you a beautiful person.
--I love Taco Bell. I can honestly say I had never eaten Taco Bell before this year.
--I read into things wayyyy too much. I make things into 'things' when they aren't 'things' at all.
--I get anxiety. A lot.
--It is God's will, not mine.
--I have the world's greatest family. The world's closest family. And the world's most loving family.
--It's important to do things that you love. You're just wasting time if you don't.

Heartache.

2012-12-14T13:23:00.000-07:00

"And whoso shall receive one such little child in my name receiveth me. But whoso shall offend one of these little ones which believe in me, it were better for him that a millstone were hanged about his neck, and that he were drowned in the depth of the sea." Matthew 18: 1-6

Yesterday I had a conversation with my friend. I was telling her my problems and how I've never felt so confused and heartbroken over a relationship before. She gave me advice and listened to my vent.

Today I feel so incredibly unworthy of using the word "heartbroken." I cannot fathom the heartache the families of these children feel. Tragedy seems like an insufficient word for the elementary school shooting today. My prayers go out to them. The pure souls of those beautiful children are safe in heaven. I know that to be true. Eternity is real.

The Start of the Awkward Years.

2012-12-12T12:42:00.001-07:00

I know you are just dying to hear more stories of my embarrassing childhood. Here's a look into my love life from fifth-seventh grade. You'll notice a common theme...boys didn't like me. Which had everything to do with my obsessive nature. And maybe a little to do with my lerpyness and my braces. Teeth braces and knee braces. You'll see.

Fifth grade? This was the year my really cute elementary school self started turning into my really awkward middle school self. It all started with the introduction of the zig-zag part. Yes, I parted my hair this way almost every day of fifth grade. Or should I say, my sister parted my hair this way. If she didn’t do my hair it was guaranteed to be in a ponytail. Slicked back. Only accentuating the ears that I hadn’t quite grown into yet. It was also the start of the lerpy phase. Tall and skinny. Skinny being an understatement.

But it came with a crush, all the same. Tyler had me at his bleached blonde tips and his bad boy attitude. My overzealous personality was a bit too much for him. And when I say overzealous, I mean way too flirty/not trying to hide the fact that I was in love with him. I had no shame back then. I’m not really sure what happened to that. Our ‘relationship’ ended on the last day of school. He gave me the extra cold shoulder when I took 37 sneaky (stalker) photos of him. Which I then cut into hearts and put in my scrapbook with hearts and hearts and more hearts. I’m not proud of myself.

Sadly, sixth grade was Tyler-less. But it wasn’t that sad because sixth grade came with my first ever, two crushes in one year. You heard right. I was a two-man-gal that year. And from then on. Adam and Cam, they were friends. I loved Adam first. He was tall dark and handsome. Tall being the most important word in that sentence. One of the very few boys my age taller than me. We had a beginning of the year pool party with our whole class. Cam was there, Adam was not. My best friend Emily (I’m not sure why I decided to protect her name? I guess I’ll do this with everyone) and I both had a crush on Adam. Needless to say, we were devastated that he didn’t show. But we soon got over it when we saw Cam walk by, sans shirt. Can I just point out that we were twelve years old? Meaning Cam was either skinny as can be with no muscle in sight, or was still fighting off his baby fat? I’m almost positive it was that latter. But we fell for him just the same.

Throughout the year I went back at forth crushing on Cam and Adam. But this was the year that I dislocated both of my knee caps. How did I do that, you ask? Oh. Just by being enormously skinny. And flat footed. So for one month I had a brace on my left knee and crutches. When that healed, a day later my right knee decided to follow suit. I’m mentioning this because it really hurt my game. Because let me just tell you, I had major game in sixth grade. Did I mention that I cut my hair chin length this year? Further accentuating the ears I still had not grown into.

Sixth and seventh grade were in the same building, so I returned for seventh grade praying with all of my heart that Cam would also return. But he did not. He went to a different school that year and apparently told everyone in his new school that I was ‘obsessed with him.’ Um, yeah Cam, I was obsessed but you don’t need to get telling everyone! That’s my job!

Adam was there, but I had other things on my mind. Multiple other things. Insert boy crazy years here. (Because I wasn’t boy crazy before now.) Casey, Ryan, Tanner, Aaron, you name him, I liked him. This is where my dating life really starts to get interesting. And this is where more details will come through. This is also where you’ll start to realize just how obsessive I was as a young teen. Not much has changed.

Casey was shorter than me, but who wasn’t? He was the class clown and had me laughing all the livelong day. No one, I mean NO ONE knew that I liked him. He was one of the few I kept secret from my best girl friends. Nothing ever happened between us other than friendship but I’m pretty sure I liked it that way. Did that stop me from daydreaming about him in math class? Heavens no. Daydreaming was my forte. I would pick the best scenarios from films or just make up my own. They usually involved dramatic crying scenes and emotional makeup scenes. I did this with every boy I liked. Judge me if you will.

I never seemed to make very many good girlfriends. I am a very passive person so I attract overpowering people. This proved to be true in seventh grade when my BFF, Cassie, ‘stole’ Tanner from me. I was devastated. According to an old note written in turquoise pen, he was given the choice between us. He chose her.

She wrote me a note to explain that they were now dating and she was sorry but she liked him sooooooo much. Direct quote (spelling included), “Is this going to ruin our relashonship? Well, I (heart) u so much. I (heart) Tanner so much 2, but u have 2 tell me wut u think about all this. K!” Two lines later, “Well, do u still like Tanner?? Or do u like someone else now?” What, now that I’ve had two lines to process that the love of my life has chosen my BFF over me? And then, after a few lines (and two lines scribbled out to the point of never knowing what they might have said) she goes on, “I really hope that this didn’t ruin your day. U might still have a chance w/ him...I dunno...” Thanks for that vote of confidence, boyfriend stealer. “I really really like him.” (‘Like’ surrounded by tiny hearts). “I need 2 know if u still (heart) him. It’s so weird...we always like the same people! I really really really really (heart) him! I’m not trying 2 make you feel bad or to be obsessive but I do!” Four reallys this time. Really.

**All is forgiven. I do not have a vendetta for the girl in seventh grade who stole the boy who never liked me in the first place.

So, Tanner got away from me (I almost just wrote his real name. THAT WAS CLOSE.) Aaron was up next. Taller than me (HALLELUJAH) and he had the cutest gap in his teeth. (I still hold a special place in my heart for boys with a gap in their front teeth.) I didn’t start liking him until he asked for my phone number (home phone number, mind you) in history class. He said, “I have a question to ask you.” I'm pretty sure I blacked out.

He’s going to ask me out, isn’t he? Oh my gosh I can’t believe it! He’s so cute. Oh! I have to write a note to Cassie. She’ll be so shocked! But what if he doesn’t want to ask me out? What if he’s going to ask me about another girl? No. He definitely likes me. Remember how he looked at you when he asked for your number? You’re totally going to be his girlfriend. I like him so much. AH.

Guess who didn’t call?
End relationship.

Ryan was pretty insignificant. In fact, I can’t remember much except that I liked him. He dated my friend Emily (remember the one who loved Adam?). But that little weenie (no pun intended) cheated on her! Oh, the humanity! They were in love and he just cheated! How could he? Seventh grade love is so hard sometimes.

Writer.

2012-12-05T11:01:00.002-07:00

I read this the other day and fell in love. Because it couldn't be more true. When you are written about, you'll always live. People will always read about you (whether you are disguised or not). It's a beautiful concept, really. And perhaps I love it so much because I am a writer.

I decided a long time ago that I was going to write all I could remember about preschool through high school before I forgot everything. When I started writing I realized that, with every grade came a new crush (and when I got older there were multiple crushes per grade). I've been boy crazy since preschool and it will probably never end. So I started writing specifically about the boys I loved. And I have decided to share some of it with you. I'll share a little at a time. I hope it makes you laugh.

**Names will be disguised to protect the poor, unfortunate boys who make it into these writings.
**Thoughts, feelings, actions, etc. will be slightly exaggerated for entertainment purposes.

'His name was Toby, and he stole my heart. We were in preschool and I was completely smitten by him. I was planning our wedding at the age of four and we were going to make the prettiest babies. Toby was my knight in blue jean overalls, equipped with his loyal, plastic, red wagon. He pulled me around in that wagon every day to keep me safe from the big, bad, ginger Todd who liked to chase me.

It all started there. My hopeless romanticism kicked in at the age of four and I have been daydreaming about my perfect mister since then. Unfortunately, perfect mister didn't end up being foxy Toby from preschool. (Although, later in life, we would end up on a random double date, but our love had not weathered the storm. AKA, he didn't remember who I was.) Alas, my preschool love got away from me. That would make for an incredibly cute story though, wouldn't it? Falling in love with my preschool sweetheart?

It didn't take long to get over Toby. In fact, the first day of kindergarten proved to be the start of a never ending trend. Falling fast and hard. Jason was the sweetest little kindergartner ever. I would sit by him at story time and he’d chase me on the playground. I tell people that he kissed me in kindergarten, but I’m almost positive that’s a lie. (You know those memories that you think you remember but you could totally be stealing them from someone else’s memories?)

This love lasted about as long as kindergarten. Partly because first grade brought on a new crush (as did every grade after that) and also because Jason ended up being almost an entire foot shorter than me once we grew up. Poor guy. But first grade came with Sam. He was from out of town and he moved away after that year. I still remember exactly what his face looked like. He was my BFF in first grade and I have no idea where he is now. (I even tried to look him up on Facebook. Failed.) I sat by Sam during story time when our teacher read Harry Potter to us. (I was already obsessed with HP by this point). And If I recall correctly (but memories have faded) one day I was tired so I innocently rested my head in his lap. My teacher promptly asked me not to. Oh the innocence of first graders.'

One.

2012-12-03T12:07:00.001-07:00

One year ago today, I was walking around the neighborhood with my 9-months-pregnant sister trying to get her to go into labor. The entire weekend we were walking everywhere. She kept getting sent home from the hospital because she wasn't dilated enough.

She went home Saturday night when it didn't work. I was writing in my journal (the one I just bought that day at Barnes & Noble on one of our walks). Mom got a phone call from Keia saying they were finally admitted to the hospital. HALLELUJAH! I stopped mid sentence and ran out the door. It's funny to look back at that journal entry.

Aspen is the most perfect little bug in the whole wide world. She is still the only niece (or nephew for that matter) in the family. And the only grandbaby/great-grandbaby. And she probably will be for a long time. But I think we're all okay with that. It's hard to remember what it was like before she came along. It's even harder to remember a time when she was smaller than her teddy bear. We are all smitten and always will be.

Highlights.

2012-11-30T11:09:00.001-07:00

I know how you've all been on the edge of your seats waiting for these videos to come out. Just kidding. I know you probably don't care. But I do and this is my blog so...here we are. Highlight videos of my brother's 2012 football season. He's unreal. It'd be a shame if you didn't watch these. He made 1st team All State and shared 3A State MVP with his friend from another team. Pretty great, right? He'll do amazing things, this one. Love him to the moon. And back.

Snow Day.

2012-11-16T10:47:00.000-07:00

I really dislike the snow. But I also really enjoy it. It's beautiful, yes. But it's horrific. My bipolar attitude about snow stems from growing up in a place that snows maybe every other year. The snow never sticks where I come from and if it does, it's for one day. One time it snowed enough to make snowmen. Well, not really. But we made them anyway. They were dirty and covered in grass because we had to scrape every single area of the lawn to get enough snow for a miniature snowman.

Years ago, I moved in January to a place where the winters last through May. Dead of winter, at least a foot of snow on the ground, this summer gal moved into a house built in the year 1900. It snowed on the first day of June. I remember, because I cried. Why oh why did I move to a place that snows more often than it doesn't?

It was then that I realized snow is beautiful. The days leading up to a snow storm are particularly warm and when the snowflakes come they are particularly large. It's warmer when the snow is falling than it is they next day when it's on the ground. Just lying there, waiting for you to slip on the ice underneath. That's the horrific snow. It covers the roadways and my tires strain themselves to not hit the car in front of them.

But, if you go outside in the early hours of the morning, 2-4am on a snowy day, what you'll find is that it looks a bit more like 2-4pm. The snow is so bright that it feels like daylight. That is my favorite part of the snow. But sissy enjoyed all of it. She stared out the window at it when we were inside and tried to eat it when we were outside. She was the only good thing about the snow last weekend. So now the snow sucks and I want summer again.

Mormon Helping Hands.

2012-11-14T11:05:00.000-07:00

Mormon Helping Hands :: Hurricane Sandy :: Rockaways, NY

from Joshua Brown on Vimeo.

This is my church. These are the amazing people in my church. I'm so happy to see such amazing work done by them on the east coast. I wish I could be there to help as well. They video makes me cry.

Until they find it.

2012-11-12T14:24:00.001-07:00

So in church yesterday we were talking about relationships. Being in a singles ward in Provo (Utah, really), relationships are bound to be the topic 75% of the time. So we've all gotten pretty used to it. But this time was a little different. One guy asked all the ladies what they thought guys wanted in a girl. And what did I hear? A bunch of crap.

Girls shouted out things like--skinny, pretty, less educated than him, blonde, easy, etc. I was shocked. And I wanted to defend the poor men of Provo so badly. I mean, come on. I know that there are a lot of guys in Provo who think this way. But guess what? There are a lot more who don't. And if you can't find them, you're looking in the wrong places. (AKA: Stop looking for your eternal companion at Noah's parties.) So it got me thinking. (And I said this in the discussion but it came out totally wrong so I must redeem myself.)

We spend a lot of time thinking about what we think a guy/girl wants us to be. We spend even more time pretending to be that person we think he/she wants us to be. But guess what? We have no idea what he/she wants. The only thing we can be sure of, is that nobody, nobody, wants someone who pretends to be someone that they are not.

A long time ago I thought a guy wanted me to be something else so I started pretending I was the something I thought he wanted me to be. And guess what? He dumped me. Because he felt like I wasn't being myself. HA. People can tell when you are pretending and when you are being real.

Forget about what you think that guy/girl wants. Stop comparing yourself to his/her past girl/boyfriends. Obviously things didn't work out with their last girl/boyfriend so why would they want to be in a relationship with someone who acts exactly the same.

Nobody knows what it is they want, until they find it. How many love stories do you hear that start like this, "I wanted a girl who acts this way and looks like this and loves doing this, and I finally found her!!!" No. You hear love stories that start like this, "I just knew. She was everything I never knew I wanted." And it stops them in their tracks. Not unlike the adorable kid on the skateboard above.

You are exactly what someone is looking for. They just don't know it yet.

Thunder Family.

2012-11-12T10:44:00.002-07:00

My brother played his last high school football game on Thursday. And he gave it everything he had. He got injured in the first minutes of the game but he played the rest of the game with all his heart. The game came down to two plays that would have changed the outcome. One or the other would have ended the game in a tie. But that doesn't really matter now, does it?

I'm so sad for my brother and his teammates. I wanted nothing more than for them to go to the championship again. My brother deserves it. He works so hard and he is so talented. But I just keep thinking that someone on the other team must have needed this more. Maybe going to the football championship game in high school will be the greatest thing that ever happens to someone on that team. And Ty will do so many greater things in his life. I can't wait to see what he achieves. I am so proud of him.

The best part of the night was when Ty and Coach Franke were talking to us and Ty was holding our niece. And they talked about how that is what it was all about. Not football. Family. Family is what it's all about. And I thought it was perfect.

Thunder Family.