if, ands, and butts

Hello Monday-ers, 

How are you feeling on this snowiest of mornings. 

(based on the assumption that you all are stuck in some sort of frozen hell like I am). 

It has been some time since I have written last. 

I couldn't decide which direction I wanted to go. 

I also have been buried in a homework dog-pile. 

9 hours later and 79% and you get one angry T. 

heres to graduation in a year, 

and one more week until hopefully some of my questions are answered. 

T. 

Paper linked chains.

I would like to think that I am a patient person. 

But, then again I live in a fantastic fantasy world that doesn't really align with reality. 

T's guide to anticipation. 

Diet Coke: Drinking copious amounts of this sweet nectar of the gods is my daily treat. 

Sweet, sweet meoldies: 

This was shown to me by a friend, and I fell in love. You will too, I'm sure of it. SING TO ME! 

Online Shopping: It is a general belief that poor college students shouldn't shop, but whoever invented online shopping is a genius. Thank you kind sir (I'm sure you were a man, woman would never be so masochistic) 

Manic Mondays: My computer makes this darling little noise when I receive a new email, if I could make this noise my ring tone I would. Although, I don't think it would have quite the same effect as what I receive when this charming *ding* sings. 

G: Oh G, you are my highlight. Phone conversations never seem mundane. 

Working out: "Push it, push it real good" -- Great workout theme song. I am seriously contemplating giving birth to this song when the day comes that I choose to spawn. 

Endorphins make you happy, and happy people just don't shoot their husbands. All the more reason to get on the treadmill, no? 

Forget homework, lets do anything but. 

Here is to another day of anxiously awaiting, 

T. 

P.S. I have recently started a couple other blogs in my infinite boredom. 

One for a class, and one to fully disclose my closet. 

Filterless Fashion-- My closet, and my bod. 

Mormonism-- My religion. 

Map this.

Hello my Monday-ers! 

Monday and I have a strange relationship. 

We spend our day together. Come Tuesday we part ways. 

But, then Sunday night around 11:59 PM we resign our differences and agree to another day. 

We're on-again, off-again. 

What can I say? 

I love the challenges of a new week. 

Down to business. 

Ever been in a rut? 

Cant seem to get out? 

That point that is so deterring where I am stuck between a hard place and one that is absolutely impossible. 

Where to go? 

I need a map. 

One that has all the points plotted, and the destinations that I love and would want to see marked in bright pink -- like really bright pink. It  would seem more fun that way. 

One that has music that will speak to my soul at the exact point that I need it. 

Like that show with Orlando Bloom and Kirsten Dunst, what is that movie called again? 

Now that was the perfect map. 

Maybe one with all the stores and thrifty places that would have what I love and at the perfect price for a starving student. 

Places to eat that G and I would stop at, and talk for hours.

 Trials and difficulties marked in bright-red with little caution triangles around them. Warning you to prepare yourself. Life-lines of the people who would help and strengthen would be conveniently be placed directly by them 

It would have the destination with estimated time of arrival like Mapquest. 

Trust me I have tried to Mapquest my final destination to no avail.  

So what keeps you going without a map? 

The adventure. 

Spontaneity. 

Awkward hilarious moments

Awesome moments

Family

True friends, not the ones that are pretend and superficial. 

God

Inspired words

Shopping. 

And this guy, and those like him. 

Putting smiles on faces since 2010. 

Head up, compass out, and feet on the ground 

(well kinda, I plan on conquering the world in heels so not my whole foot), 

T. 

A bad case of the...

We all hate Mondays, but we hang out here once a week.

Awkward: 

• Not realizing that the back of my shirt is untucked from my pants choosing to expose my bare back (*Gasp* at BYUI?) to all of the ladies and gentlemen behind me. 
• Accidently playing footsie with the five foot something male across from me in the library. He's definitely my type. Slice me off-a-piece-o-tha! 
• Runny noses that make it feel like your face is wet all over. 
• Trying to order food, and talking to my beloved G at the same time.
•  Sandwhich? No T, we are talking about Law Schools!
•  Law Schools? No, we don't serve that here sorry.
• Pants that may or may not be ripped on the belt loops from many years of yanking them up just to fit over my bottom. Also, a zipper that is very in tune with gravity and just wants to obey. X,Y,P,D,Q?

Awesome: 

• Getting a paper done way quicker than I had intended. 
• Only having 6 weeks left on my 2 year count down, and so very excited for it to be over. 
• Having classes down pat. 
• Third-Eye blind pandora radio station. Seriously the best I have found. 
• String cheese. I have been craving it like mad lately. Feeding Frenzy?
• The extended stay of the warm weather. Although, I am secretly dying inside to pull out the boots and trench coats. C'mon October
• President Utchdorf's address in the General Relief Society meeting. God loves you, do not be too hard on yourself, make good sacrifices for better rewards, be happy now, and the "why" of the Gospel . 
• Conference this weekend. Will I wait in line for tickets? I think that is a good idea. 
• My fantastic Family and our glorious days together this last weekend. 
• Marriage and the new formation of a family.

Where my parents were married.

T and G taking pictures of the Temple

O and all the youngins. 

G and G. 

My Cousin, B got married this past weekend. It was a family Affair

Here is to the rest of the week, T.

The fam damily

The Fam-Bam took a trip on the back roads to Santa Fe. 

This is what we saw.

Cherish the times together. 

Love eachother. 

Love yourself. 

"You Is Kind

You is Smart

You is Imprtant" - The Help.

Always, 

T. 

Love spelled backwards.

This is the story. 

K and I were at a youth event. 

I was 16 and K had just turned 17. 

In a wild game of some extreme version of kick ball I plowed him over. 

I took him out, all 6'1" 200 lbs of him and I tackled him.

Graceful, yes? 

Oh man did I have a crush. 

He was a senior, I was a junior. 

We had seminary together. 

I admired his strong shoulders and messy frock of hair from behind. I giggled nervously.  

He adopted the name of shoulders among me and my friends. 

That pair of shoulders was quite nice. 

I asked him out. 

Yup-- I had the gumption to ask him out first. 

I arranged a date right after thanksgiving that year and it was a disaster. 

Did I give up? Of course not. 

I asked him out again. 

I arranged balloons outside his house. 

 It was Winter formal.

I looked darling in a monochromatic fitted dress and bubblegum pink pumps. He wore a pink tie and looked dashing. He even got a haircut for the occasion. 

I honestly couldn't tell you what happened the rest of the night.

Then on February the 4th we became official. 

We spent all of the free time we could with one another. 

lots of: 

bowling. 

Movies. 

Hanging out at my house. 

His parents didn't like me much. 

He asked me to prom. We looked adorable. And we were in love. 

He graduated. And we spent the summer together. 

More in love than ever. 

Fall came and we split. 

He to Virginia and I stayed where I was.  

Eventually we broke up. Hearts broken, and hurtful things said. 

3 years later here I am. 

He left to serve a mission in California. 

He tracked me down. 

We write. long meaningful letters. 

He apologized and so did I. 

K gets back soon. 

What now? 

Friends? Oh I hope so. 

He was one of my bests. 

best everything. 

I guess in 9 weeks time will tell all. 

Or maybe his next letter will be more shocking than the last.

Still rocking the bubble gum pink shoes, 

T. 

Throwback

Vintage is in my friends.

The kind of vintage that screams taking it back to the 8th grade.

Side tied shirts were awesome. Braces? Even better.

Eyeliner was everywhere. Black eyes were sexy.

Myspace was everything.

Lunch table spots were prime real estate.

Baggy jeans were the bomb.

Saying the bomb was cool.

Back packs were supposed to hit the back of your knees.

Everyone had their little kid pudge on.

Likes, interests, love interests, and hobbies could be described based on the content of the locker door.

Before high school drama of who was dating who.

When it was taboo to let anyone know of you secret crush.

Before we could all date. Based on the assumption that everyone's parents wouldn't let them enter into the sacred practice until the ripe old age of 16.

When it was cool to "go out" even though you didn't actually GO anywhere.

When the junior high dance consisted of boys on one side and the ladies on the other.

Dancing was both hands on each other's shoulders.

Apart from that one daring-hot-shockingly cavalier dude that put his hands on her waste. You go-getter you!

Even more common was the girl being taller than the little man. He hasn't hit his growth spurt, alright?

When texting wasn't even alive and it was all notes being passed in lockers with boxes that were supposed to be checked.

Curfew was 10:00 PM.

Ah, the lack of responsibility when grades didnt even count.

Now its all,

15,16,17 credits more.

18,19,20 credits bore.

No boxes to be checked. Only text messages. Confirming dates. Who uses a phone anymore?

No taboo secret crushes (except for mine on Ryan Reynolds. Don't worry baby I'm comin' to get you!)

Touching is alright, even welcomed.

Eyeliner has been restrained, but everything else has exploded until the person underneath is unrecognizable. The beauty of foundation.

My mom lets me date.... sort of.

My low slung back pack has turned into a leather weekender bag appropriate for my Mac.

My vintage flavor jeans instead of being baggy Gap jeans have turned into vintage 1970's high wasted trouser jeans, appropriate for both work and play. Not exactly the most comfortable when they're riding up in the most uncomfortable of places... If you know what I mean.

Facebook is everything.

"Going out" is now dinner and an awkward activity intended to break the ice. Thank you, but I will take my pasta and bowling shoes to-go.

Instead of finding a good lot at the lunch tables in the cafeteria, its meeting an old friend at a restaurant to "catch up." We all know its gossip about the people we used to know.

Serious relationships take precedence.

My life cant be described on the content of my locker door, rather on the walls of my chic college apartment.

The men are taller. And they are "men" now.

Curfew is 12:00... well not much has changed there.

Those were the days, and well so are these days.

Kicking it oldschool for now,

T. (14 years old)

Dream interpretation while avoiding Freud

I had the strangest dream the other night.

First, before I explain the dream please realize that I tried to make every Freudian assumption I could and nothing dirty ever came of it. Trust me I tried.

There is nothing scandalous that can be derived from this dream. Sad? Yes.

Dream:

I am driving in my beautiful and sexy automobile.

Along side me a peacock is running beside me.

I am running from him.

When I finally rush into my house there is a knock at the door.

When i open the door there stands the peacock.

He speaks up and asks for his feathers back.

What the devil can this mean?

I told this dream to my mother and we sat in the car contemplating what it means.

She said that Peacocks symbolizes attitude, and the peacock was asking for its attitude back.

I am open to suggestions. G could be right I suppose.

With much attitude,

T.

The building with the golden guy at the top.

There was a point in my life a few weeks ago that my life and point of view changed.

I watched her walk out.

She was smiling, I was crying -- not because I was sad, but because I was so happy for her.

She was so happy for herself.

She was purely, unadulteratedly, simply happy.

My life changed.

I knew she was going to come out of that building a different person.

From that point on she had someone else attached to her, forever.

I was apart of this great love affair.

I had never really wanted to be bound to someone like that.

I had never felt the need for constant companionship, and I have only experienced companionship in short bursts of an excellerated pace.

I want that. Im not jealous of what she has, I am simply wanting that for myself.

I no longer think in the terms of just T.

I want to answer that guest card T+1, please.

I want to be a packaged deal.

a bundle.

eventually a group.

Life isn't just about me anymore. Its about what I will do to get what I want. What I need in order to be truly successful here on this earth.

I have suddenly become one of those girls that we all gossip about, mock secretly. Maybe they have more gumption and gusto than the rest of us. To be forward about what they want. They march forward with true conviction about their intents. I

am now that girl.

She changed me.

She motivated me to become that girl, and I then realized exactly what I am missing.

My other half.

On the prowl,

T.

I Like It When the Girls Stop by for the Summer

Some things are just too good to pass up or forget. Not even for a moment.

Friendships.

Best Friends.

Tan lines.

Water.

Tanning oil.

Laughs.

Red Bull.

Reisens.

Barefeet.

Swim Suits.

Wake surfing.

Summer.

You.

"Here comes the sun Little Darling,Little darling,

the smiles returning to the faces Little darling,

it seems like years since it's been here Here comes the sun,

here comes the sun and I say it's all right"

Changing desires and choices.

Living and learning,

T.

There is a Hidden Message About a Boy Who Loves a Girl.

M and I were in the car today.

Talking about wanting a man,

and not being wanted back in the same passion.

Are men really incapable of having that desire of wanting a woman? Or is it that desire only procured by the women that don't deserve it. The women that seem less than par.

In women, there is a point when that man, that individual, is what they physically want. Not sexually and crudely, but desire with their heart. Stomachs turn, and we are drawn to that person. Maybe its estrogen, but maybe not.

For me,

wanting someone makes perfect sense.

I have an intellectual connection that seems natural.

Personality is where it hits the homerun in the ninth inning for me. I'm a bit immature, but ultimately wise. If someone can understand and relate that's it.

I'm hooked.

That

"MMMMMMM"

DANGIT

DYNAMITE

feeling that is just uncomparable to anything else.

It wrenches at the gut, and kicks in the stomach.

It hurts so good, and eases the mind all at the same time.

I need that connection until they rip the romantic, love connection rug right out from under my feet.

How do I make that individual want me back?

How do I kick them back?

Make them feel exactly what they have put me through

Love potion NO.9? (if only)

Some women just have the finesse, and are able to make a man want them so badly they act like an idiot and they want that undeserving tart. I do not posses that gift.

Most of the time I'm glad, but this time its different.

I want you to want me. I need you to need me.

If only it were that simple,

T.

"Do you care if I don't know what to say?

Will you sleep at night? Will you Think of me?

Will I shake this off, pretend it's all okay?

There is someone out there who feels just like me.

Those notes you've wrote me

I've kept them all

I've given a lot of thought of how to write you back this fall

With every single letter in every single word

There will be a hidden message about a boy who loves a girl"

Hello twenty. Goodbye H.

I'm no longer a teenager.

Hello true adulthood.

Way to go T. Another year older. I am excited to report that you are a better person that you were last year. Older, wiser, smarter.

I think I finally have a grip on the filter between my brain and my mouth, I at least like to think so.

I also believe that age is softening me. I cry all the time. Its pathetic.

Im vastly more aware of the social and spiritual reprocussions of my actions, and I love it.

Plan for the 20's:

Get married

Start a family

Graduate from college

Graduate from grad school

See 10 new countries --

(one each year? That seems reasonable)

Be a better person than I was the day before.

Rule the world. Just kidding, kind of.

Pinky and the brain would be proud.

On another note--

2 years is a long time. A really long time.

Its hard enough to wait a week for something; letting the anticipation build, but two years seems ridiculous. How do people do this?

H, is leaving.

The things that he has said have had an enormous impact on my thoughts.

His birthday note to me was so sweet I giggled like a tween for an hour. Kind of embarassing, but I couldnt help it.

His adventure is going to be incredible.

2 years and the next ten will pass quickly im sure of it.

But not too quickly please. make sure to take advantage of it. Love yourself, love others, love experience. Never let your experiences be dull or not worth while. Make each day memorable. Take advantage of each expereince that is thrown your way.

Here's to a great twenty-frist year of life,

T.

Ifly.

Travel is a passion of mine
No correction.
Going to unfamiliar places is a passion of mine.

Recent Developments to hate the "traveling" part of travel.

1. What is so hard about getting a plane in on time? Here is my theory. They hired men to do a woman's job. Punctuality is not a prominent masculine trait. Air traffic control hired the wrong gender. Men are good at many things, organizing and getting things where they need to be when they need to be is just not one of them. Next time hire the chick.

2. Obesity is a shame. I am a complete advocate of being the person that God made you. But recent studies show that its a minuscule percentage of people that can trace their obesity back to genetics. Meaning its just your fault. Please buy two seats. I know I am cruel, but spending the duration of a flight crushed against the window while the man who is causing this current condition is talking about the audacity of some people to suggest that he purchase more than one seat because of his size has lead me to this conclusion. The phrase its not me its you really does apply here.

3. My bag never fits in the overhead compartment. My fault? Possibly. I just cannot travel without several options to choose from on a day to day basis. its jut not possible. I'm female, and over packing is inherit. Now that is genetic.

4. They charge $8 for chicken Cesar salad with no chicken, 4 croutons, and lettuce that had started to rust. boo..

5. I never get seated next to the more than eligible bachelors that are always seated behind me and on the other side of the aisle. They always are next to the working business woman who has her blackberry out the whole time. Who is that fun for? No one.

That is my air port/flying rant.

T.

Undone.

Imagine a ball of yarn.

An organized mess.

Easily tangled.

Easily unraveled.

Start at one end.

Push the ball and let it roll,

Unfolding and crinkling into weird shapes as it glides across the floor.

Decisions:

Not easily made.

The effects can be catastrophic.

They also can be wonderful.

Decisions often walk the tight rope of wonderful and terrible. Eventually falling to one side and staying there.

T is indecisive.

Always choosing and then going back on it.

It seems impossible to make an informed decision.

It also seems all too often the "answer" is to decide for myself. I will always find a way to be happy.

I haven't always made the right decisions, but I have also never made a drastically wrong decision either.

So where does that put me?

Somewhere between good and bad?

Between right and wrong?

My ball of yarn is an informed decision.

The unraveling is a breaking point. The climax, a new twist to the story.

How do I roll my ball of yarn back up into the organized mess that I had once created?

The eally important question is; Can I make a sweater afterward?

Up and down; Here and there,

T.

Orgin, al & tea

First rule of yoga simplified:

Offense is an inward decision.

A lack of understanding in one's self.

Understanding;

Miss T.

• Blunt

• Out spoken

• Responsible (most of the time)

• Desperately seeking to be original

• Dreamer

• Closet romantic.

When understanding myself do I understand why I get offended (when I do, which doesn't happen very often)?

Change. Someone pointing out changes I need to make. Or being offended by someone who has already made the change. Being drastically effected by something just happening rather than making the decision to make it happen.

On my second birthday I sat on the counter of my parents bathroom with a pair of scissors in my hand. Even though I would never admit publicly to committing such a crime to my mother, I remember it vividly. I recall knowing just how much trouble I would be in if i touched my long dark hair with the blade, but I took matters into my own hands and changed things myself. I made the decision to change something drastic in my two years of life. I placed the scissors right above my left ear and cut away. My mother soon rushed in stopping me, and rushed me to the salon the next day. She gave me a Dorthy Hamil cut that my father adored and tries to convince me to repeat 18 years later.

I took matters into my own hands.

Changed with out being changed upon.

Why take offense when I can take action?

Offended and Evolving,

T.