Wednesday, April 11, 2012

A month ago, I was at the Verizon store upgrading the relic that was once my cell phone for the latest and greatest iPhone. While I was waiting, I saw this mom with her 10 year old-ish daughter, waiting around while the guy who was helping her was in the back (my theory is that the cell phone guys all get together in the break room and play ping-pong while they are "checking something with their manager"). So, I'm sitting here staring awkwardly this at this mom and daughter when, out of the blue, they embraced and all of a sudden, BAM, I want kids.

What the what? Kids have always made me nervous. There's only 3 1/2 years between me and my little brother, so I was never around super young siblings. Yeah, I babysat, but that was different...and I wasn't very old when I stopped babysitting. Kids just made me feel awkward- mostly little kids. I've never had a problem with the older variety. A few years ago I was asked to be a primary teacher at church and I just about had a panic attack. 2 hours every Sunday with half a dozen 6 year olds was very intimidating. But, I jumped in there and actually fell in love with those little buggers. Babies, though, whoo, babies made me even more uncomfortable than children. Fortunately though, my sister had a baby and my fear of them was quickly squelched after I realized it was really hard to kill them.

Let's be clear, I was never intentionally trying to kill babies, I was just under the impression that they were super breakable. After my nephew barfed straight down my shirt twice in a row though, I figured he must be made of tougher stuff than I originally gave him credit for, and we've been buddies ever since. Except when it comes to poopy diapers. He's on his own with that one.

The point is, I always figured that I'd have kids one day and it would be great, but I've never necessarily been baby hungry. Now, though, I get a lump in my throat if I'm watching something and a baby starts crying. For example, last week I rented "Thor" from Redbox- there's this part where Anthony Hopkins picks up this alien baby that's crying. By the grace of Anthony Hopkins, the alien baby suddenly transforms into a human baby, looks deeply into Tony's eyes, and stops crying. I was really confused though, because while the baby's face became calm, the crying had only gotten louder. And that's when I realized it wasn't the baby crying, it was me. Who am I?!

It doesn't even have to be babies, necessarily. I live across the street from an elementary school and when I go running in the mornings, I'm usually surrounded by hoards of little kids on their way to school. Despite the fact that I've got my music cranked up in my ears and I'm self-concious that my shorts are riding a little high, I find myself getting distracted by how cute these little kids are, wondering if they have happy lives, wanting to hug the one that's walking alone with his head down. Then suddenly, I've got a lump in my throat and I want to take them to my house and bake them all cookies filled with love and sprinkles.

Just kidding. I don't have any sprinkles.

Ugh, it's just the weirdest feeling though. I'm not sure what to do with myself. I thought a career would fulfill me, but I'm finding that the only thing that's truly fulfilling is your family and the people you fill your life with. Since my family lives in Arizona and I'm living on my own and usually hanging out solo, I've come to realize that most experiences just aren't as awesome as they could be if you had someone to share them with. I think it's taken "having it all" to realize that maybe "it" just isn't enough.

Don't get me wrong though- I'm happy with my life. I mean, really, when else am I going to be able to walk around my house naked and not worry about who sees me?


Tuesday, April 3, 2012

This post contains movie spoilers so please, do not continue if you have not yet seen the movie "One Day" and would prefer not to have the ending ruined (but really, its not like you couldn't see it coming from a mile away).

So, I watched "One Day" last night (finally), and while I initially got choked up at the end and may, or may not, have yelled at my television in futility, I have come to the conclusion that this film is absolute crap. Let's recap, shall we? This movie is about a guy and a girl who meet in college in the 80's; they almost hook up but end up just sleeping together (literally) and from that, a friendship blossoms. As the film progresses, it catches up with the two characters every year on the same day that they originally met. The girl mostly suffers with a lack of career and a boyfriend who belongs in the side-show of a circus. The guy becomes rich, famous, and promiscuous while the girl works in a dive restaurant and is pathetically insecure. Eventually, the guy gets engaged (because his girlfriend got pregnant) and the girl continues on living the single life after finally dumping her lame boyfriend.

In the middle of all of this, it is revealed that the girl has been in love with the boy since college- before they even almost hooked up- and the guy reveals that he has felt the same way. Surprise, surprise, the guy tells the girl that he doesn't want to pursue a relationship with the her because he knows that if they start something, it will mean the end of his partying-and-sleeping-around ways and he's "not ready" for that.

Yadda, yadda, yadda, they finally get married (after like, 15 years) and over the next couple of years, you find out that they are happily married but have been unsuccessful at getting pregnant. And then she gets hit by a bus while riding her bike.

Are you freakin kidding me?!

Here's my issue with this movie: the ending focuses on the guy's pain and suffering over losing his wife, but what about all of the pain and suffering she had to endure for years before the guy finally gets over himself and grows up, not to mention the agony of not being able to get pregnant? He's a complete jackass- to her, to his dying mother, to everyone who knows him- and yet he gets to spend most of the movie rich, drunk, and with some hot piece. Yeah, some crap stuff happens to him, but he deserves it. Girlfriend, on the other hand, is working hard for the money and continues to put up with and even console the guy, and yet she gets stuck with a horrible job, being perpetually single except for a brief stint with a creeper boyfriend, frizzy hair, infertility, some unfortunate sartorial choices, and death by bus?! I think the writer hates women.

Why is this movie burning me up so bad? I think it's because I know one too many dudes like the one in the movie. The movie glorified the guy's pain and misery, but he brought it on himself. The girl though, she was actually trying to progress with her life--

Oh my gosh, this movie is my life. I am going to end up childless and die in a freak bus/bike accident.

**For Sale**
Bicycle, one owner, collapsable baskets over the back tire. Will throw in tire pump, water bottle, and bike lock for free.

Tuesday, March 27, 2012

I like being single. I'm not saying that I don't want to be in a relationship, quite the opposite actually, but I am pretty content with my life. It is what it is, and I should make the very best of it. I thought, like most young Mormon girls, that I'd be married and probably have a kid on the way by the time I was 21. I specifically remember thinking, when I turned 16, that I would be married within the next 5 years. Whoa boy, am I relieved that I turned out to be wrong about that!

One of my biggest peeves is when people complain about their relationship status. Once and while, in the company of close friends, over a pint of ice cream, is one thing, but on a daily or semi-daily basis is just ridiculous. In front of a whole group of people at church just makes me want to punch you, especially if you were born in the 90's. I've met so many people who I honestly don't think believed that life would begin for them until they were married, that as a person, their relationship status defined them. I really hate that mentality. How can you expect to be a partner in a relationship when you don't even have confidence in who you are as an individual? Only you can "complete" yourself- nobody else can do that for you. Besides that, it's just downright annoying having to listen or read post after post on Facebook about how you hate being single. Really, is there anyone that loves being alone? No, but I can guarantee you that complaining about it isn't going to help get you a date. And while you are at it, do something to improve yourself and most importantly, have some fun!

And now for some light entertainment.

When I was 14, I decided it would be awesome to stick 2 of those teeny tiny Cert mints up my nose. I was goofing off with a bunch of equally weird friends and I thought it would be funny, and it was...until my nose started burning with the fire of a thousand hells. The horrible thing about having a burning sensation within your nostrils is that, unlike when your mouth is burning, you can't exactly douse the inside of your nose in liquid. I guess you could inhale milk or water, but I'm pretty sure that would hurt equally as much as the burning mintiness. Another thing about stuffing mints up your nose is that when the burning starts, a panic sets in and you may suddenly inhale, causing those tiny mints to become lodged up your nasal canal in that awkward spot where your finger just can't reach. By the time you do manage to find a way to dislodge the mint, your eyes are watering in both gratitude that you finally got the mint out of your face, and pain because the burning is so intense you are sure your brain is about to melt. After this experience, you vow to never, ever, try sticking anything else up your nose again and to share this piece of wisdom with all of those that are around you.

You're welcome.


Wednesday, March 21, 2012

I was inches from being in a major car accident tonight. I was in a double turn lane and when the arrow turned green, I started to go. I was distracted when the car next to me started to make a u-turn when suddenly this guy comes barreling through the intersection doing at least 45. Hi either didn't realize his light was red or had been trying to speed through before it turned- either way, I could see the whites of his beady little eyes as he sped right past me, he was that close. If I had gone right when my light had turned, he would have creamed me on the driver's side for sure, but for some reason, I delayed going. It happened so fast that I didn't even have time for that adrenaline rush that usually comes- I was just in shock. I was on my way to the temple tonight when this happened and when I finally got there and sat down, I realized that I could just as easily have been lying on a table in the ER at that very moment.

Yeah, a little dramatic, I know (I have a very, very active imagination), but it got me thinking about trials and burdens. We're all given challenges in this life and we try to deal with them the best we can, but what about the trials we aren't given? Have you ever stopped to wonder, when you are in the midst of a crisis or difficulty, what additional pains you have either been, or are currently are being, spared from? Think of how many blessings you receive on a daily basis without even realizing. I'm sure one day, when we can see the bigger picture, we will all be amazed at just how blessed we were, even during the hardest of times when it seemed like no one was there.

I believe that we are only given as many difficulties and challenges as we can handle. Yeah, sometimes they push us right to the edge but it's like when you are training with weights- you aren't going to get results until you push your muscles to the point of fatigue and your muscles start shaking. If you don't push yourself to that point, then you haven't reached your maximum and broken enough tissue to build more. It seems kind of backwards, having to break your muscle to generate new growth, but it works. I think the same thing can be said about life. If you aren't pushed to your max, then you never know how strong you are. I also think that it's through these challenges that you come to know yourself better- who you are, what you believe in, and how you want to progress.

I'm a firm believer in gratitude. I've learned through experience that attitude is everything and life is just so much easier when you look for the good in the world. Without gratitude, it's hard to find hope that things will improve, and without hope, what's the whole point of this life? Sometimes it's an effort, but I try really hard to acknowledge all of the good things in my life- when you start thinking about all of the good that surrounds you, it's kind of hard to stop.

So, the gist of this whole serious conversation is this: If you stub your toe on the way to the bathroom in the middle of the night, stop cursing and be grateful that you even have a toe to stub. There are people in this world who do not have toes and would gladly endure the pain of the occasional stubbing just to have them.


Tuesday, March 20, 2012

When I was 7, my family moved from Arizona to Utah. I remember our house smelled like old people for the first little while, probably in part because the house was built in the 70's and also, the previous owners were of a more elderly generation. Actually, they were probably only in their 50's, but to a 7 year old, 50 might as well be 90. 

So, I was in the second grade at the time. It was October, I believe, so school had already started and I was jumping in at kind of an awkward time. I remember being mortified in class when the teacher had us using parentheses. I had no idea what they were- we hadn't covered them yet at my previous school. I was really confused by her explanation and ended up using them like ((this)) instead of "this." She then pointed out how wrong I was in front of the whole class and laughed. It was shenanigans like this over the course of the next month or so that ended up with my mom going to the school and demanding that I be moved to a different class. The day before I was moved, my soon-to-be-ex teacher pulled me into a closet where she proceeded to cry and hug me. And that was the first time I experienced to joy of Karma.

One great thing about changing classes was that I was no longer in the same class with my name twin. Yep, there were two Megan Wrights in the second grade- why they decided to put us in the same class, I will never understand. As the newer of the two MW's, I was asked to change my name on my school records so that the admins could differentiate between the two of us. The name I was thereafter known us upon the records of the Jordan School District was Meggie. Yep, Meggie. I hated it. It followed me around like a curse, even into Middle and High school. 

I was 14 when we moved to Oklahoma and I was so excited when I got to Middle school and was able to just be Megan. I had one year of having my name all to myself before I entered High school and found out that there was another Megan Wright in the grade ahead of me. I was mistakenly called to the principle's office on multiple occasions, mostly for disciplinary action, although onetime a whole bouquet of roses arrived for her and I contemplated taking them all for myself. Getting called out of class didn't bother me- any excuse to get out of class, right?- but the one thing that really burned me happened during my Sophomore year. 

I worked really hard that year to join as many clubs and organizations as possible- I was in choir, orchestra, drama, service club, spanish club, and even chess club (I still have no idea how to play- I joined only so that I could spend a few precious minutes each week in close proximity to one of my high school crushes). I know there were more because when all was said and done, I ended up on like, 15 different pages of my yearbook. Unfortunately, the OTHER MW ended up with the credit for most of those pages and I ended up with only a few pages correctly attributed to me. It's taken 10 years, but I think I'm finally over it. Or not. 

The moral of this story is this: please, don't call me Meggie. I like Megan or, if you really want to endear yourself to me, Meg is even better. 


Wednesday, March 14, 2012

You wouldn't know it to look at me, but for a white girl, I'm actually a pretty good dancer. I think I could hold my own in a Ricky Martin vs. Me, shake-n-shimmy contest. This is mostly due to the years I spent locked away in my room choreographing dance moves to the top 40's. I'm pretty sure winning "Best Choreographer" in my 6th grade lip-synching competition had something to do with this.

Needless to say, I began taking Zumba classes with just a little bit of an ego and ended up being schooled by all the Latinas in my class. I swear, those girls must have been born shaking their hips. The only thing us Danish girls can do is bake, and yes, while food is the way to a man's heart (or so I'm told), I think it's safe to say that being able to swing your hips effortlessly gets the job done a little faster.

Maybe I just need to watch some more Shakira music videos.

This spring weather is driving me nuts. One day, it's absolutely perfect outside and I'm daydreaming of all the places I want to visit in Utah this spring/summer- Spiral Jetty, the Salt Flats, Moab, Vernal (aka Dinosaur Heaven), Bryce Canyon. Then the next day, winter shows up again and threatens to dump snow everywhere.

 There are not enough words to express how much I love Spring and Summer in Utah. Really, love is an understatement. Utah is so blissfully perfect in the summertime-hot in the day, perfect for adventuring (hiking! rafting! road tripping with the windows down!), and cool at night, perfect for roasting stuff over a campfire. I say "stuff" because there are so many things that taste amazing when cooked over an open flame. Hot dogs and marshmallows aside, I have to say that Swedish Fish and Starburst are actually pretty delightful. Weird, I know, but oh so good. And if you are unfortunate to invite me to your campfire, I will probably bring my guitar and play really poorly for you. You're welcome.

Besides all of the fun adventuring, getting to wear skirts and dresses without the added layer of tights is just so liberating. Bare legs, unite!

In summation, I'm Danish and I need to just embrace the fact that my people do not dance, probably due to the unfortunate wooden shoes we wore for years and years. You try getting your krunk on in those babies and see what happens.


Monday, March 12, 2012

L'chaim! I love life.

At least that's how I felt as I embarked on a new adventure today. I drove 100 miles to Delta, Utah just to see what it was all about, and then came back home. I've had an insatiable curiosity to see what lies beyond Utah Lake and today I decided to satisfy that need. I came home from church and the thought of hanging out in my basement apartment on such a glorious day put me in a bad mood, so I packed a lunch, grabbed my camera, and Google mapped my way out of Utah County for the afternoon.

I am equal parts spontaneous and adventurous, but I'm also a little bit of a chicken and I've put off going on adventures because I've been stuck on the notion that I need someone to go with. This week I finally decided that if I keep waiting for a sidekick, I'm going to miss out living my life! So, with this realization, I set off to the great unknown, to see what lies beyond the realm of my familiarity.

I love going on long drives. My family used to take long drives on Sunday afternoons. We would just drive somewhere, up into the mountains or into the country, and spend time together. Those are some of my favorite memories. Today, it was just me and my trusty stead, Wellington. Long drives almost always turn into something of a spiritual experience for me. Weird, I know, but I'm left alone with my own thoughts to keep me occupied and I can't help but marvel at the beauty of the world and feel more keenly my place in it.

My faith is so important to me, but I wouldn't know that if I hadn't gone through a period of time where it wasn't. I was always a good girl- I went to church, got up at 5:15 every morning to go to seminary, I dressed modestly and never swore. Then I went to BYU and rebelled. I lost touch with what I'd been taught growing up and, eventually, I lost my faith. I wasn't a bad girl, per se, but I wasn't squeaky clean good either.

I wandered for a few years, frustrated and lacking a sense of purpose, before I was finally given this fantastic book about the Atonement called, "Believing Christ." The gist of the book is that it's not enough to just believe IN Christ, but to Believe Christ. It's a fantastic little book, and it lays out the Atonement in a way that is so easy to understand and yet it leaves you feeling so fulfilled. When I read this book, I was just blown away by how beautiful the Atonement is. It was when I finally felt like I had at least a little bit of understanding of that act that I began to regain my faith.

It didn't happen overnight. It was an effort, but one that seemed so much easier than before. Since then, I've come to feel more complete as a person. I better understand my place in this world and I know that whatever comes my way is meant to and I can handle it. I've discovered that there is beauty in everything, even in the darkest of times; we just have to look a little harder, but it's there.

I'm still a little bit of a rebel, and I always will be, but it's my faith that really defines me. I love the Book of Mormon- It contains some of the most beautiful scriptures about the Savior and is such an amazing companion to the Bible.

I get carried away, please forgive me. This is what happens when I go on long drives. Me + nature= reflections of a spiritual nature.

In conclusion, I'm spontaneous! I'm independent! I'm a rebel! Also, I not only sing in the car, but I also dance. Yep, I'm that girl.



Thursday, March 8, 2012

Dear Spring, 
Please come quickly and fill my heart with sunshine and rainbows. 
Love, Me

So, I went on a date with my "cousin" last week. Originally, if you recall, I wasn't sure whether to spring the news on him that we were probably related right at our introduction, or casually over dinner. In the end, it came out during an awkward pause in between our initial meeting and sitting down to eat. I couldn't help it- as much as I enjoy awkward pauses, I had to fill the void and, "We're related," was all I could come up with. 

 Now, I'm actually a pretty good conversationalist, but when it comes to small talk and/or flirting, I'm really terrible. My mother and my sister have tried to educate me in the art of flirtation, but I fail them. I would rather be straight forward and invest in a substantial conversation- small talk just makes me uncomfortable. It probably goes back to my childhood when I was obsessed with Space Camp and rollerblading. While my sister was playing Barbies and learning how to be coy with Ken, I was outside climbing trees or racing my bike down the big hill by our house. I loved being outside. I was not a girly-girl; I was a tom-boy and proud of it. Oddly, I think it was my job working as a gardener that finally made me realize how much I actually do like being a girly-girl. 

I spent a couple years in college working on the grounds crew. It was by far my favorite job- I got to be outside all day, had a sweet farmers tan, and it was socially acceptable to get filthy dirty. In a word, it was awesome. However, after a long day stuck in my dirt-and-sweat caked jeans and t-shirt, all I'd want to do when I got home was jump out of the grunge and just feel pretty. So I'd take a shower, do my hair and makeup, and put something cute on, despite the fact that it was very late in the afternoon and I probably wasn't even going anywhere. I just wanted to feel like a girl.

Fast forward a couple of years, and most of my closet is made up of skirts and dresses. I love them. Pants are so overrated. And so are unpolished nails. 

In a nutshell, "we're related," is probably not the best conversation starter, if you need a laugh just ask me to try flirting with someone, and in an attempt to make up for my lost years as a tom-boy, I own something like, a dozen dresses and 18 skirts. Word. 


Friday, March 2, 2012

I finally bought a tv tonight. It was only $25 dollars and it's actually pretty decent. I really wish someone had been secretly filming me as I tried to load it into the back of my little Versa. I'm not that tall, and as I was trying to get it out of the shopping cart, it kept getting stuck and I ended up dragging the cart around as I tried to get the tv out. Then, when I got home, I could barely carry it 20 feet before I had to set it down. By that point, I'd reached the 4 little stairs that descend to my front door and, of course, they were covered in ice. I had to ease my tv down the steps one at a time until I was finally able to pick it up and turn around to take should have been 2 regular steps but turned into about 20 teeny-tiny ones before having to set it down again. Thankfully, of those 20 teeny-tiny steps, five of them put me exactly one regular step into my apartment and I was able to shut the front door so that no one else would be able to witness the embarrassment that was me trying to get my tv in the house. Once the door was shut, I had the arduous task of picking the tv off of the floor and transferring it about 10 feet south and 2 feet east to my tv stand. Seriously, when it comes to old, mammoth-sized tv's, mine really is not that bad, but what it lacks in bulkiness is makes up in density. I swear, one day I'm going to drop that sucker and find the insides are chocked full of pirate gold. 

But at least now I have a tv and, although slowly, my little apartment is starting to feel more like a home. 

I like it.

Tuesday, February 28, 2012

Over the weekend, I went to dinner at Carabba's with one of my friends from work. While she went to go wash her hands, I looked around at the crowded room and suddenly, I had an epiphany. You know your boyfriend is getting serious about your relationship when he stops taking you to the Olive Garden on Friday nights, and starts taking you to Carabbas. I mean, whoa, he's dropping some real cash, and at a classy place, too. Nothing says "luv u babe" like having a waiter pour olive oil on a plate with herbs for you to dip your bread in. 

(On a side note, can I just say that a) yes, I did manage to find ONE paleo-acceptable dish at a restaurant the that primarily sells pasta, and b) going to Carabba's was not pre-meditated. It was simply the closest thing to where we were parked in the mall parking lot.)

So, I have a blind date on Thursday. The only problem is that he's a blonde. And we might also be cousins (and by "might," I mean, "we are"). I know what ya'll are thinking...why am I going out with a blonde guy? Besides Nick Carter (of Backstreet Boy fame), I have never been into blonde dudes. But I'm willing to give it a shot, because really, that's what family's for. 

Ok, but for realz. He's from Richfield, Utah and a pretty big chunk of my family originated in Richfield, Utah (via Denmark...with a little help from some Mormon missionaries and a long trek across the United States with nothing but a handcart...because that's how they rolled back in pioneer days). There's obviously more to it than just originating from the same small town, but I'm a Mormon and we are, if anything, really knowledgeable when it comes to family history. I just can't decide if I should spring this information on him like, right from the start, or casually over dinner...

On the subject of blind dates, I've never been a fan. I say that, but I've only ever been on one and boy, was it awkward. He picks me up, like super late, and we go get ice cream. In January. In Utah. I mean, not only is it the middle of winter, but there's about a foot of snow on the ground. Hot chocolate would have been much more seasonally appropriate. Anyway, we get ice cream and then he drives me back to my apartment, where he pulls into a parking spot that's pretty far from my door and we just sit there. Awkwardly. Making small talk. Until he finally says, "Well, I could drive you closer to your apartment if you want." 

Seriously?! You park on the other end of my (poorly lit) parking lot and you're not even going to walk me to my door to make sure I don't get mugged or fall through a crack in the glacier that was once a black top?! By this time, I'm done. "No, I can walk," I say as I get out of the car and shut the door a little (a lot) harder than needed. Now, I can't say that I've done a lot dating (or, let's be honest, any at all), but I've seen a lot of movies where people date and even if it's been absolute crap, the guy still walks the girl to the door. Period. End of story. 

In conclusion, Carabbas = pricier Olive Garden but with the same klassy crowd, do your genealogy before consenting to your next date, and real man walk their dates to their door. They also have beards and chest hair. Any maybe a plaid shirt...or four. 


Saturday, February 25, 2012

Dear Utah County,
Your shopping sucks.

I went shopping today and all I came home with was groceries and some new makeup.

I love makeup. I don't wear much of it, but nothing would bring as much joy to my little heart as giving the world a makeover. I've done a little bit with showing girls how to wear makeup, and giving them tips on how to dress and style themselves, and I absolutely love it. Their happiness and confidence gives me a high. I love it when people feel good about themselves, especially girls and women. There are some outrageous standards when it comes to how we should look, think, and act. It breaks my heart to see girls who aren't confident in themselves yet, who are struggling to be something they aren't. I want to give these girls a hug and tell them to just love themselves, to take a good hard look in the mirror and realize that there is so much potential within them, just waiting to be embraced!

 I really feel like the way you present yourself physically is a reflection of how much you value yourself. I wish I could take every frumpy dumpy girl I see, throw her in an outfit that actually gives her a shape, give her a haircut with some life in it, throw on some mascara and lip gloss, and then send her out the door and watch her conquer BYU campus. Likewise, I want to take every insecure girl who hides behind layers of makeup, a breast lift, clothing that leaves nothing to the imagination, and wash her face, put her in an outfit that's actually comfortable, and let her see how stunning and confident she can be when she just relaxes.

One day, when I'm successful and have made a name for myself, I want to become a motivational speaker. I've wanted to do this for years, I just don't know how to get there. I have this overwhelming sense of love for women- I want to help them be able to help themselves, to see how awesome they are, to be able to value themselves more. I want to help them embrace being feminine and be happy with who they are, to feel complete as an individual. I think it's only when you truly feel that "completeness", that contentment with who you are as a person, that you can be successful in a relationship and sharing your life with someone else.

Stepping off my soap box...

I bought ghee today. I'm excited to try it. The last couple days have been rough and nothing makes me feel better than going to Sunflower Market and buying organic food, if only because it makes me think of Amy Poehler said in "Baby Mama"--

"That crap is for rich people who hate themselves!"

--I'm not rich, nor do I hate myself, but I admit that I do feel a little bit like an elitist snob, buying my wild-caught salmon and free-range eggs. Not only that, but there was not one preserved, processed, or boxed item in my cart. It was all fresh. My groceries say, "Ef the Man." (*see rant about being feminine above...).

I'm going to go make myself an organic omelet now...and maybe watch the latest episode of 30 Rock.


Thursday, February 23, 2012

My favorite earthy possession may, in fact, be my heated mattress cover. I can pre-heat my bed for warm, toasty coziness with the touch of a button. I love it. I can't wait to pour my exhausted self into bed and just melt (that advanced poetry class in college has done wonders for my imagery, no).

In other news, I tried this awesome recipe for chili-garlic roasted broccoli today and it was good. Like, biblically good. Good on you, Rachel Ray. You give hope to millions of other idiots across the nation.

I think I'm going to get this fantastic rug from Surya. My living room needs some "weight" to it- I've got too much beige going on...beige walls, beige rug, beige couch...I'm dying for some color and I think this rug will be a nice anchor for my room. I'm still working on getting a tv, a table lamp, another side table, and an ottoman, but I know if I keep my eye out on KSL and at DI that it will all come together into one, vintage-quirky look. I can't wait to paint my furniture-I really want to give my bookshelf an ombre look using either yellows or corals, and paint my side tables white, and my tv stand turquoise and do a silver-dipped effect on the legs. I'll probably paint my mirror silver too, to reference the legs on the tv stand. I know it sounds koo-koo crazy, but I can totally picture it and it warms my cold, little heart.

I now leave you with a song that I may or may not listen to on repeat several times a day.


Tuesday, February 21, 2012

Just finished day 7 of the Whole30 challenge- woo! Shall we do a quick recap of the Whole30? Here it is: no sugars, grains, legumes, or dairy for, duh, 30 days. And I'm throwing in no soda, but I think that kind of goes without saying. I mean, c'mon, one of the main focuses of the Whole30 is consuming, with a few exceptions, nothing processed. No additives, no dyes, no unpronounceable chemicals. A lot of people, when I tell them what I'm doing, tell me that they could never do it because it sounds so hard. I used to think that too, that it was too restrictive, too extreme. Then I started researching how different foods affect the body and honestly, it's been easy peasy. You know what else has been easy peasy? Losing 8lbs in 7 days, all the while feeling more focused and energetic than I have in months. No mid-afternoon crashes, no headaches, no starving, just pure awesomeness. Also, my skin is looking fan-freakin-tastic. Most importantly though, I think, is regaining the confidence I lost there for about 5 minutes.

In last couple of months, I've left my home, my family, my friends, and moved to a new city, in an apartment all alone, and have taken on a whole new life. I've started a career that is totally different from anything I've ever done, and I've been given so much more responsibility than I've ever carried before. Everything in my life is new and different, and I approached this change with total, 100% confidence. When I set my mind to it, I truly feel that I can do anything; that's how I roll. I've never been afraid to put myself out there and make things happen. It only takes regretting something once to convince you to never let yourself regret anything again, and I've tried to live my life without regrets, to avoid the "What if?"

I recently put myself out there- like, totally vulnerable out there- and ended up blowing it. Big time. I was super bummed for a few days, and it happened to coincide with an overwhelming work load that had me questioning my performance and what I was even doing here. As soon as I questioned, though, I was filled with an overwhelming sense of "No, you are supposed to be here. Moreover, you are totally capable of what's in front of you." Even though last week really sucked, I'm glad I put myself out the end, it turned a pretty humbling week and I think I needed that. There is good to be found in everything, even the painful- I live by that belief and look for the good in every experience. I mean, experiencing a crisis of confidence keeps you from turning into an ego-maniac, and really, how is that a bad thing?

So, the moral of the story is this: eat more vegetables and less processed foods, don't be afraid to put yourself out there, and look for the good in everything, because it's there. I promise.

Also, let men do the chasing. Just sayin.

Sunday, February 19, 2012

I used to blog a lot in high school and during my freshman year at college. Then I offended a bunch of people and since then, the only blogging I've done has been in the form of craft blog...there was also that one time I went backpacking in Europe and kept a travel log, but it only lasted two weeks. To be frank, I've all but given up on the craft blog. I'm just not "there" anymore. I had a Suzy-homemaker phase and thought my projects were awesome, but now I feel they were just a little, uploading pictures is kind of a pain. So here I am , back to writing about my experiences, my thoughts, my feelings, blah blah blah.

So, why the sudden interest in blogging again, you ask (or not, because really, who reads personal blogs)? The answer comes in two parts. First, I live alone and while I'm insanely busy during the day, I come home at night and have no one to do a run-down of my day with (the plethora of owl paraphernalia adorning my bookshelf just stare back at me with their ceramic expressions...jerks). Second, I've made/ am making some pretty major changes in my life that I'm excited about. Within the last seven weeks, I've started a career, moved into my own apartment, got a brand-spankin new car (named Wellington, btw), and a Costco membership. Yep, I've arrived. 

Yesterday was my first real Saturday off of work- I had the whole day just to myself and it was wonderful. I'm on a mission to find pillows for my bed and sofa, and a rug for my living room. No luck yesterday on those endeavors, but I finally went to Ikea and bought a floor lamp I've wanted since, like, forever...only to get it home and find it was much to large for my living room....and then damage it in such a way that it is no longer returnable. Awesome. But I found a way to make it work and I'm currently basking under its glow. 

Besides shopping for home goods yesterday, I also made it over to Winco (aka, the grocery store of wonders). I've been researching and studying the Paleo diet for the last year (thanks to my amazing friend Lisa) and this week I finally decided to just DO IT, totally and completely! I'm reading a fantastic book that really delves into the science of how our bodies break down the food we consume and I have committed, for the next 30 days, to abstain from grain, sugar, beans and legumes, potatoes of the white variety, and dairy products. I'm also giving up my beloved Diet Dr. Pepper (so painful). I'm focusing on eating whole foods- loads and loads of vegetables (seriously, my fridge is absolutely packed with green goodness), meat, fruit, and nuts. 

Now, last week was really just a fantastic week. Really awesome. Truly. Are you still not convinced? Good, because I'm lying. It was total crap. You couldn't find my sense of confidence even if you were using a microscope, but you could hear my heart beat from a mile away because I was under so much stress at work. Usually during a week like last week, I would have drowned out my stress in, oh I don't know, a pint of Ben and Jerry's Cherry Garcia Frozen Yogurt (not the whole thing though, I swear!), but in a masochistic streak, I decided to forgo all forms of comfort food (and my caffeinated beverages) and do something really eat more vegetables. Those first few days were rough, but on the third day I woke up a little earlier than usual and totally energized for the day. What the what? I don't even remember the last time  that I woke up and was ready to jump out of bed to get going. Usually I just lie in bed awake, pinned between my heated mattress cover and fourteen layers of fluffy, warm blankets, bemoaning the cold and stalling my trek to the shower, because really, who wants to be naked in the winter, especially when wet and in a perpetually chilly bathroom? Pas moi (that's the French way of saying "not me"-consider yourself educated. You're welcome). Moral of the story is that so far I'm feeling "Grrrrreat" (tm, Tony the Tiger). And looking more awesome (my new pair of nude, platform wedges may or may not be contributing to the awesomeness).

So that's where I'm at today. I'm going to go whip up something amazing in the kitchen and prepare to watch the final episode of Downton Abbey. On a side note, I swear, if Mr. Bates and Anna don't finally get a happy ending, I'm boycotting PBS, BBC, and maybe just love and happiness in general.