I still sleep in way too late. But I do it more deliberately because, hey, all my alarms now warn me of the consequences.
Showing posts with label me being lame. Show all posts
Showing posts with label me being lame. Show all posts
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
Morning Motivation
I've been taking extra steps to try to get myself to wake up in the morning...
I still sleep in way too late. But I do it more deliberately because, hey, all my alarms now warn me of the consequences.
I still sleep in way too late. But I do it more deliberately because, hey, all my alarms now warn me of the consequences.
Monday, March 12, 2012
I used to be much dumber...
The cool thing about little sisters is that they remember really dumb things you did when you were 14 years old. And then they remind you about them approximately 7 years later on Monday afternoons while you are sharing lunch, and it is hilarious.
So....
Once upon a time, when I was fourteen years old, I was at a youth dance. Tender, I know. And there was also a boy at this youth dance. Well, there was more than one boy at this dance, thank goodness, but one in particular who was causing me great distress.
You see... he liked me. GASP. How dare he??!! What a travesty! So much angst and drama and emotional pain!!!
Apparently I didn't like him back... not even a little. In fact, I thought he was a weirdy, which is kind of rude of me, even if he kind of was.
So when the rumors began circulating at the youth dance that he was going to come ask me to slow dance in a while, it was like a world-wide CRISIS on my hands. My peaceful life as I knew it was on the brink of collapse, people!!!
His friends came over to my friends, and my friends went over to his friends, begging him not to come ask me because it would be really awkward and I didn't want to dance with him because he was creepy. Oh the stress!
So when the next slow song came on, I was on high alert. Then, my shrieky, over-excitable friends
began to panic as they saw this boy approach me from behind. We did what any group of completely level-headed, logical fourteen year old girls would do:
I dropped to the gym floor and curled up in the fetal position as my friends huddled around me to shield my body. And then he left. And then we ran to the girls bathroom screaming.
So nowadays, whenever I do something really dumb, like sleep through my morning class or watch five hours of youtube videos before starting a paper....
at least I can remember that I used to be much, much, much dumber.
this is so not true. okay, it's a little bit true. ha.
(and hallelujah I didn't hang out with that group of friends much longer. but really... dumb.)
So....
Once upon a time, when I was fourteen years old, I was at a youth dance. Tender, I know. And there was also a boy at this youth dance. Well, there was more than one boy at this dance, thank goodness, but one in particular who was causing me great distress.
You see... he liked me. GASP. How dare he??!! What a travesty! So much angst and drama and emotional pain!!!
Apparently I didn't like him back... not even a little. In fact, I thought he was a weirdy, which is kind of rude of me, even if he kind of was.
So when the rumors began circulating at the youth dance that he was going to come ask me to slow dance in a while, it was like a world-wide CRISIS on my hands. My peaceful life as I knew it was on the brink of collapse, people!!!
His friends came over to my friends, and my friends went over to his friends, begging him not to come ask me because it would be really awkward and I didn't want to dance with him because he was creepy. Oh the stress!
So when the next slow song came on, I was on high alert. Then, my shrieky, over-excitable friends
began to panic as they saw this boy approach me from behind. We did what any group of completely level-headed, logical fourteen year old girls would do:
I dropped to the gym floor and curled up in the fetal position as my friends huddled around me to shield my body. And then he left. And then we ran to the girls bathroom screaming.
So nowadays, whenever I do something really dumb, like sleep through my morning class or watch five hours of youtube videos before starting a paper....
at least I can remember that I used to be much, much, much dumber.
this is so not true. okay, it's a little bit true. ha.(and hallelujah I didn't hang out with that group of friends much longer. but really... dumb.)
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
The Return of the Cave.
Long, long ago (last school year), I had an awesome/ funny/ chill roommate named Anne. Anne and I bonded very strongly over something: we. hated. the. cold. weather. with. a. passion.
And so, when the bitterly frigid winter winds crept into Provo, Anne and I took refuge in our room. More specifically, in our beds. You see, even our apartment was cold, and we both owned heated mattress pads (Anne purchased hers after I testified of their necessity), and on most days, there was nowhere we wanted to be more than tucked away warmly in our beds. (except Hawaii, which is where Anne transferred, the lucky dog.)
human toaster oven. essential of life.
So night after night, we'd come home from school and work and activities and social outings (we weren't total hermits, mind you), and promptly hop into our beds and crank our mattress heaters up. We'd do our homework there, we'd talk across the room from our beds, and we'd often tuck ourselves in and watch shows on Hulu into the night. Our apartment was on the first floor, but it was actually underground, therefore our bedroom was in the basement and only received minimal light.... even at high noon when not a cloud was in the sky. (Seriously, that place was DARK. You could not see the sky from the window.)
This is what became known as "our cave."
It was how we survived the winter, all tucked away in our dark, cozy lair of a bedroom.
The seasons changed, and Anne started school at BYU-Hawaii, where she now lives near the beach and is probably way warmer and tanner than she could have ever hoped to be. And I lived in Provo all summer when the weather was perfectly warm, and then started the Elementary education program in the fall, becoming busy and bustling and productive every single day.
My bed became but a distant stranger.
But, alas, the winds of change blew again, and the mercury began to drop, the mountains began to turn white, and my schedule became less busy (as I finished with two of my seven classes). I began to find myself with more free time than I could have dreamed of. It began with 8 am alarm clocks and early, productive mornings, but as the mornings became darker and the days became colder, IT somehow happened.
IT HAPPENED.
And I want Anne to know about it. What happened, you ask??
THE RETURN OF THE CAVE DWELLING.
Welcome to the place I now prefer to spend all my free time:
no need to make the bed anymore, I climb into it so often...
At least this time my "cave" includes a large window with plenty of natural light to go along with the comfy sheets and plentiful pillows!
Please don't judge me: I am cold ALL the time. And I just wasn't made for cold weather. Or, you know, using my time to accomplish things.
ha. ha. ha.
p.s. I wrote this post sitting in my bed. At 3 pm. ha. ha. ha.
And so, when the bitterly frigid winter winds crept into Provo, Anne and I took refuge in our room. More specifically, in our beds. You see, even our apartment was cold, and we both owned heated mattress pads (Anne purchased hers after I testified of their necessity), and on most days, there was nowhere we wanted to be more than tucked away warmly in our beds. (except Hawaii, which is where Anne transferred, the lucky dog.)
human toaster oven. essential of life.So night after night, we'd come home from school and work and activities and social outings (we weren't total hermits, mind you), and promptly hop into our beds and crank our mattress heaters up. We'd do our homework there, we'd talk across the room from our beds, and we'd often tuck ourselves in and watch shows on Hulu into the night. Our apartment was on the first floor, but it was actually underground, therefore our bedroom was in the basement and only received minimal light.... even at high noon when not a cloud was in the sky. (Seriously, that place was DARK. You could not see the sky from the window.)
This is what became known as "our cave."
It was how we survived the winter, all tucked away in our dark, cozy lair of a bedroom.
The seasons changed, and Anne started school at BYU-Hawaii, where she now lives near the beach and is probably way warmer and tanner than she could have ever hoped to be. And I lived in Provo all summer when the weather was perfectly warm, and then started the Elementary education program in the fall, becoming busy and bustling and productive every single day.
My bed became but a distant stranger.
But, alas, the winds of change blew again, and the mercury began to drop, the mountains began to turn white, and my schedule became less busy (as I finished with two of my seven classes). I began to find myself with more free time than I could have dreamed of. It began with 8 am alarm clocks and early, productive mornings, but as the mornings became darker and the days became colder, IT somehow happened.
IT HAPPENED.
And I want Anne to know about it. What happened, you ask??
THE RETURN OF THE CAVE DWELLING.
Welcome to the place I now prefer to spend all my free time:
no need to make the bed anymore, I climb into it so often...At least this time my "cave" includes a large window with plenty of natural light to go along with the comfy sheets and plentiful pillows!
Please don't judge me: I am cold ALL the time. And I just wasn't made for cold weather. Or, you know, using my time to accomplish things.
ha. ha. ha.
p.s. I wrote this post sitting in my bed. At 3 pm. ha. ha. ha.
Thursday, October 20, 2011
Ode to My Backpack.
I've had nightmares before, terrible nightmares. Nightmares about dying, falling from great heights and showing up somewhere naked. But no nightmare has been worse than the nightmares in which I've lost my backpack.
My backpack is my life.
meet my backpack. ain't it a beaut'?
As a college student, my backpack goes with me everywhere I go. It's on my back when I walk out my front door in the morning and it's on my back when I walk into my apartment at night. It goes with me all over campus, and all over town sometimes. It carries my most expensive possession (my computer) and my life-sustaining essentials (granola bars, fruit snacks, sack lunches, lotion, bandaids, advil, chapstick, and my planner, without which, I would be a goner).
It's my footrest when my back hurts in classes and I need to slouch in my chair and prop my feet up. I've used it many a time as a pillow for an emergency on campus sleep-off-a-headache nap. It's my favorite accessory, and sometimes I feel like an outfit is not complete without it.
BFFs
My backpack is one of my greatest friends, for I spend more waking hours with it than anything or anyone else. Sometimes I whisper secrets into the pockets of my backpack. Not really. But I might try it.
My backpack has the capability to hold amazing quantities of stuff without looking chubby. Sometimes I think it is a miracle backpack (hushed whisper).
My backpack has smelled funky for the last few weeks. Something about old peanut butter sandwiches being lost in its depths. It survived the great Gatorade spill of 2011 a few weeks ago, but since the great BYU chocolate milk spill of a few days ago, I figured it was time to give Mr. Backpack a spa treatment. Yep, my backpack is having a good ol' spin in the washing machine as I type. I found 18 pounds of half pieces of gum in the bottom when I cleaned it out (I always tear them in half). I also found my favorite pair of earrings, which I thought I lost in mid-July.
chocolate milk stains: the downside of owning a white backpack.
Dear Backpack,
From the moment I saw you the first week of freshman year at the bookstore sidewalk sale for only 25 dollars, I knew we were meant to be together. You have been with me through so many early morning classes, late nights walking home, campus naps, rainstorms (you were so brave), and library study sessions (thanks for holding so many snacks).
Backpack, even though it's I who have carried YOU through all these times, YOU have truly carried ME. And for that I thank you.
Love,
Amy...
..who should be doing her homework. but writing letters to inanimate objects is much more fun.
My backpack is my life.
meet my backpack. ain't it a beaut'?It's my footrest when my back hurts in classes and I need to slouch in my chair and prop my feet up. I've used it many a time as a pillow for an emergency on campus sleep-off-a-headache nap. It's my favorite accessory, and sometimes I feel like an outfit is not complete without it.
BFFsMy backpack is one of my greatest friends, for I spend more waking hours with it than anything or anyone else. Sometimes I whisper secrets into the pockets of my backpack. Not really. But I might try it.
My backpack has the capability to hold amazing quantities of stuff without looking chubby. Sometimes I think it is a miracle backpack (hushed whisper).
My backpack has smelled funky for the last few weeks. Something about old peanut butter sandwiches being lost in its depths. It survived the great Gatorade spill of 2011 a few weeks ago, but since the great BYU chocolate milk spill of a few days ago, I figured it was time to give Mr. Backpack a spa treatment. Yep, my backpack is having a good ol' spin in the washing machine as I type. I found 18 pounds of half pieces of gum in the bottom when I cleaned it out (I always tear them in half). I also found my favorite pair of earrings, which I thought I lost in mid-July.
chocolate milk stains: the downside of owning a white backpack.Dear Backpack,
From the moment I saw you the first week of freshman year at the bookstore sidewalk sale for only 25 dollars, I knew we were meant to be together. You have been with me through so many early morning classes, late nights walking home, campus naps, rainstorms (you were so brave), and library study sessions (thanks for holding so many snacks).
Backpack, even though it's I who have carried YOU through all these times, YOU have truly carried ME. And for that I thank you.
Love,
Amy...
..who should be doing her homework. but writing letters to inanimate objects is much more fun.
Monday, October 17, 2011
Breathing: A How To Guide.
One beautiful thing about Brigham Young University (other than the fact that Jimmer went here and I love him) is that it is built on top of a mountain.
Some say hill... but I say mountain, because hills are cute little green things that you go skipping down singing songs about how they are alive, but mountains are things that make your lungs explode and cause you to want to die.
And so, every BYU student's life consists of trekking up and down these inclines, especially those of us that live down the large hill south of campus. And of course, anyone who ever goes down to the athletic buildings west of campus have to tackle the infamous RB stairs, which look like this:
Oh, so sorry, wrong picture. They just look so similar sometimes! The RB stairs look more like this:
In addition to trekking up and down hills outside, every building has lots of stairs, and elevators are shameful things that everyone will look down upon you for using. (well not really, but kinda)
The point is, unless you are a superior athlete, you experience frequent episodes of breathlessness while traversing this beautiful campus. And that is why I am writing today... to lend support and advice. Because you always seem to be walking amongst non-out-of-breath people who have been walking on level ground when you emerge from a steep ascent like a mountain-climber.
There are several strategies for retaining your composure and cool factor (aka: swagger) while you are desperately out of breath.
1. The "Suff' and Huff":
You mount those last few steps before reaching the top. Your lungs are beginning to burn and you feel the lack of oxygen building in your brain. As your foot reaches the top of the stairs/hill, you begin gasping wildly for air. You walk towards your next class, and see a total hottie approaching. As you pass, you nonchalantly hold your breath and smile. Then as soon as he is out of earshot, you gasp like a fool and breathe as deeply and loudly as possible. You begin to pass someone else and hold your breath, or just breath as quietly as possible. Repeat, until you are breathing normally once again.
social appearance rating: 9... other than the sweat trickling down your brow, you appear totally normal to passers-by!
potential for suffocation: 10.... this is why I have named it the "suff' and then huff."
2. the "Vigorous Nose-Breathing" technique:
This technique is helpful in loud crowds, or in situations where people are mostly pretty far away from you, because it can get pretty loud (you know...). You keep your mouth closed and smile, and try to intake as much air as is humanly possible through your nostrils! Win! An occasional deep breath through the mouth is recommended.
amount of cool factor that remains intact, visually: 87%
amount of cool factor that remains intact, audibly: 0%, because you sound like a wheezing old man.
3. The "Man Those Stairs Made Me Sleepy!" method:
This one is simple: Just cover your mouth and pretend you are yawning like a bear coming out of hibernation while you desperately gasp for air. A bear that yawns for a really long time. Disregard the adrenaline that is pumping through your veins while you feign drowsiness.
success in camouflaging your out-of-shape-ness: high
chance for receiving concern from others that you have narcolepsy: very high
4. The "I Just Really Enjoy Whistling Silently" strategy:
This one is definitely one of my faves... you just purse your lips into whistle formation and breathe deeply. I enjoy it because you have the ability to take deep, life-sustaining breaths, but it keeps your mouth gasping to a minimum.
sustaining life: 5 stars
flirting by looking like your lips are puckered: 8 stars
5. the "I Shamelessly Enjoy Living" mindset:
In this method, you actually disregard what people think of your hot-mess desperate breathing, and decide that you enjoy a regular intake of air, so you just breathe as much air as you need and don't think about how people perceive you.
self-confidence and sensibility score: perfect 10
creativity in breathing technique: a disappointing ZERO.
And lastly,
6. "Exercise So You Are In Shape Enough that You're Not Actually Out of Breath When You Summit Over 100 Stairs."
But that's just crazy talk, so we won't go there.
Some say hill... but I say mountain, because hills are cute little green things that you go skipping down singing songs about how they are alive, but mountains are things that make your lungs explode and cause you to want to die.
And so, every BYU student's life consists of trekking up and down these inclines, especially those of us that live down the large hill south of campus. And of course, anyone who ever goes down to the athletic buildings west of campus have to tackle the infamous RB stairs, which look like this:
Oh, so sorry, wrong picture. They just look so similar sometimes! The RB stairs look more like this:
In addition to trekking up and down hills outside, every building has lots of stairs, and elevators are shameful things that everyone will look down upon you for using. (well not really, but kinda)
The point is, unless you are a superior athlete, you experience frequent episodes of breathlessness while traversing this beautiful campus. And that is why I am writing today... to lend support and advice. Because you always seem to be walking amongst non-out-of-breath people who have been walking on level ground when you emerge from a steep ascent like a mountain-climber.
There are several strategies for retaining your composure and cool factor (aka: swagger) while you are desperately out of breath.
1. The "Suff' and Huff":
You mount those last few steps before reaching the top. Your lungs are beginning to burn and you feel the lack of oxygen building in your brain. As your foot reaches the top of the stairs/hill, you begin gasping wildly for air. You walk towards your next class, and see a total hottie approaching. As you pass, you nonchalantly hold your breath and smile. Then as soon as he is out of earshot, you gasp like a fool and breathe as deeply and loudly as possible. You begin to pass someone else and hold your breath, or just breath as quietly as possible. Repeat, until you are breathing normally once again.
social appearance rating: 9... other than the sweat trickling down your brow, you appear totally normal to passers-by!
potential for suffocation: 10.... this is why I have named it the "suff' and then huff."
2. the "Vigorous Nose-Breathing" technique:
This technique is helpful in loud crowds, or in situations where people are mostly pretty far away from you, because it can get pretty loud (you know...). You keep your mouth closed and smile, and try to intake as much air as is humanly possible through your nostrils! Win! An occasional deep breath through the mouth is recommended.
amount of cool factor that remains intact, visually: 87%
amount of cool factor that remains intact, audibly: 0%, because you sound like a wheezing old man.
3. The "Man Those Stairs Made Me Sleepy!" method:
This one is simple: Just cover your mouth and pretend you are yawning like a bear coming out of hibernation while you desperately gasp for air. A bear that yawns for a really long time. Disregard the adrenaline that is pumping through your veins while you feign drowsiness.
success in camouflaging your out-of-shape-ness: high
chance for receiving concern from others that you have narcolepsy: very high
4. The "I Just Really Enjoy Whistling Silently" strategy:
This one is definitely one of my faves... you just purse your lips into whistle formation and breathe deeply. I enjoy it because you have the ability to take deep, life-sustaining breaths, but it keeps your mouth gasping to a minimum.
sustaining life: 5 stars
flirting by looking like your lips are puckered: 8 stars
5. the "I Shamelessly Enjoy Living" mindset:
In this method, you actually disregard what people think of your hot-mess desperate breathing, and decide that you enjoy a regular intake of air, so you just breathe as much air as you need and don't think about how people perceive you.
self-confidence and sensibility score: perfect 10
creativity in breathing technique: a disappointing ZERO.
And lastly,
6. "Exercise So You Are In Shape Enough that You're Not Actually Out of Breath When You Summit Over 100 Stairs."
But that's just crazy talk, so we won't go there.
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
Battle Wounds.
When my alarm went off this morning at 6:30 am, I opened my eyes and realized that it was still mostly dark outside. I groaned and rolled over. And then I realized that I couldn't move my neck. And my back was really stiff. And my knees were throbbing. And then, when I sat up and swung my legs out from under the covers, I noticed brown and green bruises all over my knees.
It was an eventful Labor day, I remembered. But being the humble and subtle person that I am, I will just leave it up to you to decide how I managed to bruise myself up yesterday, resulting in all-over body soreness.
A) I was walking down the street, when I saw a baby crawling out from her front yard, right into the path of an oncoming pickup, so of course I immediately did a ninja dive and scooped the tot up while rolling across the asphalt just in time to dodge certain death.
"don't mention it, baby."
B) I ran a marathon super fast, and tripped and fell just before the finish line, bruising my knees, but then quickly jumped back up and broke through the awesome ribbon, winning the entire race.
this is exactly how I look when I run. yup.
C) I spent the entire day building a home for an elderly couple, placing each floor tile in position on my hands and knees, therefore causing bruising.
it was nothing, really.
D) At IHOP, after eating enough hashbrowns and french toast to sink a ship, I slipped in a puddle of water and fell on some tile.
Once again, I'm not telling you which one is the true story...
ITS UP TO YOU PEOPLE. Decide for yourself. Just keep in mind how cool I am.
It was an eventful Labor day, I remembered. But being the humble and subtle person that I am, I will just leave it up to you to decide how I managed to bruise myself up yesterday, resulting in all-over body soreness.
A) I was walking down the street, when I saw a baby crawling out from her front yard, right into the path of an oncoming pickup, so of course I immediately did a ninja dive and scooped the tot up while rolling across the asphalt just in time to dodge certain death.
"don't mention it, baby."B) I ran a marathon super fast, and tripped and fell just before the finish line, bruising my knees, but then quickly jumped back up and broke through the awesome ribbon, winning the entire race.
this is exactly how I look when I run. yup.C) I spent the entire day building a home for an elderly couple, placing each floor tile in position on my hands and knees, therefore causing bruising.
it was nothing, really.D) At IHOP, after eating enough hashbrowns and french toast to sink a ship, I slipped in a puddle of water and fell on some tile.
Once again, I'm not telling you which one is the true story...
ITS UP TO YOU PEOPLE. Decide for yourself. Just keep in mind how cool I am.
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
EFY is turning me into a crotchety woman.
There's this youth camp program at BYU called "Especially For Youth" (EFY) that brings thousands of teenagers to campus every week. They are EVERWHERE. Everywhere, I tell you. Sometimes I get really scared when I am walking to class and almost get stampeded by a crowd of youngin's.
unbelievably tender EFY picture from the EFY website...
Many more valiant souls love the EFY kids' presence. People like my tender roommate Ashley. She is nicer than me. She actually likes teenagers. She used to be an EFY counselor. She wants to teach high school for goodness sake. I admire that.
But I didn't even like teenagers when I WAS a teenager (six months ago baha). But now that I am the ripe old age of 20, I am a crotchety old woman. Ok, I'm just being dramatic. I do like teenagers. I just don't like obnoxious people of any age. Allow me to tell you a story:
Last week, I got a headache when I was at school in between classes. So I went to my favorite napping hallway on campus, a secluded hallway in the wilk with dim lighting and plentiful soft benches, with plans to nap that sucker away if I could.
It began well. I positioned my backpack as a pillow, curled up with my back to the open hallway and started to drift off into dreams of a headache-free life.
Time passed, and I began to become aware of something going on. The grogginess lifted, and I realized that I was surrounded by hundreds of teenage EFY kids pushing through the hallway next to me. I laid there with my eyes closed, confusion settled deep in my brain, hoping that if I didn't move no one would notice me.
"WAKE UP GIRL!" came a puberty-laden shout inches from my ear.
"He he... hehe... she's sleeping..."
"Dude, we should, like, go shake her or something. haha."
Poke. Poke. Poke.
I tensed. Was someone REALLY poking me right now???? Oh no he didn't.
If I had a hose, I would have gone to town.
Today, an EFY counselor yelled at me for going down a restricted hallway until I told him,"I'm not an EFY kid... I'm a BYU student." Slow down, homeboy.
EFY is a great program, I love it. I love BYU. I love teenagers. I love campus. I love the world.
It's just the punks in general that I could really do without. Maybe I should get a cane to wave at them? It'd really be fitting for a spinster like me. baha.
unbelievably tender EFY picture from the EFY website...Many more valiant souls love the EFY kids' presence. People like my tender roommate Ashley. She is nicer than me. She actually likes teenagers. She used to be an EFY counselor. She wants to teach high school for goodness sake. I admire that.
But I didn't even like teenagers when I WAS a teenager (six months ago baha). But now that I am the ripe old age of 20, I am a crotchety old woman. Ok, I'm just being dramatic. I do like teenagers. I just don't like obnoxious people of any age. Allow me to tell you a story:
Last week, I got a headache when I was at school in between classes. So I went to my favorite napping hallway on campus, a secluded hallway in the wilk with dim lighting and plentiful soft benches, with plans to nap that sucker away if I could.
It began well. I positioned my backpack as a pillow, curled up with my back to the open hallway and started to drift off into dreams of a headache-free life.
Time passed, and I began to become aware of something going on. The grogginess lifted, and I realized that I was surrounded by hundreds of teenage EFY kids pushing through the hallway next to me. I laid there with my eyes closed, confusion settled deep in my brain, hoping that if I didn't move no one would notice me.
"WAKE UP GIRL!" came a puberty-laden shout inches from my ear.
"He he... hehe... she's sleeping..."
"Dude, we should, like, go shake her or something. haha."
Poke. Poke. Poke.
I tensed. Was someone REALLY poking me right now???? Oh no he didn't.
If I had a hose, I would have gone to town.
Today, an EFY counselor yelled at me for going down a restricted hallway until I told him,"I'm not an EFY kid... I'm a BYU student." Slow down, homeboy.
EFY is a great program, I love it. I love BYU. I love teenagers. I love campus. I love the world.
It's just the punks in general that I could really do without. Maybe I should get a cane to wave at them? It'd really be fitting for a spinster like me. baha.
Saturday, May 7, 2011
The Mini-Van Adventures.
Coming home has been quite a transition. I decided to come home to Las Vegas for spring term before returning to Provo in June to start summer term and find a job. I love being home and I love my family, but I also miss being up at BYU (A LOT) and I feel like almost all my friends are still in Utah. It's weird because when you first go to college, you spend so much time missing all your high school friends, but once you make college friends, you miss them even worse whenever you come home.
Its a terrible conundrum. Forget world peace, someone solve this situation for us college students!
I have found that being-at-home adventures are much, MUCH different than college adventures, specifically that they involve way less social interaction and much more sketchiness.
I have been home for exactly two weeks today, and so far, my summer adventures include:
And now I pose a question to my dear readers: What do you wish so badly you could do if only you had endless free time??
Because I do....
and I am totally going to steal your ideas.
:)
Its a terrible conundrum. Forget world peace, someone solve this situation for us college students!
I have found that being-at-home adventures are much, MUCH different than college adventures, specifically that they involve way less social interaction and much more sketchiness.
I have been home for exactly two weeks today, and so far, my summer adventures include:
- contracting bronchitis.
- watching Hulu in bed for days at a time.
- going to a doctor who was very confusing and told my mom that beating me vigorously on my back would help my cough.
- being beat on the back by said doctor. it. was. hilarious.
- getting lost on the way to the mall because they CHANGED THE ROADS while I was gone!! Who said that was allowed?
- watching the homeless man who spent the day sitting across the street from my house.
- beginning a running routine in the mornings! WOO!!!!!
- ending running routine 3 days later because I could not walk.
- deciding to ease into next running routine once my muscles heal/ allow me to be walk once again.
- sewing a baby blanket for my friend!
- running errands for my mom in her minivan!
- laying out in the hot desert sun with my little sister.
And then getting a sunburn. - cooking scrambled eggs for my dog every day. What??? I don't spoil her....
- attempting to make friends in the singles ward! And failing.
And now I pose a question to my dear readers: What do you wish so badly you could do if only you had endless free time??
Because I do....
and I am totally going to steal your ideas.
:)
Thursday, February 24, 2011
This week calls for a sugar coma.
Yes, in fact, I am moping about my room alone on a Thursday night, too burned out to pick up homework or even look at the enormous To-Do list that has been growing all week and completely kicking my trash.
Yes, dear readers, I did have plans to go to a play tonight for credit in one of my classes, for which I sprinted in and out of the Wilk between commitments earlier today to buy a ticket, and walked all the way back to campus in the cold tonight, ticket tucked safely in my pocket.
Yes, I did arrive early, only to find that my ticket was missing, following which I retraced my steps all the way back to my apartment and then halfway back to campus, finding no trace of said ticket anywhere.
Yes, there is a half gallon of cookies and cream in my freezer and I intend to utilize it.
Some people choose to get drunk, I get sugared out of my mind. And then fall asleep early.
Happy trails!
photo courtesy of Dell Webcam and brewing insanity explosion...
Yes, dear readers, I did have plans to go to a play tonight for credit in one of my classes, for which I sprinted in and out of the Wilk between commitments earlier today to buy a ticket, and walked all the way back to campus in the cold tonight, ticket tucked safely in my pocket.
Yes, I did arrive early, only to find that my ticket was missing, following which I retraced my steps all the way back to my apartment and then halfway back to campus, finding no trace of said ticket anywhere.
Yes, there is a half gallon of cookies and cream in my freezer and I intend to utilize it.
Some people choose to get drunk, I get sugared out of my mind. And then fall asleep early.
Happy trails!
photo courtesy of Dell Webcam and brewing insanity explosion...Thursday, February 10, 2011
Someone Kick Me.
I thought it was a great idea to drop my morning classes for afternoon ones. Having time to get ready, eating a nutritious breakfast, studying each morning before class... what a life that would be, thought I. What happiness would be mine, I mused. What joy and satisfaction I would find in life once I wasn't rushed in the mornings, I declared.
FALSE.
Hey guys. I am slowly turning into a hermit. Its not cool. I apologize. There's this thing where its freezing cold outside and I sleep until 11 am everyday and eat breakfast at noon and STILL show up to my 1 pm class with wet hair. I am a hobo.
Sleep Schedule:
Midnight: Get ready for bed. Set alarm for 8 am, because I'm going to be at the library by 9!
1 am: Go to sleep.
8 am: Turn off alarm. I'm having an awesome dream!
9 am: Stagger out of bed. Get punched in the face with a feeling of death. Get back into warm bed.
10 am: Get out of bed and stumble towards the shower. Remember the frozen wasteland that is outside. Back to the haven of my covers! They never do me wrong.
11 am: Wake up again. Realize with disgust that I have been sleeping for ten hours. I'm so getting up. In ten minutes.
Noon: Get ready for the day.
I think a good swift kick to my head would do me wonders... any takers? If this goes on I'm going to turn into a thirty-year-old who never changes out of her pajamas and lives with eight cats and eats ramen for every meal.
I love myself so much right now.
That is all.
FALSE.
Hey guys. I am slowly turning into a hermit. Its not cool. I apologize. There's this thing where its freezing cold outside and I sleep until 11 am everyday and eat breakfast at noon and STILL show up to my 1 pm class with wet hair. I am a hobo.
Sleep Schedule:
Midnight: Get ready for bed. Set alarm for 8 am, because I'm going to be at the library by 9!
1 am: Go to sleep.
8 am: Turn off alarm. I'm having an awesome dream!
9 am: Stagger out of bed. Get punched in the face with a feeling of death. Get back into warm bed.
10 am: Get out of bed and stumble towards the shower. Remember the frozen wasteland that is outside. Back to the haven of my covers! They never do me wrong.
11 am: Wake up again. Realize with disgust that I have been sleeping for ten hours. I'm so getting up. In ten minutes.
Noon: Get ready for the day.
I think a good swift kick to my head would do me wonders... any takers? If this goes on I'm going to turn into a thirty-year-old who never changes out of her pajamas and lives with eight cats and eats ramen for every meal.
I love myself so much right now.
That is all.
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Its Alarming Really...
I struggle with a lot of things, I think that's pretty clear... forming coherent sentences, eating spaghetti, remembering what floor I'm on when I get into an elevator...
But perhaps the thing I struggle with the most is waking up in the morning, because I am most definitely a complete failure at it.
I have church at 9:00 am... I love church and always have a desire to go and be on time and look like I DIDN'T just comb my hair with an eggbeater after putting on clothes from a dumpster. But sometimes this is not the case. Nay... oftentimes this is not the case. Nay... hardly ever is this the case.
Last night I decided to do something about it. I decided to stay home on a Saturday night, go to bed early, and set three alarms for Sunday morning. Take THAT life, I was gonna be on time to church and I was gonna look HOT! Boo ya!
Wakeup time this morning: 8:33 a.m.
I turned off all three alarms in my sleep.
I feel like my readers need to appreciate the dexterity that this entails:
My phone is a touch screen, and to turn off the alarm, one must press firmly on the small floating orb that appears on the screen, get a firm grip on that with one finger, and drag it at just the right angle through an arc.
I know this picture rivals Van Gogh... you are welcome for introducing this beauty into your life.
If I can perform such impressive feats of skill in my sleep, I think I'm going to start taking my exams and going on dates while asleep also. Things can only improve.
What tips do you have for waking up in the morning?
But perhaps the thing I struggle with the most is waking up in the morning, because I am most definitely a complete failure at it.
I have church at 9:00 am... I love church and always have a desire to go and be on time and look like I DIDN'T just comb my hair with an eggbeater after putting on clothes from a dumpster. But sometimes this is not the case. Nay... oftentimes this is not the case. Nay... hardly ever is this the case.
Last night I decided to do something about it. I decided to stay home on a Saturday night, go to bed early, and set three alarms for Sunday morning. Take THAT life, I was gonna be on time to church and I was gonna look HOT! Boo ya!
Wakeup time this morning: 8:33 a.m.
I turned off all three alarms in my sleep.
I feel like my readers need to appreciate the dexterity that this entails:
My phone is a touch screen, and to turn off the alarm, one must press firmly on the small floating orb that appears on the screen, get a firm grip on that with one finger, and drag it at just the right angle through an arc.
I know this picture rivals Van Gogh... you are welcome for introducing this beauty into your life.If I can perform such impressive feats of skill in my sleep, I think I'm going to start taking my exams and going on dates while asleep also. Things can only improve.
What tips do you have for waking up in the morning?
Thursday, January 20, 2011
The Laundry Cycle of Amy
Laundry is a viscous cycle in my life....
It all begins when the laundry basket is empty and all the clothes are clean. All is well in the world. I make a solemn vow to myself to keep up on my laundry.
A week passes. The laundry basket is barely even full!
It all begins when the laundry basket is empty and all the clothes are clean. All is well in the world. I make a solemn vow to myself to keep up on my laundry.
A week passes. The laundry basket is barely even full!
Two weeks pass. I feel a twinge of guilt every time I see those smelly clothes crammed into that basket.
About three weeks have passed. Utter denial.
A month later. I desperately need to do laundry, but I would rather poke my eyeballs with hot needles because now my laundry basket resembles Mt. Everest. I shudder.
I finally do my laundry. It takes hours and hours of hauling heavy loads down the slippery concrete steps, dozens of quarters, spilled detergent, awkward laundry-room encounters, clock-watching, trips back and forth, back and forth, drying wet loads over and over as I watch my money disappear, and I am filled with despair as wretched tears are wept while my hours slip away.
I haul all my laundry (consisting of almost all the clothes I own) back to my apartment and throw them down in exhaustion.
The next day, now that they are well-wrinkled from lying in a pile, I remorsefully hang up every piece of clothing I own and re-fill my wistful looking closet.
Empty laundry basket. PURE JOY.
All is well in the world.
I vow to keep up on my laundry next time.
REPEAT.
Guess where I am in the cycle today? Hahahahahahaha....
Dang.
Thursday, September 30, 2010
The Story of My Life
Nighttime Amy: Woo! I love college! Lets stay up late! I'll NEVER be tired in the morning!
Morning Amy: I hate myself. I am SOO going to bed early tonight!
Repeat.
Someone make me stop doing this to myself!! I will give you an entire quarter and a high five.
Friday, September 17, 2010
Blisters
I really was going to go running the other day. But then I didn’t. It’s not that I was unmotivated; I just came home from classes with blisters on the bottom of my feet.
Dang sandals.
At the beginning of this year, I was like “Why did I never wear cute shoes last year!!? I have cute sandals and flats and wedges GALORE, and I feel like I never wore them!” So I started wearing cute shoes.
Then I remembered why. It’s called: Walking Everywhere I Need to Go.
It’s also called: BLISTERS.
Oh hello again Converse!
So basically I am going to wear sneakers everyday and wear a sign pinned to my shirt that says:
Dang sandals.
At the beginning of this year, I was like “Why did I never wear cute shoes last year!!? I have cute sandals and flats and wedges GALORE, and I feel like I never wore them!” So I started wearing cute shoes.
Then I remembered why. It’s called: Walking Everywhere I Need to Go.
It’s also called: BLISTERS.
Oh hello again Converse!
So basically I am going to wear sneakers everyday and wear a sign pinned to my shirt that says:
“ I really do own a lot of cute shoes. Really.”
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Running Is My Frenemy
Well, only if you say it like frENEMY..
Because it is so much more my enemy than my friend.
It is my friend because once in a long, long while, I go running and for a fleeting moment, it feels great.
But usually, I just die and wheeze my way back home.
If I was in this picture, I would be Ussain Bolt, but I wouldn't be winning the race, I would just be an entire lap behind everyone else....
Here is a list of people who are better runners than I am:
-the elderly
-chihuahuas
-snakes
-newborn babies
Today I think I am going to try to go on a run after classes, so I can feel cute and athletic and fit. Please think a little happy thought in your head for me. Something along the lines of my lungs not exploding.
Gratzi. You guys are the best. (But you’d be even better if you ever commented on my blog! HINT.)
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