boring?

Thought I'd give you a quick update on what is happening in this interesting life of mine (and by interesting, I mean almost entirely the same day in and day out).

1. My resolve to not spend money lasted two weeks.  And then I caved - aided by the pageant I hosted and was involved in.  "But I need to look good on stage!"  Yeah, big mistake.  Back to the no-spend rule.  Best purchase was easily the new Muse album, The 2nd Law.  RUN AND GET IT.

2. Speaking of the pageant, it was MUOT, the one that I actually did win way back when.  I was lucky enough to help a really pretty and awesome girl, and what do you know... she won!  It's going to be so fun to watch her continue to grow and progress.  She is easily the hardest worker I know, so I have no doubt that come August she will be a true contender.  Plus she's just really sweet.

{photo stolen shamelessly from the Missy Teen Utah facebook page, almost assuredly taken by Mr. Chad Braithwaite of Faces Photography}

3. That whole moving thing?  I've decided to postpone it.  Until at least next September.  I'm good with that decision.  Save money and such. 

4. Work is going well.  Sometimes I actually don't suck at my job, and those are nice times.  You can check out the Fashion Place facebook page once a week to see who I've styled and which trends I'm highlighting for the week. 

5. Last, but almost best of all, I leave for the big D-Land in 10 days!  Looooots of this going on!

Mazel Tov!

start again.

what am I doing blogging on New Year's Eve you ask?

I've been watching my little niece while her parents go do some grown up celebrating.

But I'll be heading out soon, wearing my favorite shoes of all time (and it's highly probable that they'll end up off my feet after about twenty-three minutes).  I genuinely can't remember what I did last year, so I'm going to try to make tonight a little more memorable.  If anything, at least I'll have a fun excuse to do a smokey eye.

I hope we don't all die in 2012!

also, in case you forgot how cute she is

look at your life, look at your choices.

The only prominent New Year's celebration I remember is when I was probably about 6 or 7 years old.  We had been living in Utah for a little while (this was in between Dallas and New Canaan), living in a condo in North Provo, up on the mountain above Timpview High School.  A lot of the memories I have surrounding that house involve really embarrassing things, like the time I harassed my brother Jim while he was on the phone with his fiance and got in BIG trouble from my dad, or the time I told my brother Erik's date she was ugly, or the first time I ever said the word bitch (how was I supposed to know what it meant?!).

Obviously I have an ability to remember the more traumatic moments in my life.  Like the game of Clue we had that New Year's Eve.

One of my brothers had to have said something to scare me so much.  Don't ask me why, but Clue freaked me out that night.  I was scared for my life as I was going to bed, thinking that Mr. Green was going to come find me and kill me with some non-traditional murder weapon, and that my remains would be stashed in some crawl space in the house that no one knew existed.

I think of this each time I play Clue.  And I've never told anyone.  Until now.  It feels like I'm unearthing what has been a burdensome secret.  Because if you can't say it at New Year's, when can you, eh?

As I was playing Clue the other night with the kiddos, I realized what I must have been like as a kiddo myself, trying to be a part of the older crowd around me.  My nieces and nephew seem so much younger than I was at their age, and maybe that's the commonplace thought we have as we grow older, this idea that surely we were much more mature or well-adjusted or behaved when "that age".  In my head I justify thinking this by reminding myself that I was surrounded by adults; my oldest sibling is 14 years older, so I've never really been in a family with children.  But then as I play with these really darling kids who sometimes play the piano too loud in the morning when I'm trying to sleep, I sincerely hope that I was just as naive and innocent as they are now.

It's fun to remember each passing year with a theme, because it's nice to succinctly argue the case for one's maturing.  I don't know if I have a theme anymore.  2009 was In Repair.  2010 was Golden Years. 2011 was... what?  Another song with a great melody?  A catchphrase to boost my good choices and gloss over my poor choices?  Let's see if I can find a common thread somewhere.

In January I took a giant step forward in my spiritual journey and progression, one that was completely my own, and one that wasn't even necessary.  I did it because I enjoy doing things on my own terms (but you all know this), and because it was absolutely the right thing to do.  I also kissed a friend who I will continue to kiss for life, because it is true love.

February was full of relapse and frustration.  Like I've said before, I hate February.

I won a crown in March.  That was neat.

April brought me a boy after a dance party.  It was very BYU, the way it all happened.

May was a whirlwind of road trips, plane rides, and insecurity, capped off with a resignation from what probably would have been a trip to Miss America after finally experiencing that weird and unsettling and intoxicating feeling of quite literally falling in love with someone.

June generated employment, which I now see as the second greatest blessing God gave me this year.  If it were not for that job I would have been stuck in the abyss of what happened in the middle of June, when I realized why I should not fall in love with people.  I also realized that even the people you love the most, and the people you give the most to will still fail you.

July sounded like Lady Gaga.  Also, no more radio show.  Sad, but sometimes you have to give your time to that which pays the bills.

August had pool parties and giant sleepovers in the party house and permanent employment and new roommates and new friends and girls in bikinis and boys in euro-shorts.

The coolest part of this second greatest blessing came to me in September.  I'm never content with mediocrity (despite what my abysmal blog has shown you this year) or stagnancy, so when the opportunity to be promoted came, I jumped at it.  Never would I have imagined myself in retail, and never would I have imagined myself as someone with style, but the opportunities keep on coming and I am one of those lucky people who can say she genuinely loves her job.  All because of a little interview with Mama Speters.

I was Black Swan in October.  That is all.  Actually, it's not.  I kissed one of my best friends, which wasn't really the smartest thing to do.  Whoops.  Oh well.  Still love him anyway.

I'm sure something cool happened in November, like some sort of life changing event, but all I can really think of right now is that I had a lot of really delicious turkey on Thanksgiving Day.  Oh yeah, I had to quit dancing.  That wasn't so cool.  But a necessary thing to do in order to be the person that I want to be.  Mike McShinsky is one of the best people I know - I'm a better person for the time I got to spend with him.  It was an honor, Michael.  Also, I think my addiction to Dr. Pepper hit full force in November.  No turning back.

So how's this last month been?  Long.  Hard.  Exhausting.  I gained some remarkable clients, have gone on more formal dates than the rest of the year all-together, went to Disneyland for 40 hours, bought a designer handbag (and no, not the low-end part of a label), and became less of a pansy and a little more bad A all around, mostly thanks to a well-timed haircut.  All of the above have been surrounded by a lot of family... a lot more family than I'm used to, and it's been so wonderful.

You know what?  This may be the first time that I don't regret anything I did this year.  I mean, maybe I regret some of the nights I ate Taco Bell instead of Del or all of the Mr. Pibb I had to drink instead of Dr. Pepper because my employer doesn't carry any.  And I did regret a couple of purchases, but I rectified those by returning them.  Outside of that, I look at my life, and I look at my choices (I see what I did there!) and I'm really content with how I've allowed some things to happen to me and how I've taken charge when things got a little too far outside of my control.

2011 started really well, and it took a couple of sharp nose dives, but I managed to find ways to pull it all off eventually.  Lots of tears and fruit snacks were needed, and I became really grateful for a temple recommend.  But mostly I see the common thread of what I know without doubt or insecurity: I have faith in a loving God who enables us with multiple pathways, many of which are good ones.  I've been allowed to choose my path, and while some of my choices have been rash, I'd like to believe that even though I'm not always the person I want to be, God knows my heart and what my end game is.  And helps me to get there.

In many ways I'm just trying to do what I knew to be true as a little girl - move with faith knowing that I'm loved and cared for.  Hopefully my nieces and nephews have the chance to learn that, too, because even the young and innocent deserve to see where faith can take you through the years.

A toast to more water drinking, gym going, sleep acquiring, Brandon Flowers' listening, money making, and spiritual training in 2012.

Cheers.

prettiest thing I ever did see.

When I was a kid, I was home schooled.  A few of you probably didn't know, and those who didn't know could probably guess - at the very least it helps everything make sense (oh, that's why she's so awkward).  It's because I was the over-programmed child, always singing or dancing or piano-ing or figure skating or babysitting.

Yeah.

Babysitting.

For reals.

Somehow, this amazing family entrusted me with their children when I was eleven.  They basically needed someone to watch their kids each day, and I was cheaper than a nanny, and I didn't have to be in school (honestly, my childhood sort of rocked, now that I think about it), and for nearly three years I watched their children in the mornings while doing my studies, or in the evenings while they were at Yankee games, or even overnight.  I remember their first apartment, their house next to the church building, and then when they rebuilt it.  I still remember the first time my mom told me Sister Humphrey had called looking for someone to watch her youngest son the next day.

That son is now a teenager and tall!  The oldest daughter recently got married!  The middle son is getting ready to serve a mission!  They have like a bajillion more siblings that I don't even know!

Where did the time go?

Five years ago I figured I'd win Miss Utah in a few months, do the Miss America thing, get married, and probably have a kid somewhere around the year 2010/2011.

Yeah.

That didn't happen.

Part of what I love about my job is seeing old friends and acquaintances whom I've not seen for long periods of time - and then boom, suddenly they're right there with shoes or sweaters and instead of working, we reminisce and relive some of those joyful memories.  Truthfully, it can be hard telling them of the failures I've had.  I try really hard to not see certain things as failures.  Being an educated 24-year old with a wonderful career ahead of her isn't anything to be ashamed of, but there are just all of these what-could-have-beens.  So when someone asks about my pageant goals and dating life, and I tell them something along the lines of, "well, after five tries I finally got it in my head that I wasn't going to be Miss Utah County, and I obviously wasn't going to be Miss Utah, and yeah, I ended up being Miss Henderson, but then I actually dropped out of Miss Nevada for Reason-X and Reason-Y and now I've aged out, and nope, sadly he and I didn't get married, and that one got married to a cute girl who is nothing like me, and that other one and I definitely didn't get married, and the first one is now marrying someone else".

.....

It's sort of a lot, right?

It's a lot for me to take in when learning about my friends who have the opportunity to be married and start families.  Because even though I love my job, and I love the idea of always working, and I love providing for myself, I would give anything to be a mom.

I loved babies when I basically was one, and I loved babies when I played with them at church, and I loved babies when I got paid to play with them, and I loved babies when my siblings started having them, and I loved babies all the time and I've never stopped.

Being married, and being a mother, and being on that path is in my future.  I'm sure it is.  I have faith it is.  And I'm happy - whether I need convincing or not... I am happy.  I'm determined to have a positive attitude, especially because I don't understand why I'm on a path that seems so utterly foreign to everything I thought I'd have.  I don't understand why most of the things I dreamt about are now beyond me.  I don't understand why God defined this particular lane of the highway for me.

It's okay.  I don't feel bad about being a little sad tonight, as I look at my friend's sweet families - even with all of the things that I know they endure (as we all must endure), mostly because I do have that faith.

A sweet friend I ran into at work reminded me that it'll make sense when it is supposed to (I'm a writer - I should remember that).  Luckily she also said that I've got a glow... so maybe I am going to be okay.

every moment was so precious.

All of my bloggy friends have been doing updates on where they are currently in their lives.  I sort of feel like joining the herd.

1. Working at Nordstrom, in case you hadn't picked up on it or in case we aren't actually friends.  It's retail, but I think I'm going to stay forever.  Serious.  I absolutely adore it.

2. Living in SLC but moving back to Provo very, VERY soon.  Found a wonderful condo in a great area.  Stay tuned for more with that.

3. Made some remarkable friends this summer.  I'm not someone who makes friends easily - at least not in my definition of friendship, but for whatever reason I was placed in a group of truly great people and I've really loved getting to know them and growing to love them.  I'm so lucky.

4. Single and [drumroll] LOVING IT.  Serious!  Never thought I'd see the day, but I'm really enjoying dating and meeting people and not being in a relationship.  It was difficult at first, but I'm such a fan of it now.

5. Still baby hungry, which means I won't be single forever.

6. Eating a lot and not working out at all.  That needs to change.

7. Dancing Smooth and Standard with Mike McShinsky.  It's pretty wonderful, actually.  I'm so excited to keep progressing with this.  And wait till you see the dresses.

8. Eating Del Taco Funnel Cake Fries has brought me unprecedented happiness.

9. Went Back to Black today.

10. Have gel nails and I'm officially obsessed.

Basically, I live a dreamy existence.

from the vault.

courtesy of mr. masters.

and as a little secret: you know how he sort of kisses her face ever so slightly and they both glow?  Take it from someone who's felt that recently - it's the BEST.  Yup.  Totally cheered me up.

about face!

Tonight I received a creepy text asking where I was and if I was safe.  Don't worry.  I lied.

But it prompted me to go to the Deseret News site to see if someone was running crazy around Provo with explosive devices, and while I didn't see any of that, I did see some of this.

We all know how much I love kids, and I can promise you that I want to protect their innocence, innocence that is so fleeting thanks to the technology we're blessed and sometimes cursed to have.  But let me ask you this: why in the world are you letting your 5-year-old watch television you haven't pre-approved when it's past seven in the evening?  Once 8 o'clock hits, parents need to have better control of their TV's, because that's when primetime rules for sex, language, and violence come into effect.

Was the show she saw total trash?  I'm sure it was.  I never saw it.  I tend to avoid those low budget shows that are syndicated because no one company wants to claim them.  Obviously I don't want children exposed to indecent material, but it blows my mind that a TV exec would pretend that the fault was with indecency laws rather than his own inability to parent in his home.  He should know better... better than most because he's surrounded by it.

Finally, this article cites statistics of children who experience violence, harsh language, and sexually explicit content because of a television in the home.  What about those kids who experience all of that because their parents are inept and incapable?  Are there some individuals who don't care who they corrupt?  Yeah, probably.  But is the mass media all-consumed with ruining every kid's innocence?  I may be cynical, but I'm not that cynical.

Besides.

Go turn on a news channel.

Tell them to start regulating what they show 24/7.

Yeah, good luck with that.

creative [literary] vomit.

Right now, I should be going through the world's most complicated study guide (Intro to Islam, test #2 aka Recognize Every Single Mosque That Has Been Built and Say Why Anyone Cares), and instead I'm agreeing with Phillip Lopate.  Let's change it from creative nonfiction to literary nonfiction, mmmkay?  He is also validating me.

I’m arguing more for reflective nonfiction where thinking and the play of consciousness is the main actor.

Bless you, Mr. Lopate.

I feel old and extremely unaccomplished.  I feel old and bored and boring and old and single.  I feel old and single and too self-aware and old and still in school and SINGLE.  I also feel inadequate.  Sure, I'm doing better than those kids who can't go to college or who can't read.  At least I don't have a communicable disease.  At least I'm not Lindsey Lohan.  You might understand the feeling, though.  The feeling that comes with being 23 and single and still working on an undergrad and the oh-my-gosh-I-have-so-much-potential-there-are-so-many-things-I-want-to-do-and-can-do-what-the-hell-am-I-going-to-do-money-school-family-job-cheese.

Roughly like that, right?

There are people who read this blog and I'm sorely tempted to name them.  People who are currently living what I would consider to be a dreamy existence.  Of course, we all know that's not possible, because everyone deals with their fair share of blah blah blah.  But just once I'd like to say, *coughKatieAPulsiphercough* I hate you a little right now.

This is also about the time that I smack myself.  What am I doing?  What do I want to be doing?  What do I even care about?  How do I synthesize all of my passions into a pretty little box that can be categorized in a three-word statement?  Why haven't I learned this yet?  Why did I stay the same exact weight for four months, trying EVERYTHING, only to gain three pounds in two days?

This is what I like to call a rut.  Not a depressive rut - I've dealt with plenty of those.  An existential rut?  Maybe - although, I don't need you to send me any videos of where I'm from and where I'm going and God's eternal plan of happiness.  A karmic rut?  Most certainly.  Boo Karma.  I'm willing to buy that I deserve this on some level.

Perhaps the correct word is boredom.  Being bored isn't fun.  Being bored and allowing yourself to stay bored?  That's just stupid.

That is also me.

Why am I stupid?  Well, let's look at the things I'm currently most passionate about:

*Writing essays
*Commentating on politics, philosophy, religion, and any other issue that causes lots of war.
*Becoming Miss Nevada
*Babies
*Chuck Bass
*Black Swan

School is good, and school is wonderful, but as of right now, the only classes that are helping me move forward in my passions are my creative writing class and my Islamic class (although apparently everything I'm being taught is WRONG).  Most of my time is devoted to school: going, not going, thinking about going, deciding to stay in bed, dragging myself out of bed, driving, studying at school, studying at home, thinking in the car about school, dreaming about school (including a series of dreams about Mrs. Abbott, a teacher from high school - I'd really love to stop having those).

I'm not very content with my life (shocker).  I've been in a rut.  I've been okay with boredom.

I vowed to be okay with not being perfect, not be okay with being a slug who eats lots of Rhodes bake-at-home rolls (Neil votes ice cream; I vote rolls).

So how can I work toward my passions?

Well, I do love babies, but I also love holding a temple recommend and I'd rather have them after I'm married.  Whining about my singleness isn't very helpful, and I'm pretty sure God is doing it on purpose, so I'm going to try to be zen about all of this and just let the Universe figure it all out (note: this is a lie).

I love Chuck Bass, but he's not real.  So that's a stupid passion.

I also love Black Swan, and I don't care if it's weird (and also not real) - I will accept my connection to Portman's character.  Thank goodness for the soundtrack and for Tchaikovsky and for lesbians and for Oscar DVD screeners.

Becoming Miss Nevada requires becoming Miss Something-or-Other in between.  No practicing can occur right now because I have to grow my nails out for Nationals, but March 18th?  Nails are getting cut and lots of piano playing will happen.  Tune back in sometime around the beginning of April to see if this is even going to happen.

This takes me to the two things that probably make me happiest (besides making out and babies; baby making will probably be included in this one day): I love writing essays and I love stating my opinion.  But why don't I read essays?  How do I not subscribe to The New Yorker?  How do I not own Lopate's numerous volumes?  How can I call myself a student and disciple of creative [literary] nonfiction if I don't actually read any?

So I'm making an addendum to my new year's vow.

I will read a nonfiction piece every day.  I will also read The Economist because I'm really bad with economic issues.  I will act like I actually want to pursue a career in TV/Radio by actually e-mailing a certain Mr. Hannity.  I will be okay with the fact that I like personal essays.  Lopate wants us to write nonfiction in a more reflective way, not just painting a picture of someone who did something interesting, but painting a picture of someone who thinks things that are interesting.

I will become someone who thinks interesting things.

Maybe I will become someone who thinks mostly-interesting things.

But dammit!  I will get out of this rut!

Rah rah go team.

Cue Divo's Whip It.

in need of some zen.

A tool is making me mad.  It's on facebook.  Of course.  Can I PLEASE not take my work home with me?

In better news, I had to write a fiction scene (aka not real aka something I suck at) for my creative writing class, and at the end my teacher called me out for totally being an essayist.  It's true.  I cheated.  After tomorrow night at 7 p.m., my life will be virtually complete (a couple of notable exceptions there, but I'm working on it).

So I give you Leah's Pet Shark.  Oh, and the photo that inspired it.

I’m in charge of watching Leah today.  It’s not my actual job.  I don’t make any money.  I’m not going to get any references out of it.  There won’t be any real benefit to doing this.  But it’s my job, regardless.  Leah’s two, maybe three, and she has this crazy blonde hair – crazy not because it’s long, but because it looks like the perfect straw color.  It’s short, and if you didn’t know better, you’d probably think she was a boy, but then she smiles her fang-like grin that lights her face in that girl sort of way.  She’s so tiny.  I really have no way to decipher just how old she is from her size.  She’s tall, but she’s skinny, and her features are as delicate as they were when she was born.  Well.  Maybe her head’s a little smaller.  This family has big heads.  But she’s old enough to swim and she’s young enough to swim during the day in early September when everyone else is in school. 

            The phrase Indian Summer seems so racist, I hesitate saying it out loud, but I think that’s what you would call today’s weather.  Warm enough to swim at that point in the calendar year when the pool water should be unbearably cold.  So baby Leah (because how could I see her as anything else) runs into the house, throws on her frilly, pink bikini (because that’s the right sort of image to give her at this age), and grabs her blue and pink flotation device.  Leah has a big sister, Hannah, and Hannah is a wuss.  Leah is therefore a wuss.  Hannah’s scared of her own shadow, which leaves Leah scared of Hannah’s shadow, and her own. 

            If only she could carry her flotation device with her everywhere. 

            There’s nothing else for me to do but sit at the side of the pool and watch her float around in the clear, saline solution water.  Sometimes she steps up to the side of the pool, prepared to leap in.  Sometimes she wades in through the stairs.  Today must be a bold day because she jumps and creates almost no splash at all as she lands in the three feet of water, hindered by that flotation.  She fights against the water, moving centimeters at a time as she paddles along in that little circular floatie.  I’m not a photographer, and I don’t take great videos, but I love pointing my point-and-shoot at her, capturing her babble.  Something about a shark?  She and a shark are becoming friends?  Oh, the pool cleaner is the shark.  Yes, that makes sense.  Leah goes close to the shark and splashes some water in its general direction, and then quickly turns around to swim back.  “Quickly” being a loose interpretation.  But this must be a senior citizen of a shark because she paddles along and along and finally, after days of paddling, comes to the side of the pool I’m sitting upon and yells loud enough for my camera, “I made it!”

            When I ask her about the shark, she says that the shark reassured her he wouldn’t eat her, and she makes her way back out to the middle of the pool to rendezvous with her new shark friend.  She had given me an indication that she might physically assault the shark on this trip, and I see her foot move all blurry-like through the water.  On her return trip, she takes her sweet time and I discover that in exchange for her poking him (“I’ma poke him!”), he’ll just sit down there at the bottom of the pool sucking up leaves and water bugs, enduring her poking.  What a good shark for Leah to play with.  Then she pushes off the side and shows me her new trick, which involves almost floating on her back – that floatie gets in the way.  And as she floats there, her arms outstretched behind her head, her feet almost breaking the surface of the water, I capture a photo of her blissful moment in that September sunshine, and I capture a glimpse of what I used to feel like.    

influenza

Oh how I love thee.  How I love sitting in my bed, unable to watch Gossip Girl, or read, or play on the internet, or go to the gym, or hang out with friends, or snuggle with the baby.  There were things I had hoped to do for the end of 2010 and the beginning of 2011, things I had hoped to complete before school begins, but this illness had other plans.  First, it attacked Casey.  Then it attacked Wayne.  Then it hit me.  And then Melissa, and Leslie, and the kid, and Scott, and Garrett, and Jared.  It didn't hit Whitney and it didn't hit Amanda.  I hate them and their perfect immune systems.  Mine is clearly not perfect.  Guess I'm just not immune.

I think I'm going to be okay with that, though.  Resolutions are made to be broken, but in years past I've resolved to change something, or to at least attempt change.  Living dangerously (love me some Nietzsche) is always floating around the top of the list.  Adopting some of Benjamin Franklin's advice is a popular one, too.  But this year, I need to remember that slow and steady wins the race.  Success does not equal perfection, and success does not equal happiness.  I wish to find the joy in my failures, my inadequacies, my frustrations, and my mediocrity.  Because I believe once reconciled with that fact, I will be able to grow and change and develop in a way that will last.  I won't burn myself out and I will be there on a path with my loved ones.  I know it's possible to be successful, and happy, and calm, and a little bit perfect, and a little bit mediocre: the people I look up to the most espouse all of these traits.

The trick in 2011 is going to be starting my own path of successful mediocrity - finding those ways in which I can excel and being completely content with other areas of imperfection.  So I vow to be honest, if not to you, then to Whitney, or to Emily, or to Erika, or to Leslie, or to Melissa.  And I vow to be honest to the Lord, because he provides the only true reconciliation.

I also vow to move on, play lots of Settlers of Catan, read more novels, do my laundry more often, and go to the temple monthly.

But if I'm imperfect?  If I fall short?  I vow to be okay and try again the next day.

the trimmings

No sleep.  Perfect candy.  Pure fat in the form of scones.  A cute missionary phone call.  Assembling baby toys (okay, finding a way to get the baby toys out of the boxes).  Clothing necessary for my next endeavor.  New makeup.  Games.  A Christmas song sent through a text message from a friend.  Inception with Whitney.

The makings of a near-perfect Christmas.

I'm not crazy.

I just like winking at little kids and smiling at them.  I'm not going to steal them away from you - I just like making children smile!  Why does everyone think this makes me even creepier than I already am?!

and on a completely unrelated note, Curt Holman is AWESOME.  My one regret for quitting BDC at BYU is that I never had the chance to be on his team (although I probably wouldn't have been put there anyway).

the best part of waking up

Is William smiling and giggling when he first sees me.

At least somebody loves me!

It's mah birthday

I'm currently watching William, the sweet 4-month old that I adore, and I'm sure something exciting will happen later.

My wishes for my 24th year of life (I'm 23...)?  I'd like to stop being so baby hungry and I'd like to start enjoying squash.  I'd also love to place in the top three at nationals and I'd love to find a way to be competing at a state pageant again.

Finally, I want to see more of my family.  I've been blessed with some great brothers who in turn have wonderful families that bring a lot of happiness to the Gulbrandsens.

Oh, one more thing.  I want to be able to bowl more than a 35.  Also, BYU, could you maybe not suck at football this year?  And could I please meet Joseph Gordon Leavitt at Sundance?  And could I become a rockin' snowboarder with Kenji?  Oh, and all MAC has to offer, I covet.

The end.

Welcome, 23 - let's try to not become a bitter unmarried Provo girl, mmmmkay?

baby.

I'm finishing up an editorial piece I'm writing on sex-ed in Utah and the song Accidental Babies came on through my iTunes shuffle.

good work.

choices feel good.

at least a few of mine do.

I'm glad I was cuddling a newborn, eating lunch with a friend, and preparing a package for someone far away instead of stressing about first impression versus closing it off strong and paperwork.

This is blissful contentment - being able to move on comfortably.

Cheers.

future rant: sex ed in Utah.

Dear individuals searching for information about my mom and her senate campaign, I can assure you that we do not agree on this subject.

An unnecessary and strange bill was passed in the state legislature last week.

If they can prove you recklessly miscarried your child, they can send you to prison.

Okay, I get it, a girl had her boyfriend beat her up (oh gosh) because she wanted to abort her baby, and you want to create a law in response. But how are you planning on providing proof in other instances?

Utah has some serious problems with educating teenagers about this sort of stuff. And for some reason, the Utah legislature just isn't getting it.

I still need to respond to all of your wonderful comments on my other entry, but think about all of this for a few days.

Here's my question for you.

Come out of the woodwork, oh readers of mine. There are a lot more of you than I let on and I want to hear your thoughts. After the crazy stuff that went down on the blog I linked to on my rant, I want to know what you think.

Please tell me your thoughts on what has become homemakers vs. career women (a divisive fight that is creating more problems for women). Feel free to disagree with me. In fact, please do! I won't enlist people to fight my cause for me. I won't mock you. If I don't know you, I will be respectful of your opinions. If I do know you, and if we disagree, I promise that I will still enjoy your friendship.

A word of caution, however. Blogging (and comments) are public. Don't post it if you can't take the heat. The only "rule" I have is to not attack or cheapen someone's testimony or faith in their religious preference simply because you disagree. That's just poor form and bad debate.

Let's have some good, intellectual discussion.

To the lurkers from you-know-where: Just because I think men can be soft and kind and women can be strong and ambitious doesn't mean I don't embrace being a woman. Such insinuations are petty, juvenile, and routed in an inability to discuss things intellectually. Also, Godly does not have a dash in it, just fyi.

have you seen it?

the winner for the best commercial this Olympics does not go to Visa, surprisingly. It goes to that Proctor&Gamble commercial with all the little kids. Ahhh, it kills me!