I don't like them.
(Titanic, Somewhere in Time, and Moulin Rouge don't count.... those are great films.)
So while this normally isn't a problem.... because normally when I put in a movie its to enjoy a good movie, not to cry.... it's bad when I want to cry.
SOLUTION!!! : Will Smith starred in a kick-a-freakin-good film...... that has a scene that WITHOUT FAIL.... I SOB during.
Ladies and Gentlemen... I present to you... the closest thing I have to a chick flick
My Birthday, The wonderful thing Paul did for a Lady at work, and Christmas so far.
I also want to blog about how so many people are miss using strong characterizing words, how much I secretly hate this time of year but I try an exhausting amount to like it, how much I wanna slap people who bring up marriage, or how much every single person over the last four-five days has bugged me as well as strongly hurt my feelings.
So I looked at a calendar.... yuuup. Here I am. Anyone else get worse symptoms during the winter? Or do I have full potential for this just to be me? I get angry cause "everyone is stupid" then I cry (literally... tears) because I don't believe that, so I resolve to be nicer to the next person I see........ then........ they open their mouths and there goes my goal.
March-October are NEVER this bad.
Source: Uploaded by user via Hillary on Pinterest
(really.... I'm stupid excited)
this guy:
is coming here:
On this day:
I'm at least this excited:
The only way it could be better is if it was This guy:
And I was going with This Girl:
I think I got it from mia mother. You see, she always wanted to be an actress, but never was, so instead Halloween was her day to shine. She could play the part of whatever role she wanted all day. I'm the same way. Cept with dance. Either way, Halloween is my day to be whatever I want to be.
I took it easy this year. Like... really easy. But as I drove home last night, I realized... I didn't hate "toning it down." I'll explain more in a bit, for now though, simply enjoy a few pictures.
This is the love of my life dressing up as a T-Rex.
Crazy how the two men I'm in love with (my little cousin and boyfriend) love dinosaurs. These are Paul's pumpkins.
Jurassic Park
Man Hanging
And his yearly "Jack"
Now here are mine! This was my first year doing a happy, normal Jack-Lantern Face
My yearly "sinnister" pumpkin
And the one I do EVERY year and think its hilarious every time....
"Pumpkin Pi"
Alright, back to what I was saying earlier, normally I dress up big time, and party like it's 1999. This year... I carved 5 pumpkins, wore a jazz jersey, ate soup, did Frightmares, went to my yearly Thriller dance production, and watched mildly scary movies throughout the whole month.
I didn't go to a million dance parties. I didn't go to a haunted house. I didn't watch a "pee your pants scary" movie. I didn't stay out till 2 am. I didn't spend 4 hours on a single pumpkin. I didn't have a crazy costume.
While I wish I would have gone dancing at least once, and I really should have been a ninja turtle again... I was strangely happy last night while I drove home from Paul's house. Maybe we're getting the hang of this "compromising" thing. Maybe I'm getting soft in my old age. Whatever it is... I had a calm, quite Halloween.
Boozer and Malone.
(Our sign says "Will Dunk for Millions)
Facebook is deleted and gone (until I reactivate by signing in again)
I decided to consider deleting it last night when I was asked by multiple people
"So what'd you do today?"
Uhhhh..... Wasted time on facebook??? Like... hours.
I never considered myself that person before. I had facebook to keep in contact with people and that was it. Till the past probably 2 months. The past two months I've spent more time on facebook than outside. I've gotten bugged by statuses, gossiped about relationship statuses, and annoyed that my boyfriend hasn't changed his profile picture.
I'm done.
I'm not that person.
I'll reactivate it when I get my life under control again.
See ya soon. If not... I'm sure you know my number.
My faithful readers:
For the past three weeks I've been dating a Grizzly Bear.
I've begged and begged him to grow a beard, and bi-golly he grew a mighty one. He complained multiple times about it being itchy, then I'd give him puppy dog eyes and say "please don't shave yet." Finally it became too much and he said he HAD TO SHAVE, so I struck a deal with him: One cute picture of us with the beard.
This is the best we could do with both being so tired today:
He's been a really good sport through the whole thing, so why wouldn't he be during the fun part? The shaving! So, for your entertainment I present to you: The Many Sides of Paul.
I call this look the "middle-aged-9to5-blue-collar-work-horse"
This next one is the "He-looks-creepy-but-is-actually-a-nice-guy" look.
Which, when paired with a blond girl, apparently looks like the "strange-couple-who-owns-a-day-care"
This is the "guy-that-makes-you-think-twice-about-going-clubbing." Or at least should.
...but his feelings are just so deep...
This is the guy you wanna punch in the face. He's the one who has full potential to be nice, but for some reason is just so overly proud in his soul patch that he's difficult to talk to.
But really...
......I'm gonna miss the Grizzly Bear.....
"Don't Spill the Beans"
We've all heard that phrase, many of us I'm sure have used it. I want to talk about it, if you want to listen, continue reading.
To get a flawless definition I decided to start this off by telling you that the Urban Dictionary defines "Spill the Beans" as:
1. To give something away; to tell secret information.
I want to focus on the "telling someone private information" part.
You don't always know how many "beans" someone has, but just know, if you have any, they probably have more than you would ever imagine. And as I've learned, the less you know about "bad, sad or hard" things in someones life, the more heart breaking stories they actually have.
Here is why I'm saying all this:
I have been around a few people in my life who will sit across from me and claim that I "do not understand." That there is no way someone like me could understand what their talking about. They will call me un-experienced, naive, and overly protected. Most of them, I'm assuming, base it on my smile, blonde hair, blue eyes, and CTR ring.
Moments like this most of the time roll off like nothing. I can walk away, almost feeling sorry for them. I find myself sarcastically thinking "that must be hard knowing everything about every one's life."
But every now and then I find myself attempting to keep the steam coming out of my ears hidden. I find myself fighting the urge to not simply "spill the beans" but grab the glass that they're in and throw the entire bottle at the person as hard as I can. A very anger filled way of saying:
"Let me show you how much I understand."
This question is one I ask on a regular basis. I expect people to have opinions on the music they listen to. I expect people to have passion, to some degree, to one of the greatest driving forces of our existence.
Yet, I have a hard time answering that question. I have a hard time Narrowing it down to simply five artists that I love. But, while having this conversation with a gentleman at work, I realized, I have 5 very distinct categories, with very specific artist under each. So, to my faithful readers, here it is.
My TOP FIVE.Each category is stated, explained, then the artists are listed in order of favorite within the group.
NUMB#R 1
THE GREATS:
These are the most influential artists of the 20th century. They "did it first." And quite frankly, did it best. These are the ones who understood who they were enough, to appeal to everyone, in every situation, in any mood, at least through one song. They are the writers of easily the greatest pieces of work during their rein. They are the owners of most of my "all time favorite songs."
They are:
Led Zeppelin.
The Beatles.
NUMB#R 2
THE CLASSICS:
These are the men that ignite the day dreams. That inspire the colorful wishes of "better." That make you disregard what is wrong, and change everything for good. These are they that your shaped your in-curable-ly-optimistic-grandmother. Even their saddest song can brighten your clouded skies.
They are:
Nat King Cole.
Tony Bennett
Ludwig Van Beethoven.
THE BEARDS:
These are the Shakespeare's with guitars. They are the men who are consumed with doubts, fears, and regrets. And at times, unspeakable joy. They miss "how it was supposed to be" and the "one that got away." They are realistically lost, and relate-ibly confused. They experienced their lives head on, not hiding from a single painful lesson, and reflected on it. They grown beards, write music, and touch hearts.
They are:
William Fitzsimmons
Damien Rice
Joe Purdy
Ray Lamontange
THE PUNK ROCKERS:
These are the guys that you blast in your car alone. They're who you turn to when your heart is racing, and your voice is aching to scream out. They remind you what your middle finger is for, that you're better off, and how to ask a question. They can write the perfect song for when your blood is boiling, or the sweetest song for when you're in love. They make you take a double look at your surroundings, while simultaneously helping you improve your sweet air guitar or dashboard drumming. They sing the saddest songs that make you rock, and cry the tender ones acoustically.
They are:
Motion City Soundtrack
Brand New
Fall Out Boy
Anberlin
A Thorn for Every Heart
NUMB#R 5
THE CURIOUS OBSESSION:
They are the ones you admit to owning all of their albums, only after present company has confessed to liking them. They are the ones you can't let go of, even when you know they have absolutely no true musical talent (that statement does not apply to all). You can't change the station while they're playing, yet change it as fast as you can as soon as the song is over. You can't get enough of them, when you can't stand most of their genre. You find yourself looking up, not just their music, but the latest blurbs about them on the Internet. They're the ones to put on your ipod while running, but won't turn it up loud enough for others to hear. They inspire the hair-brush-booty-shaking-lip-syncing-dancing-around-the-house moments of inexplicable joy. They are those that you can't explain the love, but just know you can't leave.
They are:
Britney Spears
Ace of Base
Garth Brooks
Journey
P. Diddy
Kelly Clarkson
I'm absolutely in love with the piano. and this is my newest favorite song.
I have a lot to say about this man. I'll write about him later. Right now... just enjoy my latest song purchase of his.
His name is Paul. (Paul Busk if you wanna facebook stalk him)
He isn't much short of my "knight in shinning armour" right now.
I'm gonna tell you a little bit about him now.
-He went to Bountiful High (I know, I know, it's still hard for me when I really think about it). -He served a full time two year mission in Bolivia. -He's Ringo in a Beatles cover band with his Father. -He's graduating with honors this December with a bachelors degree from Weber State University in Family Studies. -He doesn't like advice on school, unless he asks for it. -~WEBER IS A GREAT SCHOOL~- -He's going to be a Marriage and Family Therapist. -He is easily the most well liked person in his position at his job. -He loves J. Crew, the Gap, and Urban Outfitters (only the pants there though). -He likes candy. Mostly chocolate. -His favorite sport is Basketball. He "retires" about once a month. But... usually plays again. (Usually means always right here) -He has two sisters, who he adores. -He has a mother that he loves more than I think he has words for. -He has a father that is as quirky as they come, but has been the absolute perfect match for him. -He has an incredible knowledge and understanding of the Gospel of Jesus Christ.
Sounds great right? Yeah... but you still don't even know why I'm so crazy about him.
So. I'm now going to introduce you to the man I'm dating.
-He's the guy who remembers to grab a blanket before sitting down, because he knows I like to cuddle.
- He's the guy who picks up my favorite fruit to have with our dinner.
-He's the guy who has bought multiple soups and boxes of crackers to take care of a sick girlfriend.
- He's the guy who has never lied to me, even when he knows how hard the truth will be to hear.
-He's the guy who's held me while I've cried next to my mother's grave.-He's the one I watch Seinfeld, The Daily Show, and The Simpsons with.
-He's the one who notices my freckle under my left eye.
- He's the one who laughs because my jokes are so stupid he is shocked I even said them.
-He's the guy who doesn't just tell me I'm beautiful, but makes me feel it
-He's the one who knows finishes what he starts.
-He's the guy who knows (most the time) how to make decisions
-He's the one who reminds me of all that I want to be.
-He's the one that inspires me to be better.
-He's the guy who cries during Schindler's List.
-He's the guy who won't settle for less than the best.
-He's an incredible worker.
-He's the greatest thing to ever happen to the sinner.
-He's the one I've shared the most painful details of my life.
-He's the guy who listens to me complain, then makes me come with a plan to improve the situation.
-He's the guy who's going to be incredible at his career.
-He's the future Bishop of a Singles Ward.
-He's the guy I giggle with, cry with, argue with, and day dream with.
-He's the reason I own skinny jeans.
-He's my Best Friend.
-He's the guy who thinks kissing pictures are trashy (which they are a bit).-This is the guy that gives me butterflies.
-This is the man I'm in love with.
This.... is Paul Busk.
K that isn't true.
I did however go to Paris.
..... Also.... Not true.
What is true is Stacy and I are becoming really good friends and I really like having her back home.
Here it comes.
Scared? Naw.
Terrified I think is the word.
should be a great semester though. I love school.
Sometimes... you're just related to really great people. This is... one of my favorite cousins. Listen. Enjoy. Purchase on Itunes.
They're eggs.
I've had them for years (21years 7months and 28days actually). I don't seem to rotate through them, or get rid of any, but actually, add more to the collection. Every year there are more and more, and I find myself trying to figure out where to put them all. So I find random places to put them.
In bowls that were never meant to hold them.
On plates they sometimes roll off of.
Then the most extraordinarily wonderful peculiar thing happened...
I met someone with a basket.
Overly thrilled, Overly enthusiastic, and Overly eager, I gathered up all my eggs and threw them all in their basket... Agreeably too soon.
And of course, understandably, they became overwhelmed and dropped the basket. A few of my eggs cracked.
We agreed though, maybe I should just add the eggs one by one.
So that's what I began doing. Softly placing eggs in the basket, one by one, and sneaking in an extra one from time to time.
They've occasionally handed me back an egg and said "not yet," to which they've always come back, found the egg, and placed it in the basket themselves.
I only have a few of them left now. They're just sitting there, and I'm just staring them. I know they're not ready for these eggs. Just like I'm not ready.
Will they be though? Will I be?
What if I give these eggs in the basket, these last few eggs, what if I put them in there, the basket becomes too heavy........ and they drop them? All of them. Again. Only...this time they wouldn't crack.
They'd break.
So. Completely out of fear of the basket being dropped again, I've begun to put the last of them back in bowls, on tables, and in drawers.
Trying to decide whether I'm supposed to give the eggs, placing them gently in the basket.
keep them to myself... keep them sitting.
...Or let them take the eggs themselves...
