Update from Rome

Alright everyone- my last post was on day two of this trip, so obviously a lot has happened since then.

First off: our phones were stolen on our last day in Paris. Oh, and this was right as we were approaching a 15 hour bus ride that was supposed to be a train ride, but I guess we didn't read the fine print.

So that sucked.

I was planning to write during this 15 hour ride, but I was so upset about the phones and everything else I decided to keep quiet. I mean that was definitely a low, but the trip has still been amazing. And I bought an iPad, so at least I can still Instagram.

Perspective.

But if I thought getting our phones stolen and spending 15 hours on a hot, crowded, over-night bus ride was a low, it was NOTHING compared to our first hour in Rome.

We took a ferry from Barcelona to Rome (that's 20 hours, plus an hour train ride). Again, I meant to write during the trip, but they didn't provide any wifi (what, what, what are you doing Grimaldi Lines??) so I couldn't.

The B&B where we're staying in Rome is chill about check-in times, you just have to let them know when you plan on arriving. We told them between 8 and 9 p.m.

But our ferry, which was supposed to take off at 10:30 p.m., took off at 12:30 a.m. During these two hours I kept waiting for some kind of apologetic announcement and update as to when we could expect to take off and help to contact anyone expecting us in Italy.

I mean, there were announcements. A lady came on the intercom about every five minutes to remind us that the ship's cafeteria was open and that we should go spend more of our money on their D-grade food.

So helpful!

So, with no wifi or any other way to communicate with our B&B, we landed in Italy two hours later than planned. The trains were still running, but not the metro. We grabbed a taxi which dropped us off around midnight in front of the closed and deserted building where, somewhere inside, two beds waited for us. This was the most beautiful image in the world at the moment, after spending the previous night on the couches of the ship's noisy 24-hour bar.

We ringed the doorbell and waited.

Nothing.

We rang two more times and waited.

After a few minutes, our heads hung in defeat.

We both knew what was waiting for us. We hadn't seen any 24-hour places on the ride over, but we had seen some people hanging out on the steps around the various plazas of Rome.

Grabbing our bags, we headed out into the night, hoping to find somewhere to sit until morning. There was no way we were going to sleep.

We had barely taken three steps when a white, windowless van pulled up to us. A man rolled down the window.

Both of us were thinking, "Oh HELL no," but before we could yell at him to keep moving, the driver said, "Mister Paul?"

I could have cried. "You said between 8 and 9," said the driver in exasperation. I couldn't have cared less if he had screamed at us for giving him the wrong time. He was going to let us in and we were going to sleep inside and on a bed.

It's good that I'm writing this down now, because it's been a few days since this happened. I have since become annoyed with the B&B because the wifi they have set up doesn't work. We've had to come up to their stuffy office to access the internet.

But now I'm just glad we're not still out on the streets of Rome.

18 Hours of Sleep and Maybe Ron Howard

So I made it last night until about 7 p.m., but I passed out almost the moment my head hit the pillow.

18 hours later I woke up. Woof.

After showering and getting dressed, Paul and I headed out. We spent most of the day around the Thames near Parliament and Westminster Abbey. We didn't get a chance to go into Westminster, so we'll go back and take lots of pictures.

We ended up heading to Trafalgar Square and exploring the area.

"What's that?" I would say.

"Let's go see," Paul would respond.

We ended up in a garden with lots of statues and plaques. It took us right by the Savoy, which I thought was great because of it's scene in The Importance of Being Earnest.

As we headed away from the Savoy it started raining. There was a guy coming toward us with a black umbrella. That's seriously all I noticed. Just ask Megan Adams; I don't notice famous people. I'm usually looking around at buildings and plants, not people.

After he passed, Paul was looking like he was trying to remember something. He asked me, "Who's the narrator in Arrested Development?"

"Ron Howard."

"I'm 100% sure that's who that guy was."

"Shut up!"

We watched/ kind of stalked him back to the Savoy, where he entered. I never saw his face; His umbrella was in the way. But Paul swears it was him.

I know, I know. Picture or it didn't happen. And I can't even really verify that it really happened, but it's still a funny story wanted to tell you all.

Maybe these posts will be frequent.

48 Hours of THE WORST

Alright.

I was not really planning on blogging during this trip. I haven't updated the blog in a while anyway and I want to save the really good stories for when I get home.

But, holy crap, the first two days of this trip is the new Hottest of Messes, and I've got to tell you all about it.

The story is a two-parter and a bit long, so bear with me.

PART I - Our Unexpected Detour to Canada
And also my first time in Canada

I already knew our travel time to London was going to be long. We flew out of JFK and were scheduled to have a ten-hour layover in Iceland. Then we would fly to Heathrow Airport, making our total travel time around 19 hours.

Imagine, if you will, a perfectly calm flight with Icelandair. I didn't know this- but Icelandair gives you free TV and movies and they have a pretty good selection. Honestly: Argo, Shawshank Redemption, All the President's Men and Sherlock Holmes were all available for me to watch, pause, rewind, etc. Not to shabby, huh?

About an hour-and-a-half into the flight, I noticed the flight attendants crowding around a seat two rows in front of me. I thought someone was having a panic attack, until the passenger started throwing punches.

Immediately about ten guys (bros, really- God bless) jumped up and pinned the guy down. He was screaming and the girlfriend of the guy who got punched was crying and profanities were being yelled AND I WAS FREAKING OUT.

Meanwhile one of the flight attendants ran up with her arms full of zip ties. I couldn't see everything but based on what I was hearing they bound his wrists and ankles. Immediately the man began to scream that these people were killing him and why weren't we all coming to his rescue? They quieted him, but soon after he would try to attack someone again, and the men on the plane would hold him down and bind him with more zip ties. Then he would start screaming again.

For the next hour or so this cycle continued, culminating in the rows in front-of and behind him being cleared, two male passengers guarding him from the seats behind and him being bound to his chair.

The captain announced that we would be making an emergency landing in Goose Bay, Canada. Most passengers were speculating that he was really drunk, but to be honest I think it had to be drugs. Maybe it was the crazed way he was screaming - half in French, half in English - but I would bet it was something stronger than booze.

After we landed, I watched out my window as three police cars, two ambulances and one stair car (you're gonna get hop-ons) pulled up to the plane. The man didn't fight as the police escorted him off the plane and to the ambulance. After the crew was asked some questions by the police and our plane was refueled, we took off and completed our trip to Iceland. Overall, we lost about four hours.

And needless to say, there was no sleep on that flight. But they did give us free food and drinks, so...

Part II - Literally Every Hotel in London is Booked

After six hours hanging out and sleeping at the airport in Iceland (there really just wasn't enough time to go explore after the delay) we hopped on our transfer flight to Heathrow Airport.

We had a reservation that night for a room in the Hilton on-site at the airport, knowing that we would be exhausted after traveling that long. We arrived, only to be told the reservation was made for the night before and that they were booked for the night.

Not losing hope, we found a coffee shop in the terminal. We grabbed some sandwiches and began to look for a hotel, any hotel, where we could stay that night.

And we looked.

And we looked.

And then we looked some more.

And then I was straight up crying because I had only gotten like two hours of sleep in the preceding 24 hours and it was midnight and guess what we were going to have to just hang out in the airport until we could check into our hostel downtown at 2 p.m. AND I HATE EUROPE AND LET ME GO HOME.

And so it was. Paul and I both tried to catch some sleep while the other watched our things. I barely slept. At some point I resigned myself to the inevitable and started downing caffeine.

So now, on roughly three hours of sleep for two days, we caught the tube to our hostel, which I immediately began to panic would be bed bug infested and horrible.

Right now, I'm sitting in the pub below the hostel. The building and rooms are downright charming, it's close to everything and the wifi is free.

We just ordered a pizza and we have reservations for the Eye of London tomorrow. Everything is good, and I'm hoping we got all the bad luck out of the way for this trip.

Now if you would be so kind as to knock on any wood nearby.

Thank you.

Farewell to Liz Lemon

30 Rock ends tonight.



I'll get through it; at least it means the return of Community.

But 30 Rock has given me, and anyone else who has enjoyed this show, one of the greatest characters of all time.

The amazing Elizabeth Lemon.



I don't know how to explain why Liz Lemon is the perfect character. She is a mess- a ridiculous, Princess Leia costume-wearing, Sabor de Soledad addicted, left wing mess.

SO WHY DO I RELATE TO HER SO MUCH?

Because the humor surrounding Liz's character isn't enough. There are plenty of funny women on television right now. The reason Liz Lemon is the perfect character is because all women feel like her at some point.

For me this is pretty frequent.

Sometimes- this is how I want to spend my friday night:



And when I'm hungry, I become inconsolable.



A lot of the time, people annoy me.



And then there's my awkwardness with men.



I'm constantly trying to balance being feminine with being strong and independent.

One of the greatest scenes in the show is when Liz is pushing down her desire to make a big deal of her wedding. "It's okay to be a human woman," Criss says to her. "No!" she insists. "It's the worst. Because of society." Their wedding invitation is perfection.

I'm still not entirely convinced that Liz didn't handle this situation appropriately. Isn't that how dodgeball works?

Hopefully I figure it out before I start to consider buying a cat and naming her Emily Dickinson. After all, if Liz can land James Marden there's hope for everyone.

So tonight, I'll go by a hoagie from Which-which (the closest thing I can find to a teamster sub in Provo) and watch the hour finale with my fellow 30 Rock lovers (ugh... that word bums me out unless it's between the words "meat" and "pizza").

And though her constant displays of excellence will end with the show, Liz Lemon will forever remain in my heart as a soul sister just trying to figure out how to have it all.

Op-Ed: Open hearts for those who leave

A few weeks ago I was going about my business in the newsroom when I got a text from my mom.

“An LDS guy won the Medal of Honor.”

I immediately began to research the story so we could publish something on The Universe website. As I searched, I found details of the award.

The recipient is Staff Sgt. Clinton Romesha. His actions on Oct. 3, 2009, earned him the highest award for valor in battle when 300 Taliban fighters attacked the outpost where Romesha’s unit (about 60 U.S. troops) was stationed. The battle lasted 12 hours. Romesha spent most of the battle moving under intense fire, directing men and helping the small band regroup. He also managed to neutralize a Taliban machine gun team. While attempting to take out another team, he was wounded in the neck, arms and shoulder by shrapnel after a rocket-propelled grenade exploded nearby. Romesha continued to fight and directed air support. Only eight U.S. troops lost their lives during the fight.

This battle was chronicled in “The Outpost” by Jake Trapper. A passage from the book answered the question concerning Romesha’s activity in the Church.

“His parents had hoped he would follow his father into the church leadership, and Romesha had in fact gone to seminary for four years during high school — from five till seven every morning — but ultimately it just wasn’t for him. He didn’t even go on a mission, a regular rite for young Mormon men. Romesha was better suited to this kind of mission, with guns and joes under his command.”

Automatically, for one brief moment, my heart sank with disappointment.

...

You can read the rest of my op-ed here.

I'm Still Alive

I'm still here.

And while I usually love writing and blogging, I've been having a hard time writing down anything lately.

I'm having hard time with a lot of things. I've found myself not seeing the point of being social or of doing much more than watching TV and sleeping.

I don't want to meet people. I don't want to make anymore friendships here. I'm pushing away the friends I already do have. I've begun to resent my school and the people at BYU. The reasons don't matter, but church, school, work - they've all become exhausting.

This low point has stretched on for a while, and last week it was confirmed that my dad will be headed to Afghanistan in a few months. It was just the shot in the arm my hot mess of a year needed.

I'm just so angry right now. The anger isn't really directed at one thing, it's just a constant burning in the pit of my stomach.

Tonight our Family Home Evening group came to our house for the activity. This still wasn't going to make me attend. This has nothing to do with my mood lately. FHE was a huge part of my life freshman year, but since then I've decided my Monday nights are better served doing other things. Like watching Downton Abbey with Elizabeth and Nathan Baier.

But I digress.

The point is, I had absolutely no intention of going, especially when my roommate told me we were building snowmen. But I like my roommates and I wasn't going to abandon them to host by themselves, especially when I was just going to be chilling in my room.

In a not very surprising twist, the snowmen building quickly turned into a snowball fight. Alex took these pictures:

I'm on the left. The girl in the right is Mallory, one of my other roommates.

The night wasn't bad. I met a few people, though it was made painfully clear that no one in my group knew who I was despite the fact that we're a week from Thanksgiving.

I guess what I'm trying to say is, I'm going to try and make the best of this last year at school. I don't magically expect this one unexpectedly painless evening of socializing to take away any of the frustrations in my life right now.

But I'm going to try.

The Hottest of Messes - Part IV (Or, Stuck in St. George)

As it turns out, the problem with Club PrezPotts was not just a tube. It was the transmission.

We found out early Monday morning after Andrew called the auto repair shop. We all immediately pulled out our phones to look at car rentals.

Online, our prospects didn't look so bleak. It looked like we could pick up an economy car in St. George and drop it off four hours later in Orem. No big deal. And all for a total of $65 including the underage fee. We started calling places to make reservations.

This process took from about 9 am to noon. Places wouldn't answer their phones. We called several places multiple times only to be told that they could help us out... tomorrow.

Apparently there were only two cars in all of St. George that were available for rent. Oh, and they wouldn't allow us to drop the car off in Orem; We'd have to find a way to get it back to St. George, so we'd also have to rent it out for a week. And it wouldn't be available until 4 pm.

We decided that this was really our only option if we wanted to be back in Provo that day. We reserved the car for 4 pm, went to lunch, and took naps. Not too bad of an afternoon.

The car was a Dodge Charger and the price came to about $344. After an hour at the rental place we stopped by the repair shop to grab some stuff that we optimistically left in Andrew's car and headed out to the freeway.

The trip back to Provo was MUCH longer than the trip down to St. George. First of all, a good fourth of the way was reduced to one lane. Second, we were completely reliant on the radio for any kind of music. There was actually a point where we pressed the scan button and it circled through all of the stations several times before we got reception again. There was some conversation, but really we were all pretty tired and aggravated and just wanted to be home.

Do misunderstand- we're all still friends. There were no angry words or hurt feelings, we all just needed to get out of that car. I don't think I've ever been that excited to be back in Provo.

As I write this, Club PrezPotts is on its way back to Provo. My family is coming up from Phoenix this weekend and my brother agreed to pick the car up from the shop and drive it up. They'll take the Charger back down on Sunday.

Personally, I don't regret the trip at all. It's kind of a shame that the trip will forever be referred to as "The Hottest of Messes", because it was a blast and just the vacation I needed.

I can't speak for everyone else, but when I look back on The Hottest of Messes it will be a good memory.

The Hottest of Messes - Part III (Or, It's Probably Just a Tube)

The day started out perfectly. We slept in, woke up at our leisure, and ate some breakfast. Andrew went to visit his aunt while the rest of us hung out by the pool tanning, reading, and swimming. After packing and showering we ate some lunch and by 3 pm we were all in the car ready to go.

About 20 minutes out of St. George, right as I-15 merges into two lanes, Club PrezPotts started to slow down even though Andrew hadn't let up on the accelerator at all. We pulled over to the side of the road and that's when Kevin noticed white smoke coming from under the hood.

The boys got out to look at the engine, mostly because that's just what you do. None of us really knows anything about cars. Kevin told us that there was something leaking, but they didn't know what. We all started calling dads and uncles when a semi pulled over to the side of the road and started backing up towards us. A really kind guy got out to see if he could help. After checking a few things he said, "It might just be a tube or something, but you've leaked oil all over your breaks so you should probably call a tow."

With a semi-diagnosis and a plan, our moods improved. After calling a tow and establishing the hashtag #hottestofmesses on twitter (which you should all check out), we preceded to watch Arrested Development on my phone in an effort to distract from the fact that we were sitting in 104 degree heat on the side of the freeway.

Once the tow truck arrived (about an hour later) we realized a major planning error. The truck only had one passenger seat. How were we supposed to get back to St. George? The driver told us that he could legally take us to the next exit where we could wait for someone to come pick us up.

All I heard when he said that was: You get to ride in a car on the back of a two truck!!!

I'm not sure why this was so exciting to me, but Alex and I immediately got out our phones to document the incident.

Once the car was loaded on the truck, the driver told Andrew to put the car in park and that he should probably put the emergency break on for good measure.

"I'm not sure the emergency break even works," Andrew decided to reassure us as the truck took off.

I'm don't know exactly what legal obligations the driver was under, but he dropped us off at the next exit with civilization. The very next exit after he picked us up was really just a dirt road. We waited at a Texaco off the exit to New Harmony, UT. There were picnic tables outside of this gas station. We decided to wait there instead of inside the building which frankly smelled like a septic tank.

After a while, Andrew's aunt came to rescue us. By 7 pm we were back in St. George at my aunt's house. We knew we would need to stay one more night. We all made phone calls, assuring parents we were okay and getting work off. We had full confidence that Club PrezPotts would be good as new by tomorrow. I can't tell you how many times the phrase, "It's probably just a tube or something" was said. Not that any of us knew what that meant, we just knew that the helpful trucker had said that and it sounded like a minor problem.

We joked about having an extra day of vacation and tried not to expect the worst.

So, of course, the worst happened.

The Hottest of Messes - Part II (Or, Acrophobia)

It's probably been made clear at this point that our planning skills were not exactly stellar during this trip. Friday night we made our plans to go to Zion's after Kevin suggested we do the Narrows. Thankfully we didn't just leave it at that and actually looked up the Narrows to see exactly what that entailed.

Turns out, it entails wading some 16 miles through the Virgin River; a task we obviously weren't prepared for. So we decided to tackle Angel's Landing, a hike Kevin had done twice before.

As the shuttle bus drove us through the park, the automated tour guide described the beauty of each hike as we approached the trailhead. When he began describing Angel's Landing, he began to use words like "treacherous", "steep", and "reconsider".

No really. He said, "Reconsider if anyone in your party feels uncomfortable."

As any group of twenty-somethings would do, we laughed about it and headed up anyway.

For those of you who haven't done Angel's Landing, the last third of the hike has chains welded into the rock for you to use as you basically scale the mountain to the summit.

Kevin had mentioned this to us but hadn't really explained what we were signing up for. After endless switchbacks we saw a chain and used to to climb up to a flat area, which I will forever refer to as "Fake Angel's Landing". I looked over the side and was met with the sight of an extremely high and steep cliff.

"Holy crap," I said. Andrew was right behind me. I said, "check this out."

Andrew then proceded to lay flat on the rock and edge himself slowly to the side. He peeked over, said, "oh," and then sat in the middle.

"Wait," I said, "are you afraid of heights?"

"You didn't know that?"

I considered the irony of him making us wait in the desert while he attempted to climb the rock in Snow Canyon that he called "The Cliffs of Insanity", but I let it go.

After sitting there for a few minutes, I noticed people walking around on the much-higher cliff next to the one where we were perched. I pointed this out to the rest of the group, wondering how they even got up there.

"That's where we're going," Kevin said.

"What?"

"That's Angel's Landing."

Andrew didn't like this revelation. "Tell me you're kidding, Kevin."

So we proceeded to finish the hike we though we had already finished. Andrew went first, then Kevin, then Alex, then me. While we climbed we kept hearing Kevin laugh.

"What are you laughing at?" Alex asked.

"Andrew keeps swearing under his breath."

It didn't take us too long to get to the real Angel's Landing. The view was incredible.

The view from "Fake Angel's Landing"

Once we arrived back at the trailhead, we decided to go check out the Narrows. We waded around in the river for a while, talked about coming back some other weekend to complete this hike, and then headed back to the house.

It was a really awesome day, at least I think so, and we had a chill evening enjoying what we thought would be our last night in St. George.

The Hottest of Messes - Part I (Or, That One Time We Almost Died)

Our quick weekend trip to St. George began Friday morning at 6. I'm super impressed that we all got out of bed that early without the help of our mothers.

But whose car to drive? Alex's needed an oil change. Kevin had driven to and from California the week before. This left mine or Andrew's, and Andrew's let us hook up our iPods to the stereo. The choice was obvious and we took the vehicle that we lovingly call "Club PrezPotts."

This innocent, but ill-fated decision wouldn't come back to bite us in the butt until Sunday, but more on that later.

We arrived in St. George at about 10 am. The forecast was a scorcher, but so far the day didn't seem to bad. After stopping by my aunt's house to drop of luggage and change, we grabbed some breakfast and Powerade (on sale at Albertson's- $5 for 12!!) and headed to Snow Canyon.

Fully hydrated and rested, our first hike in Snow Canyon was quite enjoyable. We headed back to the car to replenish our water supply and then went to find the caves.

This was also awesome since they were cool and out of the sun.

Andrew decided he wanted to go hike up a really high peak he had seen on their last trip to St. George near Three Ponds. But instead of going back to the car for more water, we headed straight there which turned out to be stupid.

Once we got to Three Ponds we found a patch of shade, an incredibly rare find at 1 pm. Alex, Kevin, and I were all ready to head back to the car, but Andrew wouldn't be stopped. Kevin went with him, and Alex and I waited in the shade.

Our view from the shade

Soon, Alex had a headache and I was getting nauseous. Our phones had no signal and the wind was picking up, blowing hot air and sand into our shady hide out. Despite all this, we managed to keep it together while watching Tangled on my phone.

That's when the bee showed up.

Alex saw it first and jumped up, prepared to run away. It landed on her back and she stayed perfectly still. "Do you want me to hit it with my shoe?" I asked.

"Yeah, but first get it off my back."

"But then it'll come after me!"

Then the bee lost interest in Alex and landed on my shoulder. Our exchange continued, with reversed roles, until the bee flew back to Alex and the cycle continued.

This went on for a good 10 minutes, all with Tangled playing in the background. Finally the bee flew away, right as we heard the boys coming back.

We hastily returned to our original spots in the shade, and continued to watch the movie like nothing happened. No need for them to know that we were having total come-aparts in their absence.

I don't know what happened with them. All we know is that Kevin eventually convinced Andrew that there was no way to the top. Honestly- where would we be without KHolt?

Note: I want you all to remember Andrew's persistence in wanting to hike to the highest point around so that you can fully appreciate the irony that will be in tomorrow's post. 

Now all that remained was to find Club PrezPotts. It took us about 20 minutes to find the road, and then about 10 more minutes to get to the car. We could see it in the distance, and all I could think about was what if the car vanished when we got to it, like a mirage? It seemed like a real possibility what with us trudging through the desert in 105 degree heat and all being dehydrated.

Luckily, it was the real car. We all downed bottles of warm Powerade, went back to the house, swam, showered, and then went out for some Mongolian BBQ.

We watched TV until we fell asleep, ready to head to Zions the next day. 

10 Things I Love About My Summer Home

In August, Alex and I are moving into a cute little house, just south of BYU campus. We can't wait. In the meantime, I moved into a townhouse in a complex called Chatsworth with my friend Elizabeth. This little setup has turned out to be the perfect summer apartment.

Here are some reasons why:

1) It's constantly filled with people that I like: Elizabeth, Lauren, Alex, and Nathan... among others.

2) Our TV (which is on a swivel board so it can be viewed from any area on the main floor) is perpetually on and its usually showing The Food Network or TLC. Our favorite shows are Chopped, My Big Fat American Gypsy Wedding, and Sweet Genius.

3) I feel like there's always food in our apartment. Whether Elizabeth is making crepes or we've all just come back from Sonic for their daily deal (pronounced "dill"), there are always snacks to be had.

4) Probably because of our obsession with Chopped, we use pretentious words like "whimsical", "layered", and "multi-dimensional" to describe the food we eat.

5) If swear words are said, no one freaks out.

6) It's super close to campus. I literally only takes me 10 minutes to walk to work. This is a great improvement from my Fall and Winter home where it took me 25 minutes.

7) Ninety percent of the time, everyone is laughing.

8) My room is in the basement and its about 10 degrees cooler than the rest of the apartment. We call it the Robin's Nest and its perfect for relaxing in the summer.

9) Our fridge is full of Dr. Pepper and Cherry Coke. (I realize that this is 3rd one about food, but food is an important part of summer.)

10) Its right across the street from the Elms apartment complex, where several of my friends from last summer live. This is extremely important because they allow me access to the Elms pool. This completely takes away the shame of using a pool I'm not paying for.

All You Need Is Food (Food Is All You Need)

Burgers Supreme, J-Dawgs, and Costa Vida.

These are among my favorite haunts in Provo. Seriously, I may have to start wearing a fake mustache when I go; The servers are starting to recognize me.

But the food! Oh, the food! It's sooooooo good.

But it needs to stop. We're hitting the high 80's here in Provo. Swimsuit season is among us, and I need to stop eating junk.

Alex and I decided that we're not going to eat out anymore... except for on the weekends... and weekends start on Friday.

Oh, yeah. We're cracking down hard.

I have one or two good healthy summer recipes. Any recommendations?

A Real Adult Person (Who REALLY Sucks at Swimming)

Look what I got in the mail this weekend!

It's side-ways and everything! And thus I am officially an adult person, able to do things like drink, rent a car (sometimes), and drink.

Except, I go to BYU... so really just rent a car (sometimes).

Silly as it may seem, getting my license in the mail really did make me think about how much I've changed since high school.

For one thing, I have wheels now. A few months ago, my uncle helped me find a car. I bought a 2000 Hyundai Elantra - my very first car. (I don't count the Ford Focus mom and dad bought Paul and I, since Paul totaled it before I ever drove it.)

But its not really the stuff I own that's changed me. I can really say that I don't feel like a teenager anymore. College doesn't change that. During my freshman year I still felt like a middle-schooler: out of place and surrounded by people I was sure were older and wiser than myself.

This change made itself manifest last Friday when I decided to try something new and swim laps at the gym for a good cross-training workout.

When I set out to do this I didn't feel like I was going out on a limb. Since high school, my family has gone on quite a few surfing trips. While I hadn't ever swam for sport before, I felt like my surfing experience would make me a decent swimmer. Plus mom had me take lessons when I was kid. I remember the techniques:

No problem.

The pool at the gym only has three lanes, so I was worried they might all be taken by the time I got there; I didn't really want to share a lane with a stranger. When I got there, the pool was empty except for three Asian girls standing in one lane of the pool, talking to each other in another language.

"Sweet!" I thought, "I've basically got the whole thing to myself." I started my first lap.

Did you know that swimming isn't quite like paddling on a board? I think this was made clear since I'm pretty sure the only thing I was doing right was my arm movements.

No matter how straight I tried to make my legs, they kept going back to doing this dorky bicycle-kick movement.

I know that I'm supposed to put my face in the water and then turn my head out of the water to breathe. Instead, I kept spluttering and gasping. Eventually I decided it would be less embarrassing to just keep my head up. This, of course, began to make my back and neck ache because I was arching so bad.

By the time I finished my first lap, the girls at the end of the pool were cracking-up and since they weren't speaking English it felt like they were laughing at me, which is probably the case. I'm sure I looked like a class-A moron.

High school me would have gotten out of the pool right then and there. She would have waited in the locker room for 30 minutes so that the people at the front desk didn't notice that my time in the pool amounted to about 3 minutes. Then I would have left, never returned, and never spoken of it again.

But grown up me chose to believe that the girls were laughing at a really funny non-swimming-related joke, kept "swimming" until my 20-minute workout was finished, and decided to go again this week.

Though, maybe I'll go at 3 in the morning until I look less stupid. My new found maturity only goes so far.

You Can Sleep When You're Dead

This was my mantra last week.

I spent all of my time at home on the love seat, surrounded by textbooks, papers, my laptop and about 50 cans of diet Dr. Pepper. 

Oh, and some Cadbury Eggs. They were necessary.

Maybe I'd sleep for an hour or two. Maybe not. Needless to say, I was absolutely exhausted by Thursday, when my last paper/ project was due. While I was cleaning up my mess in the living room, I thought about how emotionally and physically wearing this semester has been. I just want to walk away from it, scarred but still living.

Don't get me wrong, there were some great things that happened this semester. I got to write for the Daily Universe, and although it took gratuitous amounts of my sweat, blood and tears, I know that studying journalism was a good choice. Nothing makes me happier than finishing an article that I worked my butt off on.

But still, writing for the paper while taking 14 credit hours and working 20 hours a week was a bad mix. I need a break.

I hung out with Alex a little bit this weekend. We talked about summer plans and it just made me really happy.

This summer there will be hiking, camping, road-tripping, shopping, sushi-eating, jogging, swimming, sun-bathing, reading, movie-watching, sleeping, tubing, BBQ-ing, chilling, and... well.... in short:

And hopefully, I'll remember to blog about them.

Four Wheeling (or Fourlin', If You Will)

Before Saturday, I had never been on a four wheeler before.

But, you know, I had never rolled a four wheeler either.

I was in town to be at my grandparents' homecoming from their LDS mission to Armenia. While we were there, my uncle was super stoked to take all the nieces and nephews four wheeling.

I was hooked instantly.

On my first ride, I drove with my mom. This stressed me out a bit, but once I got going I was surprised at how much I loved it. I felt so hardcore... though I was only going like 15 MPH.

Once I felt more confident, we went back to pick up some of the younger cousins. With my 9 year-old sister and 7 year-old cousin on the back of my machine, I followed my uncle for my second ride.

After a while he warned me that we were coming up to a really steep hill. He gave me some instruction and went down the hill.

At the top, I felt scared. I didn't want to do this. But that feeling of invincibility that we all get between the ages of 16 and 30 kicked in, and suddenly I was willing to try anything.

Probably shouldn't have tried this though.

Going down, I gassed it a little too hard. I hit the brake and felt the machine tip a bit. Instead of leaning, I automatically turned in the opposite direction.

That's when the four wheeler flipped.

My cousin, my sister, and I all were thrown off the machine. It rolled over us and landed at the bottom of the hill.

As soon as I could, I jumped up and checked that the girls weren't trapped under the machine. They weren't. I don't think I've ever been as appreciative of the fact that my uncle is an EMT as I was in that moment. He checked on Sara, and I checked on Bella. They were both fine, just shaken.

Once we got back to the house, my other sister and other cousin who were riding with my uncle had a total come apart. I guess watching us tumble was scarier than actually tumbling. The parents were all stressed, and so was my uncle. I was just embarrassed.

This morning I woke up bruised and beaten. I don't think there is a part of my body that doesn't feel sore.

Still- this all makes for a good story, right?

...Right?

Cleanliness is Next to Godliness

There are so, so many problems with the way BYU does student housing. For example, their policy that all students have to live in "BYU aproved housing" or the fact that they charge us by room.

But I think the worst housing policy is the cleaning checks.

Since coming to BYU in 2009, I have lived in four different apartment complexes, each with their own version of cleaning checks.

Some were great and acted more as a routine maintenance check.

Some just sucked (ahem... Bountiful Court).

This month's cleaning check at the Riviera was the most ridiculous yet. When we got back from break, we found a notice on our door saying that cleaning checks were going to be super strict from now on and "Happy New Year!"

Last week we got our cleaning check forms in the mail. We were scheduled for checks on Tuesday between 8 and 9 p.m. At 8 o'clock sharp, we were ready. The apartment was immaculate. We waited until 9 to touch anything.

We didn't eat. We didn't shower. We didn't go to sleep.

9 o'clock came... and went... so did 10... and 11.

Finally we all just called it a night and went to bed. Before I fell asleep I put my cleaning check form on my desk.

At 9 a.m. the next morning, I woke up. My first conscious thought was, "I wonder what's going to happen with cleaning checks?" Automatically, I looked over at my form.

It wasn't there.

I didn't think too much of this. Grabbing my computer, I proceeded to check my Facebook, Twitter, email, etc. That's when I saw my roommate's status:

Waking up to a strange lady in your room. Creepy! Can I say, cleaning check lady, your're almost 8 hours late!!!!! And we are all sleeping!!!!!! Gosh! I had more time to sleep! This was not ok. .... Not ok at all.

Slowly, it began to dawn on me. About two hours before I woke up there had been a complete stranger in my bedroom poking around for signs of dust and dirt.

NOT OKAY.

A few of my roommates and I went over to the office to discuss our concerns. They apologized profusely and swore it wouldn't happen again.

Still- there's got to be a better way, BYU.

A Few Post Alt Summit Thoughts

I will never not go to Alt again. Seriously. But I'll probably be more assertive next year.

No more wimping out on myself. Tomorrow it's time to get my rear in gear. The Rex Lee 10K is on March 17. I have until then to be better, stronger, and faster. Bring on the intervals!!!

I need to be writing more. Not just for the Daily Universe. I mean, I have a blog and like 4 empty journals! I need to stop being chicken. I need to just write my thoughts, and the poetry and stories I have contantly rolling around in my brain. Because I'm freaking good at it! Most of the time, anyway. And all of these potentially great writings are going to waste, lost in my mind. Not anymore.

I need to buy a car, find a new apartment, get stories for the Daily Universe, and catch up in classes. Hot mess! But I'm going to do all of that and be more positive.

Carpe the Hell Out of This Diem

Yesterday, at about 5 PM, I was walking out of the Harold B. Lee Library and walking to my Doctrine and Covenants class. I had just finished a 5 page research paper on Lucy Mack Smith that I had only started that morning at about 10. I had achieved this, while still maintaining perfect attendance for the day, taking a Spanish Exam (which I got an 85% on), and going to work for 4 hours. As an added bonus, I had my gym clothes packed in my bag, so there was a very high chance I was actually going to work out later that day. As I made my way to the Joseph Smith building this image came to mind:

Thank you, Pinterest. I think I just did.

I was feeling pretty invincible. I got my phone out so that I could tweet my awesomeness to the world.

That's when I caught sight of my reflection in the window of the building I was walking past. And then I remembered, I looked like a hot mess.

My hair was in a nasty ponytail that was somehow both greasy and frizzy at the same time, which went well with the previous day's makeup. I was wearing an old pair of jeans, vans, and possibly the most unflattering sweater in my closet. Why the ugly clothes? I hadn't done laundry in a couple of weeks. My mind didn't stop there. I contemplated how my breakfast and lunch consisted of a single can of Pringles, and how I was on my way to grab some pretzels out of the vending machine to go with my diet Dr. Pepper. Dinner of champions.

In that moment, I was reminded of my own mortality, or Liz Lemon-ness if you will. Life is a great exchange, and you can't have everything. Yesterday, I guess I chose grades over beauty.

But, since I didn't run into anyone important and I did make it to the gym, I'm still going to call yesterday a success.

Tie a Yellow Ribbon 'Round the Ole Oak Tree

Have you seen the Google today? I ran across it at work and I teared up a little.


Almost 5 years ago my mom, my siblings, and I spent a Saturday morning tying yellow ribbon in the four trees on our front lawn.

We filled every tree, using a ladder to reach the highest branches.

We did this because later in the week, dad was finally coming home from Iraq!

A year before, we were getting ready to say goodbye. My mom remembers...

The worst part of Paul's deployment to Iraq was the weeks leading up to him leaving.  I started clenching my jaw.  I could hardly open my mouth which turned out to be convenient because I wasn't hungry.  It was terrifying to me to try and plan for every possible eventuality.    "What if I need a new car?" "What is the plan if I am hurt or killed while Paul is gone?"  "What is the plan if . . .?"  It was too much.   In a way it was a relief the day he left.  Finally!  We can get on with this and get it over with!  I dropped him off at the 4th Infantry Division Building, drove home and slept for four hours.  
 
It was about a week before dad was leaving, maybe it was just a few days.  Paul and I drove to Ft. Hood.  We were running errands and taking care of last minute things.  I think that day we needed to update a power of attorney or something like that.  Anyway, we were at the intersection just before the train tracks on South Ft. Hood Street and Business 1-90.  Before the light turned green the railroad crossing bars came down and we knew we were going to be sitting there awhile.  On the radio the DJ announced that the next song was "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas".  Bing Crosby sang and we were sad.  What we were enduring didn't feel little or merry.  Then he sang the words.  "A year from now our troubles will be out of sight."  It is a powerful but unhappy memory. 

I remember the train and the song and the pressure and crying into my hands, praying that Paul and I would be up to the tasks we were facing.  

That year we decorated our house in blue and silver for Christmas, instead of red and gold, and had a Blue Christmas. It was a rough year, but it ended with the safe return of our soldier.

So, on Veteran's Day, I think about those who have fought and who are fighting. But I also think of the wives and children who are eagerly counting down the days, those who are saying their goodbyes, and those who are in between, just praying not to hear bad news today.

But mostly, I think of my dad.

In the Home Stretch... and it Kind of Sucks

I remember when I was about 12, my family lived in Kansas. Our house had a giant, open basement which had a bad habit of getting RIDICULOUSLY messy in a matter of days. About once a month, mom would drag us downstairs and together we would organize and clean that monstrosity.

It would take forever.

There would always come a point where we literally only had to straighten-up before we were finished. But at this point it would seem like a totally insurmountable task. I would ask if we could take a break (translation: call it a day), but mom would make us push through. Cheerfully, she would say, "We're in the home stretch!"

I hated the home stretch.

There's about two weeks until my first half-marathon. Up until now, I have been a total beast about keeping up with my training. But today, I just cannot face my run. I'm totally in the home stretch. I've worked so hard and I'm totally ready for this race! The only problem is, if I want to stay ready, I have to keep working... and I've lost all of my motivation.

Any suggestions on how to beat this???

In the mean time...