I have a tendency to wear my mind on my sleeve

I have so many things to figure out. My sister once shared this bit of wisdom. "Deciding on the right thing to do is a bit like deciding on the right thing to wear to a party. It is easy to decide on what is wrong to wear to a party, such as deep sea diving equipment or a pair of large pillows, but deciding what is right is much trickier." I feel as though I've spent the past year wearing a wildly inappropriate outfit to the party. Why didn't anyone tell me?

Your love is my heart disease

Life was so much easier when clothes didn't match and boys had cooties.

I used to think I understood guys. I grew up around guys and I've always been more inclined to be friends with guys. I don't mean this in a harsh or critical way, but guys thinking is just more simple. It's typically a thought followed by an action. There's usually a pretty clear motive behind their actions if you know the person or look at the big picture. Girls, on the other hand, are so complicated we confuse ourselves. It's thoughts back and forth and back and forth and sometimes you end up with an action that came from some logical reasoning and sometimes things just got all muddled up in the back and forth and you're left with our crazy antics.

I also used to think that I could be one of the guys. I could keep things simple if I wanted to. You say something that ticks me off and I just punch you, or you ask if i want to hang out with you and I respond "no, i'm ticked at you right now... maybe some other time." Sure, I am a girl and by that right, I suppose I'm crazy like all girls. In our defense, I say to the male audience: You try dealing with ridiculous amounts of hormones pumping through your body at fluctuating levels every day of the month. "It's like a box of chocolates, you never know what you're gonna get." EXACTLY. So cut us some slack. However, despite even the disclaimer, I've convinced myself that I have a remarkable ability to step outside my emotions and identify when it's the hormones talking and live my life in a rather rational and logical manner. And yet...

I don't understand boys. Sometimes I swear they're about as bright as lava lamps. I am of course speaking purely on a relationship level. Why do guys treat some girls with respect and not others? Why do they think it's alright to call one girl just to make out, but they would never consider calling this other girl? What causes them to make these judgements about girls? And more curiously, why are some girls good enough to be a friend, dare i say even a best friend, a confidante, your right hand man, but she's not good enough to date?

Now, i almost wish someone read my blog so i could get a response to my questions... Alas, I'm left with only my ponderings.

Just when i was low, feeling short of stable

My self-esteem has taken a rather large blow recently upon realizing that I have been working at Macaroni Grill for almost a year. As I attempt to look for other jobs that provide a little more in the department of satisfaction when going to work, I realize that a year at Macaroni Grill is hardly a shining beacon on my resume. Sadly, misery likes company, and I find solace in my friends who have had, or are having a similarly hard time figuring out the next phase of life. Sometimes it's just good to know you're not alone.

On a happier note, I get tired of explaining what I'm doing with my life, so I tell everyone that I aspire to be Tinkerbell and fly over the Castle at Disneyland. Anyhow, I just wanted the world to know that my mom is the best, and to help keep my dreams alive, she just mailed me a tinkerbell shirt that is S-I-C-K, that means sick.

Bare Ass meets Cheese Grater

There are few things worse than job hunting.... Sliding down a human cheese grater buck naked is the only thing coming to mind right now. Dear lord, please bless me in my job search because I might not last much longer and waiting tables for the rest of my life is a pretty dismal life.

In other news, I got new sheets and pillows and I'm pretty stoked to go to bed tonight. (Yes, I know... the highlights of my life are new sheets and So You Think You Can Dance... don't mock, one day you might be in my position, and then won't you feel like a jerk!)

BYU parking sucks

Despite the fact that my life is rather fabulous and I have no major complaints, I must still ask the great cosmos that is blogging society (even though I know no one reads this blog) a question. Why for the love of all that is .... (fill in the blank) does BYU only have 20 visitor parking spots? On the off chance that I need to visit my Alma Mater, I find that there is not a parking spot within a 5 mile radius. Oh wait, let me correct myself. There is not a parking spot for visitors. There is tons of faculty parking just sitting there unfilled taunting the numberous visitors who just want to make a 30 minute stop, but due to the over zealous parking officials who subsidize BYU education with parking ticket fees, one would have to be out of their mind to attempt to park in an undesignated spot and run their errand. So I settle for the 15 minute parking. And Dangit... I'm over my 15 minute limit. I better quit blogging and go save my car from unwanted boot.

All I know is that you are on my mind

I have this annoying habit. I find songs I like and then I proceed to listen to said song over and over. I really only suspect that this is an annoying habit, as I am alone about 87.6% of the time (due to my increasingly smaller work schedule, and roommates who vacation more at the apartment than actually reside here). Today's song is Kalai's "On My Mind." I've probably listened to it at least ten times already today. I tend to play the song over and over until I know the words so well, I'm not thinking about the lyrics when the song plays. Then I know I need to find a new song. Anyhow, I only share because I presume I only have about 8 hours left with this song, so I'm open to suggestions for tomorrow's obsession...

Can I have your pee please!

NASA needs pee. They are collecting urine samples to perfect the process of disposing urine in space. I wonder if they'd pay me to sit around drinking Sunny D all day and then give them urine samples. What a funny world we live in.

Sing Along

I often drive with my windows down, music blaring, singing along shamelessly. As I waited at the stop light today there was a biker waiting to cross the rode dancing (if you can call it that) and clearly enjoying his music. I kinda chuckled, as most people do, when they see someone oblivious to the world singing their hearts out to whatever is playing on their Ipod, but why? I often get self conscious when I pull up to a stoplight and I've been singing at about 90 decibles. Why? I got a good laugh at the poor bikers expense, and why not let others get a good laugh at my expense. It doesn't hurt anything, and if anything I'm cheering up America's drivers (which with the incredible stupidity that is known as Utah Drivers, should be considered a public service). So next time you pull up beside me rocking out to All American Rejects "Dirty Little Secret" (don't pretend like you've never rocked out to it), pull out your Ipod, find "Dirty Little Secret" (we both know it's on your Ipod), and join me. It boosts endorphins.

Rollover Minutes are Beautiful

So I was pondering the prospect of driving back to the east coast by myself, in the event that I move back, and I decided that I would need to spend a good deal of that drive on the phone just to keep myself sane (don't underestimate the extreme boredom that ensues across Kansas and much of Nevada). So I decided to see how long I could talk on the phone without procurring overage charges... and low and behold I could talk on the phone the entire trip without going over my allotted minutes! That's beautiful. That's not even taking into account that a good majority of the minutes used on such a trip would be free Mobile to Mobile and Nighttime minutes. So now I just need friends willing to talk to me for a minimum hour block while I drive. Anyone, Anyone?

Does this make me look fat?

So I was watching a movie this afternoon in which the Mother says to her son, "That shirt makes you look fat." He replies with "I am fat. In fact, if anything, I make the shirt look fat." After the appropriate burst of laughter, i got to thinking... That's a very valid, if not mildly ridiculous point. Why do we always blame the article of clothing for our inability to resist the haagen dazs dark chocolate chocolate ice cream bar, or our need to eat seconds and thirds of everything. Now, if i went along with the theme of the movie, I'd say to heck with it. You're FAT. Own it. But alas, the exercise science major that I am... I say yeah, enjoy that ice cream... then go run 3 miles at the gym and give that shirt the hot body it deserves to be seen on ;)