Reality

A little bit ago my good friend Blake wrote a blog post about expectations vs. reality. He referenced the following clip:

Expectations vs Reality from sleeptalker on Vimeo.

A of all, it's the best part of the movie. B of all, why the heck do I do this to myself?

I think that it's important to note here that I'm in a decent state of mind (this is not some depressed low that I'm going off on) and that I have had a pretty great day, hanging out with Rochelle and her family. Now, continuing on.

There's this boy. And two years ago we went on a few dates and I really liked him. And I mean really, really liked him. A lot. And I had all these hopes and expectations (for me, the two kind of go hand in hand). Now, two years later after nothing happened and I... seem to have never gotten over him. And then we ran into each other a week ago and it wasn't the awkward situation I had pictured. But since then I've been going on with this hope that maybe, just maybe, there was a chance. Like after two years he would have realized that I am freaking awesome. But the reality of the situation is that he didn't want me two years ago and he most likely doesn't want me now. See what I did there? "Most likely." Like I'm giving myself a bit of room for the hope still.

Note to self: He doesn't want me now.

Now let's move on. Let's realize that he's a freaking awesome person who I would like to get to know better and who could maybe one day be a good friend. But where it stands right now I probably like the idea of him more than I do the actual him. Let's put it aside and move on.

Now that that's been addressed I feel like I can freely say that it is really hot in my apartment. Like at least 10 degrees hotter than it is outside at all times. The end.

Passing By

Today on my walk to work I was filled with joy by three things I saw:

1. The group of five kids running up 9th East that kindly said hello to me as they passed by.
2. The Asian guy at the Creamery with a cart full of at least 5 ginormous things of toilet paper and two glass bottle orange sodas. He then proceeded to shove these packages of toilet paper into his car. Why was it so funny? No idea. Probably because who needs that much toilet paper at one time? Is the deal really that good? Does he wipe his bum with tons of paper at a time to warrant that much?
3. A guy riding his bike to school. Why was this excellent? Because it was a tandem bike, and he was the only one on it.

In other news, be still my soul. Stop hoping so much.

:)

Dear Dad

Dear Dad,

Yesterday I went with some friends up the canyon and we played in the water and spent some time looking through the rocks that littered the bottom of the stream. I was rock hunting. And it reminded me of when I was little and our family would go to the beach and I would run around the sand looking for cool rocks to show you because you had all these books about rocks in the house and I wanted to impress you with my finds. I remembered us hiking up some mountains and not looking out at the scenery as much as looking at the ground together for awesome rocks. I'm sure the rocks were nothing special but looking back those moments were. Even if my friends laugh at me when I explain that when I was little I went rock hunting with my dad... on the beach (why didn't we look for shells?).

Anyway, these days I think more about those times we went rock hunting than those times we would have those awful house clean ups or those times when we would aggravate you so much that we would come home early from our camping trip.

Happy Father's Day, Dad! Hopefully one day we'll go rock hunting together again. And hopefully one day I'll have a daughter that you can take with you, too.

Love,
Jessica

One of Those Days

You know those days where everything goes right? Where you snooze way too long in the morning, water your garden and prepare a CD craft project to keep the birds away from your strawberries? One of those days where you realize that you have not two, but four baby pea pods growing as well as noticing that one of your Anaheim peppers has finally decided to turn from a blossom into a baby pepper? When you are so proud of your pea plants because their little vines are finally attaching to the handmade, rickety trellis made out of sticks and branches? Where you get a surprise visit from a friend and her baby that has gotten chubby overnight? When the weather is just perfect enough that with the windows open there is a nice breeze in your apartment that leaves you feeling comfortable? How about when your crazy, wacky friend Levi calls you out of the blue to go to Utah Lake and after a lot of discussion from the party members involved you end up going to a park up the canyon to tan, eat snacks and play in the freezing cold stream? When you have not one, but two great conversations about life and the gospel in one day? When they have your new favorite froyo flavor at Spoon it Up? When you spent the whole day walking around a park wearing your swimsuit without a tshirt over it and even though you were worried that your breast would fall out of the halter top the whole time you were actually not self conscious about what you were looking like? When you feel like you're walking in an Amazon jungle and really, you're just up simple Provo Canyon at your very favorite campfire spot? Those days when the large amount of bugs crawling on you doesn't even faze you? And you make and eat one of the simplest and most delicious stir fry dishes ever? When you feel safe and secure and loved and warm all at once, all day long? When you were so busy and lazy that you didn't even take a shower and yet went into public without even feeling gross?

Yup. That was today. And it was the best day ever.

Work

Sometimes I really struggle getting through the day at work. Especially if it's slow, boring or EFY is getting demanding. Here are a few things that help out:

Snacks (I'm almost constantly eating trail mix, string cheese, a banana, etc.)
Google Chat (If I ever start to loose it, Claire saves the day)
Grooveshark (Ellie Goulding to the rescue)
Lip balm/lotion (application takes the boredom away for a minute)
Water bottle (I always have it right in front of me, even if I'm just resting my chin on it)
The bathroom (see above)

Also, I'm having this affinity for Saturday mornings. They're great! Especially if Bountiful Baskets or doughnuts are involved. Also, I'm really tempted to go to the Habitat for Humanity ReStore and make a table out of a door or something cool like that. Yeah.

Callings

I just got a new calling. And I'm not too thrilled about it.

I'm a Relief Society greeter. First off, I hate feeling like I'm getting a calling just to have a calling. I hate committees. I hate things like Relief Society table decorator (luckily I have never done that...). But my callings have always made me feel like if I just didn't show up on Sunday that no one would notice.

So let's get into the logistics of this calling. When the counselor told me that I was going to be a greeter I almost cried. He explained that there are lots of women that sit in the back of the room and have no friends. Or that sit alone during Sacrament meeting and then leave. They figure it's because they don't feel welcome in Relief Society. Okay. Whatever. But I am the girl that sits alone in the back of the room. And I like sitting in the back. And I'd rather sit in the back alone than have a girl I don't know ask me to sit with her closer to the front. Also, I hate talking to strangers. And as part of my calling I'm supposed to go around and get to know the girls and sit with the loners. Why does it have to be so hard? And I have a roommate that does this on her own every single week and I think she would be perfect for it. I just feel inadequate. And lame. And I hate that I might make girls feel like I'm trying to be their friend because it's my calling.

The weird thing is that when I've told people they've mentioned that they think it's a perfect calling for me. What the heck? Going up alone and talking to strangers? Not my thing. Have you seen me ever do that at a party or something? No. I won't even go to a party if I won't know someone besides the host there.

In other news, I've recently discovered that I kind of like carrot sticks. I know, right? But they're kind of sweet. And crunchy/crispy. They snap. I've never liked carrots. And now I do. I'm also really enjoying the peaches from my Bountiful Basket this week. Also, I spent a good chunk of Saturday afternoon picknicking and chatting with Blake in his awesome backyard. A large result of that outing? Me not being able to stop thinking about a certain young man. Not Blake. Someone else. And I hate thinking about it because... well, things just don't work out the way you'd like, ya know? And I talked to Hayley on the phone last night! I've been wanting to call them but I figured they're really busy. But she called! I was so excited to hear all about what's going on for them in Charlotte. I love those two.

A Personal Vendetta

I have a personal vendetta. Against birds. It has been said that the early bird gets the worm, but it has yet to be said that the late bird gets the strawberry.

Freaking birds.

So my garden is doing lovely, for the most part. The marigolds and the cantaloupe have expired, but the rest is doing quite well. The strawberries are producing and they are lovely looking. Until the birds get to them. A week ago I noticed that my strawberries would start to turn pink and then all of a sudden half of them would be eaten. So I made a scarecrow. Out of a wooden angel that Boyd and Hayley gave me and a stick. I thought it worked. I even saw more pink berries pop up.

And then today I noticed that they were again gone, pecked at by some rude bird. What did I ever do to you, birds? Dost thou not remember how hard I would try to make sure your nests weren't knocked down in Helaman?

I hate you. Birds.

Bread

Boyd and Hayley have now been in Charlotte for a week. I think I previously mentioned that I inherited some of their belongings prior to this move of their's. Does it make things a little easier? No. Not really. For example, it took me and my roommate a good ten minutes to figure out how to put the pan in the bread maker but due to time zones and such I didn't call to ask. Anyway.

Boyd and Hayley are practically psychic. They left me their bread maker, rice cooker, three fans and some board games. Last night it was sweltering in my apartment. I'm not even kidding. We put the fans to good use and put one in each bedroom. We found out this morning that, although loud, the swamp cooler does work, but only in the living room. But last night it was so hot that I went to sleep with only a sheet on top of me, window wide open, fan a foot from my body on full blast, wearing a tank top and shorts. I almost went without the shorts, let's be honest.

Last night I also broke out the bread machine for the first time. I made a garlic rosemary loaf, and I used rosemary from my little herb garden. It was so exciting! Amber, Shelby and I sat at the table and ate just about the entire thing in one sitting. It was delicious. This is not a joke or an exaggeration. In fact, it was so good that tonight I've got bread in the machine once more and when I get out of the shower tomorrow I will take out my fresh loaf of apple pie bread. I know. Delicious. But bottom line is that I am in love with this bread machine. Who ever thought that they were so amazing? Love it.

But I had another moment of weakness tonight. Sometimes I think that I am doing really well and other times... I suck. Recently (I don't know if a person said it or if I read it in a book or what) I heard the advice that there's no reason for me to freak out about marriage because I'm 22 and I'm going to live AT LEAST another 50 years and eternity is a lot longer than that. Waiting for the right one will be worth it, right? But here's the thing. I really struggle with putting myself out there. Not only does it take every single fiber of my being to flirt with the cute boy sitting next to me at a wedding, but it takes just as much energy and gumption for me to go downstairs for ward prayer, or to sum up the courage to go to the ward break the fast or FHE. And let's not even mention how badly I want to go to the boys' next door for their Monday night symposiums. But it is really hard for me. I sit at these things and I try to make small talk and I feel like a fool. It zaps every ounce of energy to sit there and find something to talk about. And I feel like what we talk about are surface things or things that I'm not at all interested in. Oh, your experiences surfing? Don't care. How many different Roscoe's Chicken and Waffles establishments you have been to? Stop bragging. And I know that the last thing that boys want me to talk about at these things are my feminist ideals, my garden or my desire to be a doctor. They just don't get it. Granted, most women don't get it, either. But it's miserable to be this girl who has bitten too much off to chew.

Saturday night one of my roommates went on a date. This weekend two different roommates have dates. Seriously? In two weeks 3 of the 5 of us will go on dates. And I am no closer to interesting a guy in the ward to go out with me than I was 6 weeks ago. It's just discouraging. And I love my roommates, can we not get that across? 3 of them have served missions and are freaking awesome and I think that they deserve the best (and I want to hang out with them). But I am also easily moved to jealousy. Have I not been to (most of) the same ward events? Have I not sat with them and tried to chat people up? I suck at this.

So tonight, as I peeled and diced the apples for my bread I thought about how everything that I am learning is going to waste. Here I am gardening and baking bread, studying for the MCAT, learning furniture painting techniques online and owning a pretty good start up library in my living room and at this point it doesn't look like it will be benefiting anyone in the near distant future. Shelby talked about how every single night her mom would turn the bread machine on so they could have fresh bread in the morning. Not that I want to do that all the time, but my talents are going to waste. I imagine those four future babies sitting up there in Heaven watching me and thinking "gee, Mom sure is pretty awesome but at the rate she's going we're going to meet her in the Celestial Kingdom".

And then I wonder... maybe I should advertise myself? Does that come across as too desperate? Am I even desperate? Because sometimes I think that I'm really lucky that I don't date because I'm not distracted from the MCAT and I'll be able to go to medical school (provided I get in) anywhere I want without consulting another who's life it would effect. But... then I think that I will not be lucky to have to move all the way across the country to a place I know nothing about and live in an apartment, without a husband.

Are you sick of my pity party musings yet? I sure am. But maybe at my next ward event I can bat my eyelashes and pretend that I have zero aspiration in life and that the most fascinating thing I have ever heard is currently coming out of a young man's mouth. I will experiment and report on my findings.

Walking to Work

I typically walk to work. On occasion a friend has given me a ride when it's raining or when I woke up really late. Some days I really hate these walks. Like, the Creamery on 9th and Blake Fisher's house are kind of my half way point, and before I get there I'm in a bad mood because I'm hating the walk so much. But other days are really good. Friday was set to be a really good day to walk to work.

I left my apartment on time (or around there) and started walking. The weather was good. The sun was shining. The mountains were lovely. The rose bush I walk past every day looked like it was bursting wanting to bloom. I saw a bird with a worm in its beak, which always reminds me of "the early bird catches the worm" and makes me feel like I'm doing something right with my life because I'm early enough to see the bird with the worm.

And then, while walking up toward the Promenade townhouses, I spotted a cat lying in the grass on the side of the side walk. It was black and white. My first instinct was excitement! I should run up and pet said cat! I love animals! My second thought was... maybe it's rabid. It might attack me. I shouldn't even be walking near it. As I came upon it I looked more closely. It seemed stiff. Then I walked by and turned to look at it. It's mouth was wide open, as were it's eyes, as if frozen in terror. The cat was dead.

I was shocked and stunned. I was distressed! How could it be such a lovely morning and yet I happened upon a dead, stiff cat! The cruelty! I didn't breathe for at least 7 seconds. I continued on my way.

And yes, every time I go up or down 9th East I look at Blake Fisher's house to see if he might happen to be in the yard. Once, as I drove by, I saw him leaning upon his car Petey. Another time I drove by really quickly and saw Evan Moss sitting outside in a lawn chair, perhaps he was reading. Or perhaps he was thinking about Annette. Probably both. Who could blame him? There's a barbecue at their place this Saturday, and I'm really excited to see them!