This is Why I'm Smart:

Here are a few things I know. These things make me smart. Ready, go:

• Jamba Juice makes everything better.
• John Mayer's Battle Studies is brilliant.
• I am absolutely terrified of my garage.
• Tylenol PM is my ultimate panacea.
• The atonement is real.
• Laughter is my favorite form of exercise.
• Broken hearts suck.
• Coldplay says what I feel.
• I am 87% sass.
• Centerville Beach is my "Somewhere Only We Know" place.
• Libby's is the best kind of pumpkin.
• Painting is therapeutic for me; also coloring.
• Slippers are among the most comforting things in this known world. That and kisses on the forehead.
  
• I hate MLA.
  
• Red Curry at the Thai place in Fortuna is too hot; Red Curry at the Thai place in Rexburg is just right.
• Driving past the Bay on 101 is my favorite part of my day.
• I hate texting.
• Alligators open their mouths to regulate their body heat. (Or something like that.)
• Facebook steals my sleep.
• My dream for my life changes twice daily.
• George Clooney is the modern version of Cary Grant.
  
• Being an optometrist would be sweet, because you could look at eyes all day long.
  
• Engagement pictures are funny. And mostly awkward.
• If ever you attempt to do laundry in the Mountain Pines laundry facilities, first of all don't, and second of all, NEVER use powder detergent.
• 98% of all men are babies. (No offense.)
• I can successfully operate a turnstile.
• Sometimes I think in terms of blogs and John Mayer lyrics.
  

This is why I'm smart. Thank you, and goodnight.

Such a Girl

Okay, so I don't like to admit this, but it needs to be done. Sometimes, I really am a pansy. I know, you are probably all shocked...or something... but it's true. Why do I bring said weakness up? Because a few recent trips to the gym have reminded me of what a girl I am. Lately, every time I got to the gym I stop half way through due to the fact that I am about to pass out. Now I would like to tell you that it's because I have had such an awesome workout and am achieving the status of "fully awesome." False. I am achieving the status of "fully lame," and it's kind of pissing me off. Not gonna lie. This whole working out thing didn't use to be an issue. I used to be able to work out for an hour and feel nothing but the sweet rush of exhaustion and endorphins charging through my body. Now, not so much. As I peel myself off of the machines, stumble over to get some water, and sit down with my head between my knees I feel nothing but defeat and frustration. What the St. Francis? Why do I fail at life?

One possible conclusion is that this past semester I had an awesome social life, which equals a not so awesome exercise routine. Another possible factor for my failure is that I did this thing called stop eating. Which was kind of bad. Not intentionally though; I'm not anorexic. Promise. I just hate eating; it takes up way too much time, and it's such a hassle. But apparently your body needs foods and nutrients. Whatever. So maybe I'm nutrient deprived, and my body can't handle running at freaking 6 miles an hour. What the heck? Suck it up body. Suck it up.

So now I'll just try to re-build my endurance and my pride, and complete a full work out without having to stop and rest like a girl... Pray for me. Thank you, and goodnight.

Dear Future:

Dear Future,

Please bless that I marry someone dashing. Sort of a Cary Grant figure. That would be great. Thanks.

Your Truly,

Emmilie

Thank you, and goodnight.

Singles Ward

Almost two years ago today, I attended my first singles ward. This does not include college wards. That's another story in an of itself. Now, I have been to a few since then, but this ward in Arizona was my first. That was a funny time of life. I had just finished my first semester of college, and was home in Prescott for four months. That was back when I was still pretty socially awkward, and can you believe it? Shy... Truth. It was also a time of life when I was still trying to figure out who I was, and find peace with it. Ah, the joys of youth. It's fine. Today, I will be going to yet another singles ward. It's slightly entertaining to me this time, seeing how much I have grown up. Now I just don't bloody care what people think of me. It's totally awesome. It also helps that I will be leaving in about a month to go serve the Lord, so it doesn't really matter how people perceive me. I do what I want, fools. Eat it. How cool is it to be able to see your progression? I love that. I also love the fact that I know that I can engage people in conversations without being awkward. That is also wonderful. Thank you, Orlando for teaching me ward social skills. Now, when you read this don't get the impression that I was a menace to society just two short years ago. False. But anyone who knew me then and knows me now will admit that I've shed that awkward sweater. Now sometimes I put it back on for fun. You know, strictly nostalgic purposes. It's fine. But for the most part I am a capable and confident adult. So eat it sucka.

It also helps that I have had some experience in singles wards, as well as those nonsensical college wards. I know who to avoid, who NOT to hit on, and who to flirt with shamelessly. It's great. I also highly love how every singles ward is essentially the same, and you know what to expect. This time I will probably meet a hippie or two. I heart you, Arcata. Thank you, and goodnight.

Essence of Emmilie

Sometimes there are lyrics to songs that describe my life, or more realistically, my outlook on life. They speak to my soul, and help me to find the words to explain how I feel. In essence, these lyrics are Emmilie.

So come over, just be patient and don't worry.

Anything less than "I love you" is lying.

Do I have to fall asleep with roses in my hands?

Oh what good is it to live with nothing left to give, forget but not forgive, not loving all you see?

Maybe when things turn green again it will be good to say you know me.

Oh love, don't let me go. Won't you take me where the streetlights glow? I can hear rain coming, like a serenade of sound, now my feet won't touch the ground.

It's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard, oh it's a hard, it's a hard rain, gonna fall.

This is the deep and dying breath, this love that we've been working on.

I noticed tonight that the world has been turning while I've been stuck here dithering around.

I know the heart of life is good.

Monday you can fall apart, Tuesday, Wednesday, break my heart Thursday doesn't even start, it's Friday I'm in love.

I could write a song, a hundred miles long, well that's where I belong and you belong with me.

I get by with a little help from my friends.

Tears stream down your face; I promise you I will learn from my mistakes. Tears stream down your face And I...will try to fix you.

I never meant to cause you trouble; I never meant to do you wrong.

If only I don't bend and break, I'll meet you on the other side; I'll meet you in the light.

The sun is up; the sky is blue; it's beautiful, and so are you.

I could write it down, and spread it all around; get lost and then get found, not swallowed in the sea.

I'm the hero of this story, don't need to be saved.

This is my life. My life is beautiful. Thank you, and goodnight.

Patience

So there was this one time when God told me to be patient. Little did I know how serious he in fact was about that. Little did I know what a blessing this would be in my life. But guess what? Patience is still hard. It's hard to sit back, and let it all happen. It's hard to wait. But knowing that God knows best, and that he has a plan for me, one that equals happiness is what gets me through. So I'll hang in there; I'll be patient; I'll have faith. I love him. He loves me. It all works out. God lives. Thank you, and goodnight.

Progression

Christmastime has come again. I can't believe how much has happened in a year. It was quite the year, my friends. Quite the year. And as I look into 2010, I can only imagine how much is going to change still. It never ceases to amaze me how much our Father in Heaven loves us. He teaches us in the ways that teach our minds as well as our hearts. He stretches us in ways we never thought we could. He molds us into the sons and daughters we are destined to become. Now granted, progression isn't always the funnest of activities. Sometimes it pulls your heart out. Sometimes it pulls your hair out. Sometimes it makes you want to punch someone in the face. But everytime, when "what has to be has been," it makes you thank your Lord and maker for his goodness and mercy for helping you to become that which you never thought you could have. He has taken a peice of coal and turned it into a diamond. Truly, we are all precious jems in his sight, thanks to his infinite love and wisdom. Thank goodness for the atonement that makes us more each day. Thank goodness for our Heavenly Father's perfect plan; a plan of happiness; a plan of redemption; a plan of peace. How I love God. How I love his plan for me. How I love his children. How I love progression. Thank you, and goodnight.

Here's to You, 2009

So I have decided that this year has been good to me. I learned a lot. A whole lot. I experienced a ton. As per usual, it was a year of ups and downs, goods and bads where ultimately the good always outweighs the bad. I've been doing a bit of introspection lately, one of my favorite things to do... and realized that I have grown more in this last year than I ever thought I possibly could. I found myself this year- it was quite a lovely discovery. Indeed, looking back this time last year is almost a laughable thing, simply because of how much I have changed. And then as I look into how much is going to change in the next year, I know that I will be laughing still. Thank goodness that this life is all about progression. Thank goodness I can look back on this past year, grateful for everything that happened. It all helped me learn, love and grow. I'm better because of it. So here's just a little smattering of all that happened this past year:

Fell in love with Orlando.

Interned for Disney World.

Met some celebrities.

Dressed like a Grandma for work at Epcot. Sexy.

Had my first taste of missionary work.

Ate lots of sushi.

Danced it out on numerous occasions.

Went hotel hot tubbing.

Caught a gator with my bare hands.

Danced it out Disney style.

Met Mickey Mouse when Kinsey came to visit.

Had my bridal shower at the Grand Floridian. You heard me.

Watched the NBA Finals and had some intense Kobe faces.

Went on many a Wendy's run.

Dressed like a paleontologist for work at Animal Kingdom.

Spooned with Dale.

Went to the beach with my lovelies often.

Ate the Kitchen Sink on the 4th of July.

Used my swimsuit to death.

Met a Pez dispenser.

Went to Warped Tour, and almost died in a Mosh Pit.

Turned 21, went to a real bar...and ordered Shirley Temples...

Discovered Twistee Treat.

Slummed it with Obama.

Went to the fair with my family.

Finally got my face painted.

Discovered that California beaches are much colder than Florida beaches.

Went to a firetruck parade.

Turned in my mission papers, and got called to Billings, Montana.

Went back to school.

Survived Mass Media.

Made lots of friends.

Fell in love with a boy.

Said lots of goodbyes.

Went to a tractor parade.

So here's to you, 2009. Thank you, and goodnight.

Y Chromosome

Okay, so the past three days have found me more offended than I have been in quite a long time. Perhaps offended is the wrong word. I don't normally get offended. I think being offended is a stupid choice.I just get passionate. And by passionate I mean I get mad- some of the time. This was one of those times. What caused said passion and anger? Well, I attend BYU-Idaho. Indeed, it is a wonderful place. Some jokingly refer to it as "The Lord's University." Well I have a thing or two to say to those people. The Lord loves his daughters, and does not appreciate when proud, chauvinistic men demean and degrade them, thank you very much. In the past two days I have taken more hits on my current state as a woman than I remember in quite a while. Last time I checked there was nothing wrong with not possessing said blessed Y chromosome, and to all those of you out there who consider me defective, or dare I say it, inferior, I say in the most lady like way possible: eat it sucka. The other day in my English class we watched a youtube video entitled, "Women, know your limits." Look it up. I dare you. It taught a supposedly valuable lesson. Women apparently should never express their thoughts out loud. Instead, we are expected to keep quiet about such things as politics, the environment, sports, the economy and other such intellectual conversations. How cute that a woman has an opinion, but how foolish of her to share it. Well here I am. I am sharing my opinion: You are an arrogant, male chauvinistic pig. I'd like to have a battle of wits with you any day. I understand that this was a joke. I am sensible enough to know that this was intended to make people, mostly male, laugh. (Yes, I know I am a woman, but women have their moments of sensibility too. Shocker, I know.) However, my professor continued to tell all of the women to "know their place." Whether it be in getting dessert, or expressing their opinions, he never once refrained from reminding me what my supposed place was. I was fully under the impression that my so-called place was at the side of a man. Neither in front or behind him, thank you. Yet I am perfectly capable of standing all by myself. It's pretty awesome. I don't need a man to tell me where my place is. Oddly enough I am more than capable of figuring it out for myself. Thank you. It's situations like these and countless others that occur in rapid succession all over campus that absolutely infuriate me. I am woman. Hear my passion. And guess what? I wrote all of that by myself; without the help of a man. I suppose your wretched little Y chromosomes are overrated after all. Thank you, and goodnight.

I'm an Adult

This got me through thick and thin, good and bad. This will make you smile. A little bit a lot.



Thank you, and goodnight.

Vows

I, Emmilie Buchanan, hereby solemnly promise that in 12 years, when I take engagement pictures, I will never take pictures by the railroad tracks. Also, I promise to never take a picture with an awkward couple pose, unless it is done so mockingly. This I swear on pain of death. Thank you, and goodnight.

Anthem

There's surely somewhere a lowly place in earth's harvest field so wide,
Where I may labor through life's short day for Jesus, the Crucified.
So, trusting my all to thy tender care, and knowing thou lovest me,
I'll do thy will with a heart sincere,
I'll be what you want me to be.

I'll go where you want me to go, dear Lord,
Over mountain or plain, or sea;
I'll say what you want me to say, dear Lord,
I'll be what you want me to be.

Thank you, and goodnight.

Failure.

BYU-Idaho makes finals hard. They don't have a 24 hour library. Fail. They also don't sell caffeinated beverages on campus. Double fail. So instead I shall pray. Please bless that I can finish my 15 page paper- yes the one I just started- by tomorrow at 10:15. Thank you, and goodnight.

Perfect World

In a perfect world, Joseph Gordon Levitt would be my boyfriend. Just saying. Thank you, and goodnight.

Sass You

Sometimes I feel like I live my life on a sassy meter. Today, I'm averaging from anywhere between an 8.7 to a 9.4. Yeah, watch out. I'll sass you. It's the kind of night that I have to remind myself that Christmas means the birth of Jesus, so I can't make sarcastic comments about it. It's the kind of night when you are more likely to get an eye roll from me than a smile. It's the kind of night where I won't hold back, I'll tell you how I really feel, and I'll look you dead in the eye when I do it. It's the kind of night when I just might punch you in the face. It's the kind of night where I have a witty, generally biting comment for everything. Oh, don't misunderstand me. I'm not mad. In fact I feel great. Just about 5.2 points more sassy than normal. Don't worry about it. It's fine. Just enjoy this, and if you are inclined to take things personally, I'll just talk to you tomorrow. Peace it. Thank you, and goodnight.

Desires of My Heart

Pretty sure I wish I was black. Then I could sing amazing. This is not a new desire. After I saw Dreamgirls how long ago? I was convinced that I wanted to be black. Yep. It's true. But alas, I am nothing but a white girl, and will never be fully awesome. So here's to all you divas out there. Sing is sister, just sing it. Thank you, and goodnight.

More Truth

Once again, it was time to press the refresh button on my life. It was time to snap out of it. It was time to look up. It was time to step forward, and with hope walk towards what God has called me to do. I read this scripture this morning, and it filled my soul with peace.

"Wherefore, ye must press forward with a steadfastness in Christ, having a perfect brightness of hope, and a love of God and of all men. Wherefore, if ye shall press forward, feasting upon the word of Christ, and endure to the end, behold, thus saith the Father: Ye shall have eternal life." 2 Nephi 31:20

All is well.

Thank you, and goodnight.

Truth

I still love him.

Thank you, and goodnight.

Snowmen

Okay, so this is funny. Today I was at work. That's not so funny, but this part is: I was proctoring in the Music Room. The Music Room is great for many reasons. One of which being that it has windows. You can look out them, and know that the sun still does shine even when you are in such a wretched place. It's fine. Today, I look out of said windows and what do I behold? The sun? Well yes. Also, I saw a 7-foot tall snowman walking, yes walking across the quad. Um, what? Yes. I am right. It was one of the most bizarre things I have ever seen in my life. I ran to the window, and stared in a sense of warped fixation. It was one of those moments where you worry about yourself, because you are in fact watching a 7-foot snowman go for a little stroll. There were two girls walking towards the snowman, and they looked just as baffled as I felt. The snowman just offered a little wave to them. They laughed, and kept walking. For about 47.3 seconds after the snowman passed out of sight, I stood there staring. That had just happened. Still, I cannot fully fathom what the crap that was. But there you go. Then I laughed out loud. Thank you, and goodnight.

-30

Do you know how cold it is outside? Too bloody cold. It's around this time in the semester that I stop leaving my house unless I absolutely have to. I always plan to leave, and go back to the library in hopes of being more productive. But then I walk home through the frozen-cold-19-degree tundra. "No way." I think to myself. I'm never leaving again. So then all I can do is have a hope and a prayer that I'll be able to motivate myself from my nice toasty bedroom. Please bless. Please bless. I hate the cold so much. Montana, here I come. Today some girl from there told me that on average it gets to be about -30. That's totally awesome. I'm terrified. Remember that one time I lived in a place that had an average of -30? That place was called Minnesota. Remember all of the horrible things that happened there? Yeah... that will be so great. God will bless me, right? It's fine. Thank you, and goodnight.

Tender Mercies

"...But Behold, I, Nephi will show unto you that the tender mercies of the Lord are over all those whom he hath chosen, because of their faith, to make them mighty even unto the power of deliverance." 1 Nephi 1:20

These past few weeks have been filled with tender mercies. Tender mercies come in the form of friends, encouraging words, validation, bishops, mission calls, phone calls, priesthood blessings, peace, fortuitous meetings, not having to sit alone, groceries, sister missionaries, family, words of affirmation, pumpkin pie, service, outlets.

God loves me so much. God loves me enough to give me hard things. God loves me enough to send tender mercies. God loves me enough to tell me no. God loves me enough to send me to Montana. God loves me enough to fulfill promised blessings. God loves me enough to reconfirm my faith whenever it starts to waver.

God is great. God is merciful. God is just.

Thank you, and goodnight.

Love

I love so many things in the world. David Beckham is one of them. Also, awkward moments. Thank you, and goodnight.

Feels Like:

Current weather for Rexburg, ID:

17. Feels like 8.

Current weather for Billings, MO:

32. Feels like 25.

Current weather for Ferndale, CA:

43. Feels like 43.

Current weather for Orlando, FL:

64. Feels like 64.

Right now, I feel like 8 degrees. Gross. And my immediate future is not looking too much warmer. I have much trepidation about Montana winters. Whenever I tell anyone that I'm going to Billings, there is the expected laughter, followed by the admonition to prepare for the cold. That's really comforting, thank you.

Dear Montana,

Please don't kill me with your wind, snow and overall cold exterior. I'll cry.

Love, Emmilie

Currently, I still feel like 8 degrees. Thank you, and goodnight.

Womanizer, Baby

I believe there is an epidemic among men. Now, while I have not fallen victim to this personally for a while, I have still been affected. I would venture to say that every woman at some point in her life has fallen prey to this disease. What is this disease I'm speaking of? Womanizer, you're a womanizer, baby. Indeed, men all over the world are busy left and right taking advantage of impressionable women who are swooning for their chauvinistic ways. What exaclty is a womanizer? Read on, dear friend. Read on.

Womanizer: [woo m-uh-nahy-zer]

-noun
a philanderer.

Womanize:

-verb
to pursue women lecherously.

There you have it. A womanizer is nothing more than a foolish man who goes around making each and every woman he comes into contact with feel special. Feel like the exception. Feel like they have a spark. Feel pretty. Feel good. Now, is it wrong to make another individual feel good, feel special, and feel pretty? False. Is it wrong to do so with the intention of leading said woman on, while never intending to have any sort of commitment to her? Truth.

Stop reading right now, and ask the closest woman to you if she knows such a man. I imagine something like this will happen. Her eyes will roll in disgust; her jaw will jut forward, and her overall countenace will turn to irritation and animosity, as she shakes her head with fire in her eyes. "Yes." She is sure to reply. She knows of such a man. "Steve." "Hank." "Jerry." "Tom." "Billy." "Danny." "Bobby." "Rick." "Dan." "Hal." Fill in whatever name you desire, his actions will be the same. She will then proceed to tell you in the most animated and passionate manner possible of why Hank, or Tom, or Bobby is scum of the earth. I'm sure his philandering will include flirting- with her and every other girl in the room. She will tell you of all the times they leaned in too close, or touched her arm or hand, or hair. It will include how she was convinced that he was in fact "in" to her. It is also sure to include the weeks and weeks she spent in between the flirting waiting and touching for Hank, Tom or Bobby to call her. It will include how attractive Hank, Tom or Bobby indeed is, and how naturally she couldn't just let it go; he is a hunk, and he made her feel special. She will then tell you how Hank, Tom or Bobby showed up to some party where he said he would meet her, and probably 4 other girls with some babe in red lipstick on his arm. That's when she and the 4 other girls took a hint, cried it out, ate some ice cream and started a bitter vendetta against Hank, Tom or Bobby.

It's a vicious cycle. But guess what? It happens every day. And until men like Hank, Tom and Bobby man up, realize the inflence they have on women, and decide to give them the respect they deserve, the cycle will just keep on repeating.

Now you know. You know what a womanizer is. Boy don't try to front, I know just what you are. Womanizer, baby. Thank you, and goodnight.

Go.

You know, some things in life are just confusing. Some things in life will rattle your brain. Some things in life make you laugh. Some things in life make you cry. Some things in life teach you to love, some teach you to live. Some things in life help you cope, and some things make you grow. Sometimes life teaches you to choose between what is safe and what is right. Life will always surprise you. Perhaps this is why I love life so much. Perhaps the true joy is found in the opposition; in the progression; in the triumphs. Truly, men are that they might have joy. So go. Have joy. Have life. Have love. Have heartache, and laughter, and sadness, and excitement. Have it all. Live life. Love life. Thank you, and goodnight.

Future

Dear Sister Buchanan:

You are hereby called to serve as a missionary of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. You are assigned to labor in the Montana Billings Mission. It is anticipated that you will serve for a period of 18 months.

You should report to the Provo Missionary Training Center on Wednesday, February 10, 2010. You will prepare to preach the gospel in the English language.

Sincerely,

God. And President Monson.

It happened. I finally got my mission call. 7 weeks after putting my papers in, many prayers, decisions, tears and testimony builders later- I have been called. To Montana. Bet you didn't see that one coming, did ya? Well me either, pal. But guess what? The more I ponder, the more I pray, I know that this is where I am supposed to be.

Not gonna lie- I am kind of terrified to go. I don't do small town very well. Oh, and did you know that Montana has the third lowest population density in the United States? Awesome sauce. Coincidentally, it is the fourth largest state. Ironic? Perhaps.

But guess what? I get to preach the gospel for the next 18 months of my life. That's worth living in Montana. That's worth tracking through farm country. I am so excited to serve my Lord. I know that this is the next step for me. And 20 bucks says that when I get back I can tell you anything you want to know about Montana, and have my Billings pride. Don't knock it till you try it, sucka!

This is cool: My mission covers the ENTIRE state of Montana, and part of Wyoming. Cool, huh? Don't deny it. You're jealous.

So on February 10, 2010 my life will forever change when I enter the MTC, learn how to teach by the spirit, and go forth, bearing testimony of my Savior, Jesus Christ. I can't wait. Montana, I heart you. Thank you, and goodnight.

Mental Capacity

Sometimes I think it would be funny to convince people that I'm crazy. This generally occurs when I catch myself doing something that a crazy person would do. Such as muttering to myself, laughing out loud when nothing funny happened, making awkward eye contact with someone because you either thought that they were looking at you, or that you knew them, or answering my text messages out loud. Actually, I do these kinds of things quite frequently. I have this problem where sometimes I get so into my thought process that halfway through it, I will say the climax of my thought out loud. That's kind of weird. I won't even deny it.

For example, one time when I was working for Red Robin, I was the only hostess with a drivers license, and coincidentally a car. Therefore I was the errand girl. I bought crayons, whipped cream, and an occasional Rock Star for the cooks. One week, Red Robin seemed to run out of something at least once a day, and I was called upon to make the Harmon's run. I was pondering this, and after an afternoon of "Hello, welcome to Red Robin! Have you tried the Whiskey River BBQ Burger?" my brain was desperate for some stimulating thoughts. So naturally I began to dissect my current state. I was slightly concerned because I was becoming such a regular shopper at this Harmon's grocery store that people were going to start to know me by name. Then, in my 17-year-old nonsense, I began to feel self conscious about always wearing the same thing there. (Which was nonsensical, becuase it was a uniform. It's okay. I was young and impressionable.) Anyways, I remember thinking long and hard about this. Luckily I came to the conclusion that it was a good thing that I owned two different colors of my Red Robin shirt. Therefore, they would not think I was so homeless-looking and poverty stricken. Now, here's the problem. Upon making this realization, I said this outloud while in the midst of a busy Harmon's parking lot: "Good thing I have two shirts or else they would think I was a hobo." Upon this declaration I recieved several looks that clearly questioned my mental capacity. I don't blame them. Maybe they didn't think I was a hobo, but they surely thought I was unstable. It's fine.

Again, I will admit that this is weird. But alas, it happens, and one day not too long from now I will not correct myself. I will not conform to the social norms. I will convince some innocent passerby that I am legitimately crazy. And then I shall laugh. Thank you, and goodnight.

Life Takes Intrigue

Life is interesting. I am reading my blogs from last November, taking a little gander at what life was like, and what my most pressing concerns were. This time last year I was waiting for my letter from Disney, still saying yes to awkward dates, and expressing some well played witty remark about the latest presidential election. Now, I am currently waiting for a mission call while trying to overcome idiotic people, mostly men, who try to tell me that I am wrong for serving a mission. Oh really? Why don't you go ask God on my behalf, for I am clearly not capable of receiving personal revelation myself, thank you very much.

It is highly interesting, however, seeing how much I have changed in the last year, and how much I have been prepared for my mission. A year ago I would not be as forward as I am now. A year ago I didn't write the way I do now. A year ago I didn't have as much confidence and self-assurance as I do. A year ago I still cared what people thought. A year ago I wasn't as brave. A year ago I didn't know what it meant to love someone. A year ago I didn't think I was going to serve a mission. A year ago I didn't trust God as much as I do now. A year ago I was from Arizona... kind of. A year ago I was scared.

Secretly, I'm still scared now. A mission is a scary thing. The future will forever scare me. The unknown is a frightening concept. Yet, in this moment, I know that God is with me, and will be forever. And in this moment, that is all that I need to put one foot in front of the other, and follow my Savior, knowing that because of him, "there is always hope smiling brightly before me."

See? Life is interesting. Thank you, and goodnight.

Where Do You Get Off?

I am sick of male chauvinistic pigs who try to tell me that the decisions I make in my life are wrong. How dare you. Thank you, and goodnight.

Team Jacob

Right, so I saw New Moon today. I expected to hate it, not gonna lie. But, for the most part, I actually highly enjoyed it. I won't lie, I laughed at the inappropriate time thrice, but can you blame me? The part when Edward and Bella were frolicking, yes frolicking, through the woods was enough to send a better woman than I though the roof. I mean, really? Who wrote that? Anyways, frivolous frolicking, and nonsensical slow-motion shots of Edward walking with his front shirt open, billowing in the wind aside, it was a decent film.

Confession: I am now Team Jacob. When I read the books, I was Team Edward all the way. But after the fateful casting of total fool Robert Pattinson, I made the best decision of my life, and stitched to Team Jacob. Bless you Taylor Lautner, bless you. Thank you for being brave, and in a cast of non-actors, having the audacity to show some integrity to your craft. Thank you for acting. And thanks for the extra 30 pounds of muscle. Nice touch.

Again, audiences were baffled by Edward Cullen and Bella Swan. You'd think that they wouldn't be nearly as awkward around each other, what after making a film together- twice, and oh I don't know, acting like they are in love. False. The awkwardness is just as prevalent, and painful as it was in the first film. Dudes, pull it together. You suck.

I highly enjoyed the wolves in this film. Way to be a pack, and way to be in the movie, whilst keeping me there as well. I enjoyed all the scenes without the vampires. They were the most believable, and the most real. Props.

Again, as a whole I enjoyed the film, and would see it again. Hopefully by the fourth one Bella and Edward won't be so bloody awkward. Thank you, and goodnight.

Guilty Pleasures:

• Jason Statham
• CS4
• Flo Rida
• Dark Chocolate
• The Beach
• Black & White Photography
• 80's Music
• Hot Rod
• Rock Band
• The Smell of Cedar
• New York City
  
• Ne-Yo
• Red Shoes
• Sweet Tomatoes
  
• Daisies
• Violin/Cello
• Blogging
  
• Jackets
• Art Museums
• Northern California
• David Beckham
  
• People Watching
• New York Burrito
• Old Movies- especially with Cary Grant and Jimmy Stewart
• Pumpkin Flavored Anything
• Playbill.com
• Hair Products
• David Archuleta's Crush (Don't judge me.)
  
• Gossip Magazines

Thank you, and goodnight.

EFY

Right, now don't take this the wrong way, but today I made a realization that I'm quite happy about. Today I was thinking about mutual acquaintances/friends. Those are always interesting situations. I love playing the insta-friend game. As I was thinking about said relationships, I was thinking about all of the random ways that my life is intertwined with those around me. I know so many people through the friend of a friend of a stranger who I know through a distant high school acquaintance. Or maybe we just had a class together or something. Of all the ways that I know people, I was so happy to realize that I never knew anyone from EFY. Now, I could not tell you why this created such satisfaction inside of my heart. While I think that EFY is a great thing, it was never for me. For several reasons. 1. I always equated EFY with dances. That was no bueno. Ever. I hated stake dances more than most detestable things in life, and on principle swore them off at age 15. 2. I hated the concept of being escorted around everywhere. I can walk by myself, thank you very much. 3. I thought it was nonsensical that a big part of EFY was "hooking up" with some 14-year-old hunk for a week. Now don't get the impression that I am in fact anti-EFY. On the contrary. I think it's a wonderful thing where teenagers can come unto Christ, and gain a testimony of him. Awesome. I just could never take all the excess of nonsense. With that being said, I stand by the fact that I'm so happy that I don't have ties to anyone awkwardly though EFY. One more little accomplishment in the life of Emmilie. Thank you, and goodnight.

Confession Session:

Now, to make my life easier, and the conversations less awkward, I tell people that I am from California. This is what we would call a fallacy.

Fallacy: a mistaken belief. The notion that Emmilie is from California is a fallacy.

I have only lived in California for two weeks of my life. It's fine. Yet it's just so much easier to say that I'm from California. I'm not really from anywhere else. This is why I return to the argument that goes a little something like this. "I'm from America. Eat it." (But people generally want a few more specifics. Selfish.) For the most part this fallacy, or mistaken belief, works out quite nicely. However, someone always seems to know someone from California. That poses a problem for me, because they then proceed to ask me geographical questions about my NOT home state. These are questions that I should know the answers to. Sadly all I really know is that I live in Northern California. San Diego and LA are south. That's all I've got. I've flown into Redding once before. I live next to the ocean. I think that the Oregon border is just a few hours north of me. I really don't know where Riverside is, even though when asked I will always feign recognition and understanding. You see, it's not that I'm a liar. Oh, no. I just refuse to say that I'm from Utah... and I'm not really from anywhere else. The life of a gypsy.... What more can I say? I have learned a lot though. I know that Eureka is different from Yreka. Yreka is north. I also know that Arcata is different from Arcadia. Arcadia is south. That makes me sound a little bit more legit when people ask. I'm basically a work in progress. And maybe someday I will learn the geography of my state. But until then, know that I'm basically a fallacy. Thank you, and goodnight.

Smile

This brought a smile to my face today. Smiles are good things.



Thank you, and goodnight.

Gypsy

Okay, so yesterday I had a little field trip to the bank. I met Patrick, and my theory was confirmed. I also came to another little realization. A realization that I had forgotten for a little while. It goes a little something like this: I really am a gypsy. I realized that every time I go to make some important transaction at the bank, or donate blood, or vote, or register for classes, or fill out an insurance waiver, or confirm a reservation, or try to mail a package home, or start a new job, I have to go through at least 4 different addresses to find out which one I last gave them. Take yesterday at the bank: I was closing a CD, and they asked me all of these security questions. I always fail these, and could be considered a high-level security threat because I always tell them the wrong address. They asked me the dreaded question, and I racked my brain to figure out which address I last gave them. I tried my physical address in California, and tried to remember my mailing address... (That's another problem in an of itself... in some places I have two addresses to remember. A PO Box, and a physical address. It's hard enough to remember what my current place of residence is let alone two possible addresses.) Fail. They had me down for an Arizona address. The physical address. It's fine. I sighed in exasperation and told them that we move a lot. Then my personal banker changed it to my California address. Bless him. Then Tommy, my poor personal banker, was bamboozled again when he saw that I had a Utah driver's license with yet another address on it. Sorry Tommy. You'll understand when you're older. Luckily I have tried to gain some semblance of order in my life and am now in possession of a California license. I gave him said license, he made the switcheroo, and I am a little bit closer to fooling the establishment that I am in fact from California. Indeed, it is slightly nonsensical. Please bless that the CIA never has to try to find me. They won't know which address to check first. Thank you, and goodnight.

Breaking Point

Hitting breaking point isn't always the funnest of days. Hitting breaking point is when you worry about your rapidly declining sanity. Hitting breaking point is where you want to punch someone in the face, and visualize what it would look like. Hitting breaking point includes lots of tears. Hitting breaking point requires a lot of introspection. Hitting breaking point increases your heart rate, and therefore convinces me that it will be the death of me at some point. Hitting breaking point makes you irrational and emotional. Hitting breaking point make me irritable. Hitting breaking point gives me a headache. Hitting breaking point requires listening to John Mayer, Coldplay, and Jason Mraz. Hitting breaking point requires lots of faith.

Today I hit breaking point. Thank you, and goodnight.

Theory

Right, so I have this theory. A theory which was confirmed today while I was at the bank. It goes a little something like this: I'm pretty darn sure that every Wells Fargo in America has an employee named Patrick. Coincidentally, each employee named Patrick likes to play the game called, "Hit on Emmilie." I don't understand this game. Yet it continues to boggle minds everywhere, as it happens every time I walk into a Wells Fargo. Today was no exception. Today I went into Wells Fargo, and guess who happened to work there? Yep. Patrick. And guess what game he played? Answer=yes. And I laugh. And mocked him slightly. It's fine. Next time you go into a Wells Fargo I will bet you 10 dollars that there is an employee named Patrick who may or may not try to hit on you. You have been warned. Thank you, and goodnight.

Happiness

This brings happiness to my heart.




Thank you, and goodnight.

Irony

I find it ironic in so many ways that my favorite John Mayer song is in fact, Dreaming with a Broken Heart. Oh, life. You are a trickster.

Thank you, and goodnight.

"Get married or else your life sucks."

Alright. I've finally snapped. Be prepared for a full-fledged rant. Thank you. You have been warned.

Today in my D&C class we talked about dating vs. hanging out. The Brethren have made it quite clear that dating is to be preferred over hanging out. Hanging out can be harmful for young single adults, as it deprives them of one-on-one time with the opposite sex. Thank you Elders Oaks and Ballard. Indeed, marriage is an essential part of our eternal progression, and is very important. Sister Beck said that due to the amount of hanging out, the Church needed to teach more on the doctrine of family, and it's importance. Clearly, this is an issue. I agree that if there is too much hanging out that can be potentially problematic in getting a date. Granted. Man up there, men. Ask the lady out.

Then we delved deeper into the conversation of dating at BYU-Idaho. My professor said this: The reason that the Church spends so much money on education is that they want to create a place where young adults can gather to meet people their age to marry. This apparently is the only reason for the creation of such institutions as BYU, BYU-Idaho, and BYU-Hawaii. Upon hearing this, I had to adamantly disagree. I would like to think that the $1649 I pay each semester for tuition, the $382 I spend on books, and the $1095 I spend on housing is not in fact for me to find a husband, but to gain an education. But our culture, which places so much emphasis on "gaining as much education as possible," ironically, is telling me that I will only have worth if I graduate from this University with a husband. Forget a diploma, as long as you have a husband you will be accepted.

The Oxford English Dictionary defines University as: "The whole body of teachers and scholars engaged, at a particular place, in giving and receiving instruction in the higher branches of learning; such persons associated together as a society or corporate body, with definite organization and acknowledged powers and privileges (esp. that of conferring degrees), and forming an institution for the promotion of education in the higher or more important branches of learning; also, the colleges, buildings, etc., belonging to such a body." Last time I checked, I attend Brigham Young UNIVERSITY Idaho.

How dare you tell me that I am here to get married! How dare you tell me that that is WHY I should be here! Excuse me for wanting an education! Excuse me for wanting to be an educated, contributing member of society! Excuse me for wanting to have a successful career and taking the necessary steps to get there! Pardon me.

Now I will be the first to admit that a University like this is the prime area for young people with similar standards to meet, date, fall in love, and get married. It happens every day. I think it is wonderful. But for someone to have the audacity to tell me that the only reason that a University such as this exists is for people to get married is wrong. And yet, every day, this way of thinking is positively reinforced. I have had teachers tell me that their class secretly is not Acting 121, but rather Dating 101. I have gotten extra credit for going on dates. I have sat in classrooms where the professor has told us that we had to get up and talk to someone in the class whom we have been physically attracted to. (Yes, he was joking, but seriously though.) I have been in classes where we were admonished to take a test early, but not if it got in the way of our Friday Night Date. Things have gotten out of hand.

Has anyone stopped to think about how this maniacal push to get married is becoming more detrimental to us than helpful? Currently, the divorce rate in the United States is 50%. I have heard many a rumor that in the LDS culture this rate is higher. Why is that? Because there are institutions masquerading as Universities that force feed unsuspecting young adults the lie that they must be married to be happy. In a sense, it is almost brainwashing. I was away from BYU-Idaho for almost 10 months. I lived outside of the "Mormon Bubble," as it's called, and experienced the "real world." In those 10 months, I discovered something that I had never known while living in Rexburg. I realized that I was a single daughter of God who had just as much worth as a married daughter of God. Just because I am unmarried does not mean that I fail as an individual. On the contrary, I do great things every day. Great things like strengthening my testimony, building God's kingdom, and realizing who I am. Meanwhile, in that tiny town of Rexburg young couples are committing matrimony far too quickly. They hardly know what they are doing, and know even less about the person they are committing to. Indeed, couples are marrying far too quickly, which in turn lends to the rising divorce rates. It's becoming a vicious cycle. Yet who can blame these poor couples when everywhere they turn, they are having the concepts of dating and marriage shoved down their throats?

In August of 2004, David A. Bednar stated that Brigham Young University-Idaho is a Disciple Preparation Center. In that talk, Elder Bednar talks about how at Universities such as this, we are taught to come unto Christ, gain a better testimony and understanding of him, and learn of him. We learn to become better disciples, and receive the tools and the spiritual preparation in order to help build God's kingdom. While this certainly does include the concept of marriage, that particular concept is not all encompassing. I am convinced that Elder Bednar also meant that gaining an education in a particular field or craft will be beneficial to our overall salvation and discipleship. Surely it does not strictly include marriage.

What about the girl, we'll call her Peg, who graduates with high grades in Elementary Education? She had a terrific time during her four years at BYU-Idaho. She made many friends, went on several dates, and gained many new experiences. She is now student teaching at an Elementary school in Magna, Utah where she will go on to accept an offer to teach there permanently. Now Peg has one flaw. She is unmarried. Do you mean to tell me that after completing her education, graduating with a bachelors, serving faithfully on the Activites Committe in her ward, and participating in a realm of campus activites, Peg failed in her time as a student, simply becuase she did not marry? That is what we are being taught.

Today as I sat during that D&C class, feeling my anger and frustration boil with increasing intensity, my eyes glanced down at the paper of the boy in front of me. This was written on his paper: "Get married or else your life sucks." That is what we are being taught here at BYU-Idaho. Get married or not only will our lives suck, but we will be seen as failures. Quite a daunting lesson.

Thank you, and goodnight.

Patience

So God is teaching patience. And it is slightly painful. My mission call is not coming this week either. So I will say what I have been saying for the past month, "Maybe next week." Pray for me. Thank you, and goodnight.

Business Up Front, Party in the Back

I have an FHE brother who is pretty cool. Pretty cool indeed. His name is Stanford. Stanford is from California and likes to surf. Stanford has also reached the "Awesome" status due to the fact that he has in fact successfully grown a mullet. Confession Session: Mullet's are awesome, but they stress me out. There is something so unnatural, and so 1980s about them that it makes me cringe. Now Stanford explained to me how it gets to be a pretty stressful feat sporting such a do. He apparently has to worry about outside forces such as static. "You can't have a staticy mullet. No one wants that!" To this, I promptly laughed out loud. Then Stanford, in all his awesomeness tried for the better part of three minutes to get me to run my fingers through his mullet. To this, I promptly refused. Adamantly. I think he got over it, but to get back at me he started rubbing his mullet all over my arm. To this, I promptly screamed. It's fine. Bless Stanford in all his awesomeness, and his mullet. Thank you, and goodnight.

The Silent Creeper

So I'm sitting in my favorite spot in the library doing my favorite thing. Blogging. Indeed, I should be researching campus crime, or writing a review on Extracts from the Diaries of Adam and Eve, or even working on my synthesis of William's Jim in South America. There are plenty of things that could be occupying my time at the moment, but instead, a random boy sitting adjacent to me is capturing my full attention. Now, one of the reasons I love this spot so much (the breezeway if you must know...) is because it is perfect for a little sport called people watching. This boy, we'll call him Andrew is sitting in one of the chairs, no bag, no tote, no books, no nothing. He is just sitting, checking out every single girl that walks past him. Now, normally when people sit in the breezeway the read, listen to their Ipod, stress about Accounting 201, study for Anatomy and Physiology, or even write an occasional blog or two. But Andrew has other things than school on his mind. They come in the shape of women. I find it absolutely fascinating that he can so unabashedly sit there and prey on women with impressive ease. I guess if you have the spare time, why not? Props to you, Andrew, props to you. So here's to all of you silent creepers out there who in your free time like to check out the opposite sex. Dude, be a little more ninja like. Thank you, and goodnight.

Thank Goodness

I love the atonement so much. Thank goodness for a loving and merciful Heavenly Father. I love him. Thank you, and goodnight.

Wonderful to Me

I stand all amazed at the love Jesus offers me,
Confused at the grace that so fully he proffers me.
I tremble to know that for me he was crucified,
That for me a sinner he suffered, he bled and died.

Oh, it is wonderful that he should care for me
Enough to die for me!
Oh, it is wonderful, wonderful to me!

I marvel that he should descend from his thrown divine
To rescue a soul so rebellious and proud as mine,
That he should extend his great love unto such as I,
Sufficient to own, to redeem, and to justify.

Oh, it is wonderful that he should care for me
Enough to die for me!
Oh, it is wonderful, wonderful to me!

I think of his hands pierced and bleeding to pay the debt!
Such mercy, such love and devotion can I forget?
No, no, I will praise and adore at the mercy seat,
Until at the glorified throne I kneel at his feet.

Oh, it is wonderful that he should care for me
Enough to die for me!
Oh, it is wonderful, wonderful to me!



Such are the feelings of my heart this day. Oh it is wonderful, wonderful to me. Thank you, and goodnight.

Mass Media

This is how I feel everyday in my Mass Media class. Secretly I really like it because it's so nonsensical. Like today I read a hilarious blog, and tried not to laugh out loud. Also, I played with Silly Putty, and made plans to bring coloring books. I took some pictures with my trusty mac, and I ate a giant pixy stick. Oh, never fear. I do in fact know what we talked about. Answer=Public Relations. However, what it is that public relations does I could not tell you. It's alright. Most of the time in Mass Media I online shop. One time I was having a particularly frustrating day, so I shopped for red shoes. Most of the other times I just shop for sweaters or jeans. Sometimes I take sassy pictures like this, and feel narcissistic. Yes, Eric- I admitted it. Some times I have dance parties to "Rock Around the Clock," or we bust it out to that one horrendous "it's just like a Mini Mall" commercial on Youtube. Look it up. Indeed, Mass Media is my relaxing class. It's super chill. And maybe my professor is super hilarious. So that's always a plus. I heart funny professors. And I mean that in the best way possible. Thank you, and goodnight.

Ask Any Mermaid

Right, so we are discussing jingles in my Mass Media class. Naturally, my brain goes immediately to the Chicken of the Sea commercial. Since that first fateful day that I heard the Chicken of the Sea commercial, anytime people talk about tuna it plays in my head for the next four days. Awesome sauce. So now, for the next four days of my life I will have this playing in my head:

"Ask any mermaid you happen to see- what's the best tuna?? Chicken of the Sea!"

Oh snap. Pray for me. Thank you, and goodnight.

I Hate Rexburg.

Okay, so this is a hate post. Ready, go.

I hate Rexburg. I hate the weather. I hate the dry air. I hate the infernal wind that blows in every direction every minute of the day. I hate the snow. I hate the mist that messes up your good hair day. I hate the culture of "Get married now. You fail if you don't get hitched." I hate it. I hate it all.

The other day, I decided that eight years from now, when I get married and have to choose where to live, I will live somewhere humid, warm, and beautiful. Never again will I choose to live in a place that is so dry that it makes my hair nasty and full of static. Never again will I live in a place so dry that it gives me Eczema all over my left arm. Never again will I live in a place that inspires me to never get ready, because the moment you step outside, the rain, mist, sleet, slush, or snow eternally messes up your hair. Never again will I live in a place where I have to lather my body up with lotion each day so that I don't die of dry skin. Never again do I care to live in a place that makes my legs look like the Grand Canyon. Never again do I want to live in this wretched little place called Rexburg. No, I won't say anything nice about it. Don't make me. Thank you, and goodnight.

Ode to Blaine

So yesterday, I went on a date with Eric. Eric is cute. I like him a lot. Eric likes me. We are dating. And it is fun. Yesterday, when we were walking to Pita Pit, we passed a man on a skate board. While attempting to be awesome, this man, we'll call him Blaine, hit a rock, went flying, and rolled to his almost death. Now, poor Blaine's pride was certainly wounded, as was his right shoulder. But instead of being kind, considerate and Christ-like people, Eric and I had to turn the corner immediately because we were laughing so hard. We are sinners. It's fine. This little experience made me realize a few things. First, I love life; it's just funny. Second, I will never ever skate board. Third, I'm a horrible person. Please bless Blaine, and my twisted soul. Thank you, and goodnight.

Awesome.

Okay, so today was a super awesome morning. I got up extra early because I had a lot to do before my first class at 12:45. I got up and got moving, which was a tender mercy in and of itself because guess who forgot to set their alarm? Um, yep. It's fine. So I decided to be ambitious with my hair today, and I did it curly. Well, I didn't have my glasses on when I was curling it, and because I'm awesome I burned the side of my neck... now it kind of looks like a have a hickey. Which is completely false, thank you very much, but alas. It's awesome. And of course I can't properly cover it up because I am in fact out of concealer. It's fine. Love today. Whatev, I say to myself laughing a little bit. That happened. I got all ready, and opened my front door. It was pouring. Awesome sauce. I was so mad. So go back and change into something slightly more grungy and put my hair up, exposing my false hickey burn to the world. Then I battle the elements on the way to the library and fight for a Mac. Luckily I win, but the battle continues as I fight for the printer to work. 5 trips to the Copy Spot later, I finally print off my rough draft for Visual Media. It's been an awesome morning. I heart rain. And curling iron burns. And faulty printers. Thank you, and goodnight. 

Pandemic

So the word "Pandemic" is in our everyday vocabulary. Indeed, I cannot seem to make it through the day without hearing about the Swine Flu at least thrice. Now, remember how I am kind of a germaphob anyways... it's fine. But lately all of this talk about H1N1 is stressing me out. Is it bad that now, whenever anyone tells me they are not feeling well, I instinctively lean as far away from them as possible without being too offensive? Is it bad that when someone coughs I want to apply hand sanitizer faster than a speeding bullet? Or if someone tells me that they have been throwing up, it takes every ounce in me not to run from the room? Is that bad? Oh, and I love it how when someone tells you they have been sick you automatically worry about yourself. "Oh snap. How am I feeling? Okay? Sick? Like I have Swine Flu?" It's a problem. 

BYU-Idaho keeps sending out emails each week compelling the students to stay home if they are sick. The professors have been told to be very lenient about people missing class due to Swine Flu... bless them. It seems as if once a day in at least one of my classes my professor announces that a number of our class emailed him, and are sick with the Swine. While this is an awesome precaution, I have my doubts about its effectiveness. This is why: 

The other day at work a man comes in to take his Biology 276 exam. He looks rough. Granted, most people do look rough when they come to the Testing Center of Death, but we give them a break. It's scary here. Yet, this man looked worse than just the regular "I'm-taking-a-test-rough..." He was pale, sweaty, and his eyes were a little bit glazed over with a faint look as if he was going towards some far distant light. No bueno. Then I observed this man a little closer. He was panting, and gasping for breath. Indeed, he had just climbed the stairs of death, and was slightly portly, but I should not have felt like I needed to call 911 to put this man on oxygen. He then approaches me at the printer and is leaning on the counter in an attempt to support his rapidly declining body. Instinctively I cringe away, and hold his test out for him putting as much space in between us as possible. Then he coughs a little, tells me he can't use anything on his test, and saunters into the testing room. I thought I should pray for him, but I washed my hands instead. It was pretty intense, and all I wanted to do was make him go home and go to bed. 

Indeed, I don't know how affective these new precautions will be. It's people like our Biology 276 friend who like to contaminate us all. So take heart, and use Purell. Thank you, and goodnight. 

Sin Scale

On a sin scale of one to ten, ten being oh let's say Exaltation, and one being oh I don't know, Damnation, how bad is it that history bores me to tears? Granted, it is very important, and yes it has shaped today, yet I cannot take it. I'm ready to pound my skull into my keyboard in utter protest, and thereby cause quite a stir in my Intro to Journalism class. I don't really care how Madison's and Jefferson's writings led to the civil war; I don't care about federal usurpations; I don't care about how Alexander Hansen experienced anger towards the Alien and Sedition Acts. I know that I should, but I cannot. As I look around the room, I find the same feelings of animosity towards the 1700s emanating from 87% of my classmates bodies. Some have just flat out fallen asleep and are untroubled. Bless them. Now don't get me wrong, I love Journalism, it's true, but in learning about its history I would so much rather talk about Bob Woodward, and Carl Bernstein, and "Deep Throat;" let's talk about Watergate, people. That's far more fascinating. Or maybe Nellie Bly, because I'm not gonna lie, I want to be her when I grow up. It's fine. So maybe I'm just a bad person; don't worry- God will punish me. Thank you, and goodnight. 

That Happened.

Right, so we are discussing the history of music as a massed produced form of media. Heidi and I got a little too into it. As we listened to Bill Haley and the Comets getting their groove on to "Rock Around the Clock," we too decided to get our groove on. In the middle of class. It was divine. Be jealous. Thank you, and goodnight. 

Apathy

Current mood: apathetic. 

Thank you, and goodnight. 

Death by Testing

So I'm at work right now, and I feel a little something like this. Annoyed with the world, while bemoaning my current state, feeling slightly despondent. Yes, I am at the Testing Center of death. Yes, I am fully aware that it is in fact Saturday morning, and I should indeed be tucked up in bed. Alas, I am not. Instead I walked through the frozen tundra of Rexburg where there this wretched thing called wind blows you about in every direction. What the St. Francis? I don't mind this shift when it comes right down to it. Working from 7:30 to 12:30 gives me my whole day, which is lovely. However, it takes me until about 10 to wake up...it's fine. I'm not mad. But that leaves the problem of me being dead to the world for the first two and a half hours of work. Sorry students of BYU-I, but seriously, what the crap are you doing out of bed that early when you don't have to be? Celebrate your youth. Stay home so I can too. Thank you, and goodnight.  

Not a Narcissist

So this one time... not this semester, I was highly bored. Naturally, I decided to make a collage of myself. No, I'm not a narcissist. I was just trying to pass time. Don't judge me. 

Thank you, and goodnight.