Unfortunately

I am here to tell you an unfortunate story.

It starts out fortunate, with some cute boys coming and sitting by my roommates and me in Sunday school.

My fortune started to wane a little when I couldn't hear anything that anyone else, the teacher or my classmates, was saying, so I started to color in a missionary letter for one of my best friends.

Which started up the "do you have a missionary?" conversation, which led into the "relationship status" conversation.

Which isn't too unfortunate, until it reminded me that I had to send a txt. And in my head, I was like: "Maybe I shouldn't txt during church. I'm supposed to be paying attention, after all." But since I couldn't hear anything anyway, I figured it would be okay.

So I just leaned myself forward in my little seat. My phone was mere inches from my fingertips.

And then, my heel slipped. I lurched forward. My face smacked the chair in front of me, and every boy in the ward turned to look.

I didn't even know what to do. I turned to the boy next to me and said stupidly, "Did you see what just happened to me?"

Of course he had.

But the story isn't even over there! Because a few minutes later, I decided I could try to get my phone again. I planted my feet firmly on the ground. I leaned forward. My fingers closed around my phone. I started to sit up to type out the txt I had to send.

My phone went clattering to the floor.

I felt like God was really bugged that I kept trying to txt during Sunday School, so I stopped trying then. Unfortunately, this happened several hours ago, and this is still kind of what I look like, in my head:

Today I don't feel like......

Doing anything. Friends, I'm afraid that this song has become the theme song of my life.

Except the part about meeting a really nice girl. But everything else.

To make myself feel better, I have compiled this list of

Productive things I have done since leaving Florida:

1. caught up a little on Nikita and Gossip Girl.

2. caught up on everyone else's blogs.

3. figured out my dress for the Rose Ball. (still have yet to figure out my shoes and accessories.)

4. painted my nails.

5. painted my toenails.

6. picked up Jacob from school one day.

7. made dinner two nights!

8. took Julie to the store to buy ice cream.

9. went to NIH for a screening for a study.

10. went to Institute.

11. went to Alyssa's house and helped her cut her hair. Even though she had to cut 6 inches off the next day. And she says she hates it now. I bet it still looks beautiful!

12. caught up on sleep. (that's productive, right?)

13. made a photo book of my time in Florida.

14. started writing some missionary letters.

15. worked out with Julie.

16. wrote this blog.

I think when I go back to Utah, this song will be the theme song of my life.

Rambling.

In my psychology class last year, we learned that there are about 7 "slots" in your short-term, or working memory. That means that if given a big long list, most people can only remember 7 of the things on the list. If they group them, then they can only remember 7 of the groups of things on the list. Studies have been done. Some people say we have more like 4 slots in our working memory,

I disagree. I'm thinking way more than 4 things right now. Maybe I'm an anomaly, but judging from my grades this semester, which I just saw, I don't think that's correct. I'm actually incredibly average.

This is me trying to unload my whole entire brain into one blog post.

1. I've been working a lot recently. ColdStone operates on a set schedule, meaning that every week, you work on the same days, as the same times. The schedule changes every few weeks. Since I am going home for most of May and a little bit of June, I wasn't given any shifts this rotation. So now I just fill in for people. I've been getting a lot of calls, so I have actually worked every day this week. It's just nice because I kind of get to pick when I work. There's no reallll obligation, and people are immensely grateful when I cover for them so they can go to fill-in-the-blank. Prom. Grandparent's 50th wedding anniversary. Graduation. Michael Buble concert.

I love working at ColdStone, absolutely love it. It's not that hard. At first I think I was really overwhelmed, but I learned quickly and now I'm pretty good at everything. My proudest moment came when I was teaching a new boy how to do something on the register and the customer asked if I was a manager. I said no and they said I should be and gave us a tip. I might have been blushing for the rest of the day. Who's to say.

Here are some things I like about working at ColdStone:

a. the people. I think I should dedicate a whole post to all the people who work at ColdStone. I can't think of anyone I work with that I actually dislike. There was one girl, but she went home for the summer and Jackie said she won't be hired again when she comes back. I guess I wasn't the only one who didn't like her! But besides her, I love everyone. To work at ColdStone, you have to be funny and cheerful and friendly, which is great. There's just a good atmosphere there, and I can tell that everyone really likes me, too. Sorry if that sounds conceited....it's just because everyone is so nice and everyone likes everyone else.

b. the employee discount. I get 50% off and it is awesomee. I think that's enough about that.

c. making cakes. Some people don't like making cakes, but I love it. It's my favorite job at ColdStone. Today Sandee (my manager) sent out a mass txt saying that if anyone could come in to make cakes, it would be greatly appreciated. I showed up expecting to see hordes of people and discovered that I was the only one who had come to make cakes. I was thrilled! I spent five hours making cake after cake. It was splendid.

d. the customers. The thing about working at an ice cream store is that your customers are almost always happy. I have not had a single customer be rude to me. The line can get pretty long at ColdStone, and people will still be so happy to get their ice cream and pay for it. And they'll tip. Sometimes, cute boys come into ColdStone, and that is my favorite. I will try to calculate exactly how long I should spend on the customer I'm helping at the moment in order to be the one who gets to help the cute boys. There is a surprisingly high number of boys who come in without dates, which is fine with me. But really. I see about as many boys on dates with other boys as I see boys on dates with girls. I love when kids come in, too. Except when it's late and they're crying. Then I just want to tell their parents, "Put your child in beddd, they don't need ice cream at 10:18 at night. They're tired!" I will never understand the frustrated, red-faced mothers who grab their child's wrist, shove them at the counter, and say, "Which kind do you want, the blue one? Okay, tell the lady. Do you want ice cream? Okay. He wants the cotton candy. Gummy bears? Do you want gummy bears? Yes or no!?" I'm just like, "Why are you here. Why? Thank you for your patronage, but why are you force-feeding ice cream to your child when they should have been in bed two hours ago?"

e. when people come and visit me. It honestly makes my day. My favorite customers are Kelly and Dahl.

f. the music. It is important to me that wherever I work has a good playlist. I have to sing. There's not a whole lot of variety in the songs that play at ColdStone, but that just means I can get to know the songs that do play reallyy well.

Okay, that's enough about ColdStone.

2. I'm also thinking a lot about my ex-roommates. It makes me sad to call them that, but that's just kind of what they are. I love them a lot. Since moving out less than a week ago, I have slept over at Chelsea's new apartment twice because I miss her too much. On our last night together, Chelsea, Aimee and I brought our mattresses out to the living room and all slept together. Crystal and Connor joined us and Connor gave everyone henna tattoos. I've never had one and they were instantly addicting. I got three because I was so excited about it. We all sat there and talked about first impressions of each other and what we liked about each other. Crystal and I are both staying in Raintree, but she's staying in 321 and I'm moving in with Kelly. Chelsea and Christine both moved to the Colony and Aimee is moving.....somewhere else. Far away from me. Even though we all love each other and get along so well, we just ended up going separate ways. So I'm sad, but it was a good way to end the year.

3. I'm thinking how happy I am that this semester is over. I hated it, hated it. I liked one of my classes. Okay actually I liked three of my classes. But it was my hardest semester yet and it was cold and I was trying to figure out how to juggle a job and classes and I lost my gumption for a second and it was just super-frustrating. There were so many nights that I stayed up until 5 in the morning working on homework, and so many weeks that I had 5 tests all scheduled at once. And it wasn't even rewarding. I didn't enjoy my classes as much as I always have before. I was so ready for the semester to be over.

4. I'm thinking about how excited I am to go home and see everyone. My sister Sarah is getting baptized the day after we fly in, and I'm so excited to be there for that. Plus, Nicole is giving the speech at her graduation and that's going to be AWESOME. She's so adorable and I know she'll do such a great job!

I can't wait to see Malan and Owen, either. I nannied for them last summer and will be nannying for them while I'm home. They are so freaking cute and I really love them so much. Like, I would jump in front of a bus for them, I'm not even kidding. I'm more protective of them than almost anyone else. Here's an example.

Owen has a birthmark on one side of his face and last summer he was getting laser treatments to make it go away. The laser treatments would make his face really splotchy for about a week and then it would fade a little bit more each time. Anyway, one day last summer we were on a walk (probably to the post office) and this huge, probably 21 or 22-yr old guy smoking a cigarette glanced down at Owen and said to me, "What happened to dat baby's face?" I didn't even realize what he was talking about for a second and got really concerned that Owen was hurt or something. When I remembered that he has a birthmark, I got really indignant. I said, "Oh. It's a birthmark." The guy didn't nod understandingly. Instead, one corner of his mouth drew up in a grimace as he took another critical look at the baby in the stroller. He was at least a foot taller than me and probably weighed about triple what I do, but I really almost punched him in his puffy cheek, I was so mad. Instead, I grabbed Malan's hand and marched across the street. In that second after his ignorant question, I thought of several things to say. "What happened to your face?" "Probably his mom smoked when he was a baby" (he was smoking a cigarette). "His face looks a hell of a lot better than your's."

I didn't say any of those things because of Malan. She didn't even know a confrontation was going on. Besides that, Owen did have a distinctive birth mark. People were probably going to ask questions later on, too, and I didn't want Malan to think it was something to be ashamed of or get mad about. People just didn't know. I wanted her to see how to respond civilly to that kind of thing, without getting flustered.

Nannying was one of the best parts of my summer last year. I learned so much from Malan and Owen and I really reallyy love them. I'm excited to do it again this summer!

5. I'm thinking a lot about relationships. Here's my thing. I'm really picky. Like reallyy picky. And little things can make or break the deal. For instance, if....hypothetically, of course....I was dating a boy, and everything seemed to be going perfectly well, but then I found out that he didn't like snakes, that could be enough for me to stop liking him altogether. Hypothetically. Because it's actually not the fact that he doesn't like snakes that is bothering me. It's the fact that I do like snakes, and he's afraid of them, so I'm the manlier one. Even if he's the one asking me on dates. I'm still the one who would hypothetically be fighting off the boa constrictors that hypothetically attacked our house when we were hypothetically married. I can't be the manlier one in a relationship, I just can't. And I'm not asking that much. I am really girly. I don't like bugs. I have pink blankets, pillows, picture frames, book bags, moccasins, and hair accessories. I love boys. I listen to Taylor Swift, Hannah Montana, the Jonas Brothers, and Justin Bieber--probably the girliest playlist you have ever heard. If I am the man in a relationship, there is a problem.

Another example. If, hypothetically, I am dating a boy, and he makes a shape. Out of, say, a grapefruit peel. And he says it's supposed to look like a puppy, but hypothetically, all I can see is something way dirtier than a puppy, and he hypothetically can't see it, then there's another problem. Because boys are really dirty. And if I am the more inappropriate one, then there is definitely another problem.

And hypothetically, I wouldn't be able to handle that, either.

6. I'm also thinking about sales tax. Does the state or the federal government decide how much it is?

7. I'm also considering getting some crocs for work. I really hate crocs. Like, I haaaate them. I think they are the ugliest effing shoes ever invented. But I need some shoes that I hate for work. My feet are always getting wet from the spadewell and from doing dishes and I would love to not care. I would feel like I was going against one of my strongest convictions--I am religious in my hatred of crocs--but I might just have to.

8. I'm thinking about other jobs I should get. I really want to work at Color Me Mine, but I'm also considering a flower shop, since I took a floral design class. I also hear that it's good to work for the US Census, but I'm not sure if they'd hire me since I won't be here for all of May. I'm just going to try to apply when I get back.

9. I'm also thinking about how exhausting feelings really are. On Tuesday, I was having a lot of feelings. Way too many. I went in to work at 5 and told everyone that it was "Feelings Day." I was the only girl, working with four boys, and they were all thrilled to participate in Feelings Day. It was a very positive response. I guess everyone has feelings and they all wanted to talk about them. Furthermore, they were more than happy to listen to my feelings, which was just what I needed. I thought I would feel better after Feelings Day, but it was actually quite draining. I slept until 3 on Wednesday. I think this was a direct result of Feelings Day.

10. Music snobs. Perfectly nice people can be music snobs. Most of the time, music snobs are snobs about classics. New music is not good music, in their minds. "Mainstream" is a terrible insult. If it's on the radio, it's probably not very good. Well, why not? Just because the lyrics aren't deep. Maybe they're a little superficial. Maybe the song is just for fun. So why do you have to be hating on it? This attitude bothers me.

11. Missionaries. Should write letters on their p-days. I should be getting a letter soon. Ohmy I think I'm going to throw up, I'm so nervous.

12. Impulse buys aren't always bad. I made two two nights ago that have proven quite useful. Dahl, Kelly, and I went to Walmart after I got home from ColdStone and Feelings Day was winding down. I still had lots of feelings. So I talked about them a lot as I walked through the aisles, looking from side to side, battering my cart around in search of anything I might ever want to eat. I ended up buying lots of food and a green sandwich container with a dinosaur on the lid and a princess beach towel. These were impulse buys. I almost bought a hot wheels sheet cake, too. Then I didn't. It's probably better that I left that on the shelf. But I am glad that I bought my sandwich container and my beach towel. I've already used the sandwich container. I will use my beach towel almost every day this summer, since I'm determined to get tan, and every minute that I'm not working will be spent by the pool. I'm not even joking.

13. This apartment needs toilet paper.

14. I hope NIH calls me back.

15. I should play the piano more.

16. I miss my black tenta.

17. I need to catch up on Gossip Girl.

18. My mail key got stuck in the mailbox today. I had to call maintenance. It was slightly embarrassing. And I didn't even get a letter.

19. I went to lunch with Winnie, Chelsea, and Christine this afternoon. We went to Guru's. It was my first time and it was quite good. I love these girls. I wore Chelsea's pants. We all shared food even though Chelsea has a bit of a sore throat. I like food. I thought my dish was good. Even though Chelsea said it tasted like an old man. (And I kind of agreed with her).

20. I picked my wedding colors -- pink and blue. I told my mom and she said those were her wedding colors too. I guess I am my mother's daughter.

21. I hope that I'm here when, at some point in the summer, there is no snow in the mountains.

22. I write really long blog posts.

23. My right arm is getting a bigger muscle than my left arm, because I work at ColdStone.

OK I think that's enough. Is anyone still reading?? I'd be very impressed.

Gumption? Hullo?

When I went home for the summer, I spent a few days recovering from two long semesters and one very long flight from Utah to Maryland. Kelly and I set up camp on the couches in the living room, slept until noon, ate food and chatted all day, watched Ugly Betty and the Office until 4 in the morning, and occasionally looked for jobs online. But it was just a few days. This is perfectly normal for two healthy college students.

Unfortunately, my dad didn't see it that way. He tried anxiously to be patient with us at first. But then....okay, maybe a few days became two weeks, and he became concerned. I remember one morning in particular, at about 10:30, waking up to a familiar monologue. My dad was sitting by the couch, talking animatedly at me. He said all the usual things: "This isn't normal, Heather. I mean it." "You've got to get up, and get out there, and get a job." "Come on, sit up, come on." There were the occasional interjections: "Oh my pillow! Heather, Heather stop! You're drooling on my pillow!" As I opened my eyes and wiped my mouth, I vaguely remembered getting the same speech the day before, and the day before, and probably the day before that. But then, my dad said something new: "I've never seen you like this. It's like you've lost all your gumption."

Fast forward to this semester. Well, first -- fast forward to two weeks after this speech. I had one full time job, two part time jobs, and one very very part time job. Now, fast forward to this semester. It's probably been the hardest semester for me yet, where classes are concerned. I'm taking 16 credits, and, even though I've taken this many before, it wasn't this difficult. My classload this semester is full of classes that are much less interesting than my classes in previous semesters, and much more rigorous. In short, I don't want to learn about the things that are turning out to be more difficult to learn, making it even worse.

I started out with plenty of gumption. Winter break was a nice refresher for me. I went home, played with my family, visited some friends, and came back ready to tackle the new semester. I tried to be interested in my subjects. Most days, my classes don't start until 12, but I tried to get up at about 8 or 9 every morning to study and work on other things I needed to get done. I signed up to be a mentor at an elementary school. I got a job at ColdStone. I was overflowing with gumption!

Then, suddenly, something happened.....midterms. All of a sudden, school decided to hurt my feelings. Last week, I was slammed with five tests. I was also asked to give a talk on Sunday. As an FHE mom, I had to plan an activity for this Monday. Furthermore, my laptop was stolen on Tuesday, right out of my apartment. Oh, and the mailman told me he hates me and thinks I'm ugly.

I'll recover, I told myself. I can come back. There's still time before the semester is over. After one particularly bad test on Monday that might as well have been a list of derogatory comments on my appearance for how good it made me feel, I called my dad. He told me how pretty and intelligent I am, per my request. I felt better. I went to bed that night, determined to wake up the next morning at 7 to get ready for a group meeting for a project at 8. I knew, as I closed my eyes, that I would wake up to a better world. I woke up at 7:30. Hmmm. That wasn't really what I had planned to do, now was it? I hurriedly threw on some clothes and make up and miraculously made it to the bus stop in time for the 7:42 bus. I went to my group meeting, then to my floral design class, and then to the library for a nice nap in the fourth floor bathroom with all the couches. I went to my New Testament class, had lunch with Kelly, studied, and went home. I felt pretty good about how well I was recovering so far.

On Wednesday, I intended to wake up at 8 to give myself time to clean for cleaning checks, do my homework, and go to mentoring. I told Aimee and Chelsea both that I need to be up at least by 9, and if they would be so kind as to yell in my sleeping face if I wasn't, I would greatly appreciate it. They gladly obliged, but somehow, I didn't get out of bed until 9:30. By the time I had gotten ready and finished my homework and cleaning, it was too late to go to mentoring, and too early to go to campus. So of course, I decided to take a little nap before going to my first class. It was 11:41 when I woke up again, and I had missed the last bus until 12:12. I considered my options. It was a nice day, and I could walk to school. (I was sure I would be able to make it if someone gave me directions.) My other option was going back to sleep. Which option do you think I took?

I had to drag myself out of bed at 12:35 to get to the bus in time to get to my 1:00 English class. Chelsea reminded me that it was Saint Patrick's Day and picked out a green shirt for me to wear, so I sluggishly changed my outfit and stumbled out to the bus. From there, my day did improve. While on campus, I was very productive. When I went home, I was determined to continue in this streak of gumption.

Sadly, my natural me won, and I ended up at Kelly's apartment, making and eating cookies, chatting, and wandering Raintree with some boys who were considering moving in and had requested a tour. I went back to my apartment and spent about two hours on facebook and other time-wasting websites. I finally eeked out some homework at one in the morning and went to bed.

This morning, my 9:30 floral design class was cancelled (thank goodness). I planned to take the 10:42 bus to campus to work on some homework before my 12:00 New Testament class. I hope no one took the 10:42 bus hoping to see me there, because they would have been sorely disappointed to know that I was still in bed at that time. In fact, I was in bed until about 1:05. All I could think as I sat up and called out, "Hullo??" to my still-at-home roommates was:

Whelp. Guess it's gone again.

My gumption, that is. I really think it's gone. Today marks the second day in a row that I slept through my 12:00 class. HOW PATHETIC!

Tonight, I had quite a bit that I needed to get done. I made a To Do list and turned on Chelsea's laptop. (Since mine was stolen, my roommates have all been super-nice about letting me use theirs whenever I need to. It is making my life a lot easier!) Then, something that shouldn't be so surprising to me happened: I wasted more time. Chelsea came home right when I had started being productive and asked if Aimee and I would like to go see New Moon in the dollar theater. I did want to. It started at 10:05. I could finish my paper, go to New Moon, and get back in time to get to bed at a decent hour.

I didn't finish my paper by 9:40.

I went to New Moon.

How could I refuse? Aimee and Chelsea were ditching their boyfriends, and we were all wearing our respective boy's clothes. Furthermore, on the subject of clothes, Taylor Lautner doesn't wear many in this movie. I can look past Edward's pale chest and sadly lopsided nipples because of this fact alone: Taylor has 10 ab muscles. I counted. This was definitely an event I had to be apart of.

And now, here I am. It's almost 4 in the morning and I am blogging. Blogging.

Of course, I have had good intentions throughout this whole ordeal. Tomorrow, I plan on waking up at 9 and taking the 9:42 bus to campus. I will meet with my group from 10-11, work on my application for the Writing Fellows from 11-12, and go to class from 12-2. I will eat lunch with Kelly and then study until who knows when. We will see how well this plan works out, I suppose. If my gumption continues to be MIA, I really can't be held responsible for my lack of motivation.

Thankfully, I have at least been getting all my homework done. When I am actually awake, I do my assignments. I just did one before writing this blog, in fact...a writeup for my humanities class. The assignment was to pick 3 sins and assign creative punishments to those who commit them, in the style of Dante. Here's what I came up with:

Sin #1: drawing graffiti. People who do this would have to spend eternity trying to graffiti a building while someone bumps their elbow every 2 seconds, messing them up repeatedly. If they get frustrated, someone else will spray spray paint in their face.

Sin #2: stealing a college student's laptop. People who do this would be shrunk down and put inside a laptop keyboard while the college student they stole from types out their term paper.

Sin #3: flirting with missionaries. People who flirt with missionaries would be sentenced to the nunnery. They would spend eternity in a convent, getting smacked across the face every time their thoughts drifted to boys. Also, all the girls whose missionaries ended up marrying a girl who flirted with him while on his mission would flick rubber bands at the flirting girls.

I think those are pretty appropriate punishments. I can't say I've been personally affected by graffiti, but I feel a much stronger connection to the other two sins.

Let's talk about sin #3 for a minute. (I mean, why not. Four hours of sleep is totally enough to function on.) I have seen a growing trend recently that bothers me quite a bit. It's called, missionaries marrying girls they met on their mission. In every case, they will insist that they didn't do anything wrong. There was no flirting while they were on the mission. Things just turned out the way that they did. They were perfect for each other. The circumstances that they met under are inconsequential, since they didn't start dating until after the mission was over. And who am I to say that this isn't the truth for every one of these couples? I really can't. I'm just saying, it's a growing trend. And as someone who sent off a missionary, even if I'm not waiting for him, I am annoyed by it.

Believe me, I understand the appeal of missionaries. As 19 to 21-year-old boys, they are right about my age. Typically, they are good boys, in tune with the Spirit, happy to serve others, good at talking to people, hard workers. They walk around or ride their bikes a lot, so they're probably pretty fit. They keep their hair a respectable length and never look too scruffy or unkempt. And there's two of them.

So, that's great that you didn't flirt with him. That's awesome that you just really connected over the scriptures. Good for you abiding by mission rules as you purely lusted after the cutie with the name tag.

But if all those things are true, then why the hey are you two getting engaged three weeks after he's released?

This is why I included flirting with missionaries as one of my sins.

Well, I guess I'm going to bed now. Wish me luck in waking up tomorrow?