Social Suicide...My life.

Most people can't tell that I suffer from a silent disease called social anxiety. Reason's being that I can't stop talking in crowds, I no longer have a sweating problem, due to the chemical reaction caused by my nightly deodorant called "Certain Dry", and I rarely come off shy. The truth is I struggle with the fear of rejection and embarrassment in social situations everyday. I've tried my entire life to play this off and act chill. I'm sure most can relate with this anxiety. Have I been diagnosed? No, not yet. But I'm sure that my last social embarrassment was the catalyst for my new emotional and psychological struggle that is referred to as being a hermit with social anxiety. Agoraphobia is my future. Let me fill you in...

I made a new friend through another friend. Things were going great. She is fun and writes comedic poetry. What isn't there to love and adore, right! Before building this common ground most would call a friendship, I already had confused her a number of times with her teammate and fellow country woman. Names have never been my strong point. Always confusing the names with faces. This wasn't as embarrassing when talking to my friend I met them through. I would mix up their names and she would laugh. We would get a kick out of my stupidity every time. Who would have known that I would eventually be let loose around one of these two mystery characters on my own, flying solo socially has never been a safe situation for me. EVER. 

My fear of saying the wrong name was no longer limited to the scariest social setting of all, which is MY ultimate fear of praying aloud at dinner with quests.  As a kid we would have guest over for dinner all the time. Sometimes people I barely knew or long lost family members I didn't even recognize. This creates problems for a loud mouthed kid with tremendous social anxiety she is continually trying to over compensate for. Why my father thinks it's so funny to make me pray, I'll never understand. How embarrassing it is to pray to God and thank him for the company of a guest that isn't even at the table? Then again is it my fault their so forgettable? That's another way to look at it I guess... :) I'm an ass. 

Back to the story at hand. I was walking down the hall at school and saw my new friend of a friend. You know, one of the two I name confuse all the time. I sit down next to her. We start into a normal conversation. Typical communication between to people... small talk and what not. Then you have to realize my anxiety kicked in, I start telling her all my personal shit. What one might think of as an overload "get to know me". Happens all the time with me. I tend to feel a little uneasy and talk out of my ass about things people rather not know about me. If you've been a victim of this, this is my formal apology. SORRY. So during our two hours of talking people I knew had walked by and I introduced my new friend on many different occasions. It seemed fine. She was smiling we were having a good time. Seemed like a success for my first time solo with my new friend. WRONG!

The next morning I was enjoying a shower and washing my pre mullet hair, when I realized! I had called her by the wrong name the entire time. Two hours of jokes, conversations, confessions and introductions. The wrong name leaving my lips every time. No one corrected me. No one gave any sort of hint of my stupidity. I went on for two hours digging myself deeper into social depression and closer to the edge of social suicide. I'd like to apologize to my new friend and anyone who is at all affiliated with me. If you don't see me around for a while, don't fret. Just google hermit or agoraphobia. My picture should come up briefly. My life. Dammit.

Facing Changes.

Before this past weekend I had a few conversations with friends about change. A friend even posted a blog on her ideas and perception of change. This made me reflect a lot on my life and go back and dig through my old blogs from previous years and find a blog I wrote right after my experience at BYU. Maybe it is human nature to deconstruct and try and understand the changes that take place in our lives. A good friend of mine was talking to me about the idea that all things happen for a reason. We both agreed and came to a truth between one another that we create a reason for why things happened, not that things happened for a reason. Choice and how we decide to react to our environment is immense to our outlook on change. Creating reasoning for the change in our life gives us hope and the ability to cope and understand. Change can incorporate almost every emotion, whether positive or negative. I know my blogs have been silly and they have been so fun to write and create funny ways of looking at my life, but sometimes I have a serious thought worth mentioning. Fact is that change is part of all our lives and it can't be avoided, even with our best efforts to dodge the cycles of change. 

When focusing on change this past week and hearing the President of my church speak on this exact subject, I reflected back on my blog that I wrote at a more black and white stage of my life. It's always good to reflect on a time when things made more sense. I wrote this when I was 21 years old and titled it "Change":

"Change. Isn't it crazy how change comes when you least expect it? You have goals and plans your whole life and think it's what you need and want, until BAM! It changes and what you were scared of turns out to be the best thing for you at that time in your life. But then there are things in your life that should never change, and when they do, you hurt. Especially when things change so easily. I guess what I'm trying to say is change is the craziest thing about life. It is inevitable and chaotic at times. I hope that somethings never change. God bless my family, friends and religion. For this epiphany has made me realize what is important. It's progressing and changing things for the better. Changing what I have control of. You can't change people and their hearts. You can't control politics in life when you don't have the power. Sometimes you can't hold onto friendships that aren't double sided. Change is needing to be made in my life. Living things you believe in so much that you defend them... living it to the fullest and progressing. Cleaning up things in your life that aren't what you need. Building a friendship that is always double sided. A friendship with God. Priorities. Change."

I'd like to thank my friends that inspire me and are always there for an "In Depth Talk". Even if it's not what I want to hear, especially at 3 in the A.M.. My friends that are aware of change and aren't scared to verbalize it. Honest friends that help me through my rough time and I through theirs. Double sided. My family. My sisters. My mom. Without them I'd be lost. Accepting and reasoning with change is essential for progression.

Time Traveling!

So it's been about two weeks since my last postage! My bad. For those of you who have been texting me and begging for me to write... Get over yourselves dammit. I'm busy too! I'm trying to cope with the move I've made in my life recently that has sent me three or four years back in time. 

Some of you know that I have moved back to "Happy Valley Utah". Yes, it's true... K you can stop laughing or maybe crying. Don't feel too bad for me, I'm doing good thankfully. It's a miracle for sure that I haven't called LDS family services and started my weekly sessions of therapy. Although I am back where I once started, it's been exceptionally fun with my friends here. The worst part of this move is that it feels like I have never left this city. It feels as though the last four years of my life had never really happened. Trips me out!

This time around I'm living with two of my favorite people and we are having as much fun as we possibly can. The only difference this time around is that we aren't playing for the BYU women's basketball team and we are actually happy. LOL. Damn BYU. It feels so good to be on the other team in this college town... The "I'M NOT A ZOOBIE (BYU student) TEAM"! I literally find out people attend BYU and I am turned off by them. Call it judgmental, but... O.K. so I have no excuse... I'm judgmental to no end! I hate BYU. 

Since I've been in Orem I've had some fun times, ONE worth documenting. This handsome boy I couldn't stop staring at all summer semester ;) and I decided to rent a movie and watch it at his new place. To my knowledge he had moved in the previous week. Why is the joke always on me? Is there some written rule that I don't know about where I always have to be the ass of a joke? Well... when we got there all he had moved in was his books (typical english major), T.V. and bed. All the essentials, right? That's what I thought at least! Well when we got there we ended up doing some heavy lifting. Moving the bed and T.V.. Typical, ask that college athlete over to help move stuff. My life! We not only had to move them, but realized that there was no outlet near the T.V. once we were finished. And they say, they as in the intellectual authorities and statistics, that English majors can organize and critically think. We proved that theory wrong! Low point for the both of us. So we put on our lifting belts and moved it around yet again. "Handsome" later in the night thanked me for moving in with him. He got me! Freaking witty sweet talkers always get me. LOL. Nicely played Juan.

While brushing my teeth before I laid my head down for bed I asked myself a series of questions... How'd I go from having to wait till I'm sixteen to date, then only group dating, finally single dating, always remembering never kiss on the first date to leave them wanting more...to then not only kissing on the first date, BUT moving in with someone on the first date!!! LOL. Life is crazy huh?!?!? For those of you who can't read sarcasm, especially my parental units... I didn't actually move in. JOKE. Put down the Bayer or generic brand asprin, you're not really having a heart attack, just laugh it off. It was one of the most fun date/hang outs I have ever been on/had. Did we ever decided what it was? LOL. Does anyone date anymore or is it just a hang out? We couldn't even decide. Shit.

Why Wait? I'm Procrastinating Now.

Today has been full of driving, class, frustrations with a creepy old mormon man who kept flirting with my roommate T.R.E., paying rent and sitting at my parents kitchen table thinking of every reason possible why I don't want to start packing my life up into boxes and move them past that imaginary safety line we jack-mormons call the point of the mountain. And just so you know, I'm still sitting at the kitchen table while I write this blog. Progression and goal setting is overrated tonight.

I've been thinking about different chapters in my life and how we close those chapters and open new one's. This past weekend I helped move a friend into an entirely new environment and city. P-town baby, or as most American's know it, PORTLAND. She was beginning a new chapter in her life and needed a support group to accomplish this page turn. We drove up to Portland and on the way we cried, we laughed and of course we ate a bunch of unhealthy cancer causing snacks and drinks. God bless the Rock Star Punch! My friend, against my better judgement, decided to enslave herself to another year of college basketball, even after my persuasive lecture on freedom and human rights and how she should take advantage of them. She STILL signed her life away to team drama, team rules and controlling coaching tactics that never work and only make coaches feel in power over their 18-22 year old players. When meeting her coach and finding out that he had heard about my background in the sport he asked, "So do you have any eligibility left?!?!?!" After I stared him down with disgust, hatred and almost retched at his ridiculous question. I gathered my nerve and said, "Yes, I do." It took ever muscle in my body to control my voice and body language. And knowing his next move was coming, I prepared myself for an ass kissing.  He then began kissing my ego's ass as suspected. Rolled out the red carpet. Told me I'm amazing. How I'd be such an addition to a program. Reminded me how far I'd go and I'd be a star. Told me playing basketball would solve world peace and feed the mouths of starving children in Africa... Okay so it wasn't that drastic, but every college athlete knows this door-to-door salesman bull shit routine that college coaches pull to prospective athletes. They make you believe that their product is the best and that your life will be changed with only 4 easy payments of 1 year of your life in solitary confinement to basketball. Knowing all the tricks and that no college coach is actually honest or trustworthy, I simply stated, "I don't want to play. I hate commitment and authority." With one step back and the natural fear of anarchy as a dictator, his mask changed from happy salesman to an I.R.S. worker with back up from your local police force. Our conversation and his interest in tooting my horn was over. So predictable. People continue to prove me right. Control freak coaches with no freaking souls. By the way I forgot to say to him, "GET MAYA HER BED FRAME AND DRAWERS OR WE'LL MEET AGAIN YA SHMUCK!!!"

While on and after this trip I reminded myself of the chapters in my life. Some chapters amazing and page turners, then others complete page fillers and awfully written. I always remember the people I've met that have had a huge impact on who I am and who I have become. Most for good and then those few people I like to call trials created by God as a sick inside joke I have yet to be invited into. One day I'll laugh I'm sure. But what I remembered most about moving my friend is... how much I hate moving!!! Now I'm back in Utah and have to pick up and pack up all my shit and move it from my parents basement and then into an apartment in Orem. I don't know what is worse ya'll, my parental units basement or Orem Utah's ideology. Although I have two of the best roommates anyone could ask for and we've been reunited miraculously after three years! This chapter of my life might be the most fun and awful experience of my life. Which could create some really entertaining blogs and memories. Stay tuned. I'll blog it. No worries. Go Thunderbirds!!!

RELATIONSHITS!!!

This summer has been a cluster of awful relationships. Is it just me, or does it seem that no one has good relationships anymore? No one is honest with their partner or themselves. Black and white does not exist, only gray. I'm so sick of getting caught up in all these games, not only in my relationships, but others. Dating in Utah is the biggest joke of all. This Blog is for all my girlfriends that are completely disgusted with the dating scene and how freaking twisted dating has become. 

To start things off, dating does not exist. Only few and far between actually ask girls out on dates. Instead our culture has taken the "hang out" to the next level and this has become the modern day dating ritual. We all know what it means now when someone says, "Wanna come over and watch a movie?", code phrase for, "wanna come over and make-out while a moving is playing in the background." (the worst is when you pick a movie you actually wanna watch, so frustrating) We are all guilty of this and I don't blame guys, because girls have created this dilemma too. We act completely awkward when guys ask us on a date. It shows interest and puts us on the spot to either show that we are interested by saying yes, or not showing interest by saying no and then becoming that bitch that no one will ask out in fear of rejection. And what mormon mom started the bull shit, "Never say no when a boy asks you out". For a culture that pushes the D.A.R.E. motto, "Just Say No" like it's a article of faith or 10 commandment, it's funny they push you to lead guys on by always saying yes. But then after you lead them on and they try to kiss you or touch you, you better SAY NO! How confusing does that make prom night for teenage girl's and boy's.

Dating makes things black and white. They ask us out and we know they are interested, and by asking us out they totally expose themselves as being interested in us. Our generations is so petrified of exposing our emotions to anyone, especially the opposite sex. Emotions show weakness or make us vulnerable. No one wants that anymore. Making gray situations is the easiest and most comfortable way to interact with who we are trying "hollar" at. This is a typical thought pattern: Come hang out... if we make-out cool, if we don't then at least you don't know that I wish we had made-out and I'm not embarrassed at the end of the night. Are you kidding me? You all know what I'm talking about. We all gotta keep that upper hand ya'll. We all do this, always avoiding the option to look sincere or whoop'd. 

The last boy I seriously dated never took me out. We had been friends for years and he must have thought we were past the "woo'in" stage. What a moron. It didn't help that he was too proud to work and didn't have a job. What's with the work ethic of men these days? Pathetic. How do boys expect us to be with them when they can't even show us they can take care of us or themselves? On another note, I understand boys don't do cute things for girls like bring them flowers, write poetry, or tell girls that they are beautiful... why because most girls make guys feel stupid for doing it. They make guys feel like that isn't masculine to be so sincere and thoughtful. But for those of us who are grateful for those small acts of kindness, thanks a lot boys! Keep that shit up. I had a boy tell me once, "I don't know if I should get you flowers because you'll probably make me feel stupid for doing it". Are you kidding me?!?! Just because I am athletic and assertive doesn't mean I don't like being treated like a girl! This is the same boy who gave me flowers on graduation day 5 years ago, and I STILL have those flowers. Just shows that just because you are kissing and rolling around on a couch with someone, doesn't mean you even know that person at all. LOOK DEEPER dip shits. 

Now for my final frustration with the dating scene. Is it the divorce rate or our culture that has turned dating into a "window shopping" mentality. Don't fall in love because you have a better chance keeping a relationship if it's ran more like a business. Do we both get something profitable out of this tangle of emotions or lack there of? We are no longer looking for love but forcing ourselves to love qualities and compatibilities instead of a person. We are shopping for convenience in our partners. The connection, attraction, friendship and LOVE is downplayed to whether they are beautiful to everyone else, they can cook, fix a car, tell a decent joke, make millions, hold a high calling or position in our churches or communities, they like the same athletic teams as you, vote for the same political party, or even down to the stupidest thing as color of eyes or hair. We've all created our "TYPE". It is my personal belief that having a "type" is just an illusion we create for ourselves to thin out the herd. I don't believe we really have a "type". We create an ideal person and we find the picture of love we've painted in that "type" of person. When do we let down our guard and really look for love and not go shopping for what we think is perfect for us? For those of you who are reading this and still have the opportunity to find what you really need and not what you are looking for. DO IT. Stop building a person up in your head. Let it come and don't deny what you feel because of what you've limited yourself too. Be honest.

 

Where's my Orange Wig, Red Nose, and BIG Shoes?

Summer session is finally over! Thank heavens because it has really been putting a damper on my blogging and social life. It's been over a week since I've written on my blog. How freaking lame, I know.

 I got my grades back and found that you CAN actually get a lower grade on a paper if your paper is too advanced for even the professor. My professor asked me at one point to dumb my research paper down. What the hell does that even mean? Everyone knows you are suppose to use the most credible and scholarly sources you can to give your paper value and credibility. Have you ever had a teacher or professor tell you, "The texts you are using are too advanced for your audience." Is it me or did he just say my paper was too advanced for him? Is it NOT a research paper for his class? He IS my audience. Is our educational system so inadequate that students are actually getting docked points and letter grades for challenging the teacher or professor to learn and comprehend along with their students. When it comes to grading, a teachers opinion becomes fact. Why is this? Because some other authority gave them this position as an authority and that gave their opinion credibility and value. Is it my fault as a student that a teacher rather be entertained in a paper than informed and challenged? Have I paid and attended school to learn how to entertain or to learn how to challenge myself and critical think? Once again I am more valuable as a clown than a free thinker. I am disgruntled. The educational system is flawed. I'm over it. It's dead to me.

I should not be doing this. So little time!

I have been twitching like an drug addict since my last blog entry. I really do not know if there is a cure for this blogging disease. Right after I post a blog, I start thinking and begin creating my next. It's really annoying when you live your life deconstructing every situation in story form and whenever something funny happens you mentally note, "Blog that shit Chelsea." A little memo to self never hurt right? It's funny because I have been running into random people and they all have discovered this blog and are reading and having friends and family read my blog too. I'm so happy that ya'll are entertained and supporting me in this. It's fun to have an audience with my writing. Thank you.

It's finals week and I really shouldn't be doing this, but I've come to a conclusion on my college experience, mainly the Dixie State portion and I have to write this while it's fresh. I was brought to this conclusion by the magic of this blog. Now some might know me personally and know that I have a "loose tongue" and a "vicious mouth". This meaning that I don't really filter what I say to others too much. Some people are absolutely entertained by this characteristic, I'm guessing why that is why you keep reading this blog. Now I have a lot of friends and I'm assuming a lot of enemies because of this too. It's really a love or hate characteristic. I guess when I was in sunday school as a child and they said, "treat others as you would like to be treated", I took that little diddle to the extreme. I treat other's with unfiltered, unedited honesty and I expect that back. I also think I was trained to be this way by my family, you have to really love yourself to make it through a dinner at the Robinson house. Teasing is inevitable. 

So while at Dixie State, my authorities continued to add and enforce futile rules on me in order to show me who had control. Now by the time you are 22 years old, calling your coach that is like 5 years older than you and unprofessional by her first name (everyone called her that, it's her NAME), missing a class here or there, or saying "NO" when they are making you dance or do the worm for the entertainment of other's, just seems like that should be my right as an adult. Right? Well it wasn't. Jumping through hoops and being a puppet should be the definition of a college athlete... so a clown pretty much. Only here to entertain and please. Tah-Duh! 

Anyways, while at Dixie State, I became a free thinker. How scary is that for an athletic department! I was not longer an "athlete", in the sense that I thought for myself and realized that all the rules and regulations being put on me were actually pointless tools for tyranny. My soul purpose was to shoot a ball and score, and they thought it necessary my entire life should be controlled for that purpose alone. Little extreme. I KNOW! Especially since shooting a stupid basketball doesn't mean crap in the big picture some people like to call LIFE! Getting to my point. When I was at Dixie I became a English major by default. The history degree I was promised never existed and wasn't going too. Isn't that an awesome way to start off a trust between player,coach and establishment. I was shoved into the English classes and told to make it work. I couldn't remember the last time I wrote a paper. Are you kidding me! (Not knowing that English was actually my niche and eventually finding out that I absolutely love it, ya'll got lucky, and for that I sincerely say thank you, mean it.) Do you think my oppressors knew that teaching me to critical think and write might be their worst solution for controlling me? That's just a simple fact, knowledge is power baby! If they ever took education seriously while they were in college they might have learned in their basic history class that you never give someone you are trying to oppress simple reading and writing tools. That's just stupid. It's just gonna bite you in your fat ass down the road when you are overthrown and beheaded. Eventually my free thinking and assertiveness was tagged as my down fall and I was kicked off the team for freedom of speech... or in their defense, they might call it anarchy. It's a strange feeling, being feared for your securities. (It wasn't completely my mouth, I know I was still 2 credits short of eligibility because ya'll can't count my progress towards a degree worth shit, don't worry I'll take the fall to cover your ass, I'm a good friend) This blog was written because after continually hearing through many grapevines and gossip circles, I have found that it has been said, "Chelsea's mouth is her worst enemy." All I can say to that, is thanks for empowering me with the pen! Cause my speech and discourse are not an enemy, but my greatest tool! Thank you for that, mean it!

Apologies, Road Trips, Beaches and Boys.

First, and foremost, Sorry for the delay in blogging. For some reason everyone in California blocks their wireless internet. "Free" truly does not exist in the "Golden" state. My apologies to all you yuppies who actually read my blog. God bless you.

God has always given me alternative birth controls throughout my life. The first being my amazing set of teeth, or lack thereof. Second, no patience. Third, my "awkward" looking stage was during my three years of High School, making dating a mythical concept to me. Then last but not least, every child I get stuck in a car with or come in contact with has the dreaded A.D.H.D. and screams at a volume only dogs can hear. 

Thursday morning I was surprised by the family and packed into my sister's Honda Civic with her and her two children. Now I love my niece and nephew, but home girl here can't take repetitive noises, a consistent rhythm of kicking in the back of her chair, and screaming. Ten hours in a car with no silence can send anyone into rage or insanity. I don't know how my sister's do it, motherhood that is. Kids seem to be the most unpredictable creatures alive. The only thing you can predict is that they will eat, poop and cry. The most ironic part to my road trip was the night before I was thinking about how marriage and having children could be nearer in my future than I might be comfortable with, and for once it didn't seem like such a bad idea. I was really warming up the idea of getting serious about dating and growing up (my parents would be so proud). Then I woke up, I clicked my seat belt in, got on the fifteen, all so could be reminded that I am so HAPPY right were I am in life. SINGLE and WITHOUT CHILD.

While in California, I was excited to conform to the "beach" lifestyle. I feel like every time a "out-of-towner" goes to california, the beach is a must. It's like the idea that you have to hit up the beach when you are in california is beat into American's heads at birth. It's such a commercial scandal. It's made out to be this surreal paradise to everyone. So many people decorate their houses with beach looking crap and tropical fruit smelling fragrances. And I'm not talking about the people that actually live by a beach. No, no, I'm talking about your typical stay at home mom that lives in one of the square states. You know who I'm talking about right, we've all witnessed this madness? The pictures of waves, clean sandy beaches and sunsets over the ocean. Such a paradise you look at while you're in the comfort of your own home does not exist in Southern California ya'll. It is a myth. What they forget to intel in these illusions of paradise are things like the smell, the trash everywhere, shit loads upon shit loads of people, lack of available parking and the most annoying of all, THE SAND. It clenches to your skin and hides in every nook and cranny. If you are lucky enough to find parking before the sun goes down, count your blessings. And then curse the parking God when you are showering two weeks later and still have a pile of sand lining your drain.

While at the beach this trip, I took my comfort of nudity to a new level. Usually the occasional "mooning" and "flash" are my extreme. My most frequent and consistent victim being my poor mother. You'd think I'd let her catch a break after bathing and changing my diapers all those years. NAH! She always gives me a great reaction. My motto has always been, "Attention is a attention, positive or negative, it's still attention." Another nude experience worth mentioning, so you as my reader can grasp my comfort level nudity, are the three and a half years of college basketball I forced myself through against my better judgement as a human being. Coaches never expressed on any of my recruiting trips that team unity involved community bathing and openly being nude with your fellow teammates. Some suspicious characters might consider this team bonding activity a perk and others might see it as another moment to lose all your dignity. Either way you're conditioned to let it all hang out. Well at the beach, it is hard enough to squeeze into your bikini and not judge yourself, let alone lose your bottoms in a crashing wave. Finally, Chelsea Robinson blushes. This was my reality. Full frontal, cold sweats and a blushing face. Classic.

Now to wrap up my weekend trip, I have to mention my encounter with a certain fella at the pool in Las Vegas last night. As girls we tend to give boys all the power and the benefit of the doubt. Why? I don't know the answer to this phenomenon, but I am a victim of this too. So I'm in the pool with my sister and nephew enjoying the chilled water. (I forgot to mention our air conditioning broke while driving through Vegas. This is why I am in a pool in Vegas. And enjoying cold water.) I lock my eyes with this gentleman across the pool. He looks like he's about 30 years old, confident, relaxed and on the prowl for some Vegas memories. I proceed to leave the pool and sit in the hot tub alone. After locking eyes a couple times a boy might take this as flirting or and invitation to talk to me. What he doesn't know will hurt him, I'm not that smooth, I made contact while judging his loneliness and I was just freezing and wanted to strangle anyone who splashed water. The hot tub was my "out". I've learned it's just best to excuse myself in social situations like this, no one likes violence in family settings, cardinal rule or something. Well, my googler thinks I have "game" so he come and joins me in the hot tub. While climbing in, he set down his landing gear and eased in slowly. Eye contact was made, which makes this so much sweeter for an asshole like me, as he starts to submerge his body in the blistering water/urine. He failed to detect the air bubble gathering in and around his essentials. The air found an escape route through the top of his bathing suit and splashed his smooth ass in the face. His game was gone. He was exposed. I held  in my laughter and excused myself to enjoy his humility out loud with my sister in the other pool. Thank heavens for over confident men and the simple laws of physics.

A Night Out with the Girls and John.

Does John Mayer know what he looks like when he sings? Cause I do. Not pretty.

Yesterday started out just like any other day in the City of Salt. Wake up, initial thoughts, 1. When can I go back to bed again, 2. What should I eat today, and 3. Morning routine. This day was different though, being that I was with some of my girls and we spent the entire day entertaining and shootin' the shit together. We definitely stuffed our faces first and then saw the new Batman thrill, Dark Knight. I'm not gonna lie. I was extremely bothered. I don't know if it's this new philosophy class I am taking or the fact that I'm just starting to realize how much we don't think for ourselves in our culture, but why is it that as a society we can't accept the joker? This is because he paints his face and is what one might say, crazy as a shit house rat... but on the other hand we cheer on, support and are perfectly okay with the fact that a man dresses up like a Bat, has Daddy and Mommy issues, and has multiple personalities? That right there just goes to show how absolutely absurd our thought patterns can be. Both characters are absolutely insane and I'd go as far to say they believe halloween is everyday of the year. Can that shit be treated? 

Anyways... continuing the outline of my day. After the movie, we were influenced to go to a concert with friends. This was the John Mayer and Colbie (boring ass) Caillat concert. Not gonna lie, not a huge fan of either, but in this world of pleasing everyone but yourself, I took one for the team and went. $31.00 dollars I will never get over spending, in this lifetime or the next. 

We arrive and pop-a-squat on the grass to enjoy ourselves and the trendy music we can't even hear over the mass of people screaming the lyrics. Now to add to the literary effect of my blog you have to understand the group of people I am with. If you only knew my roster of friends, you would be absolutely jealous that you could not be part of this evening. I had some of my all-stars with me that night. Most random, funny and unique bunch I've thrown together yet. My friend, who does not live in Salt lake City and who will be mentioned as T.R.E. or 503 girl, actually said, "If you were to measure on a scale of 1-10 how jealous I am right now, I am a 13. I am spitting jealousy". Hopefully you can imagine how entertaining and fun this bundle of girls is from her statement alone. 

So back to the concert, we are enjoying ourselves and before we know it we are surrounded by some questionable individuals that some of us know from work or what we are going to call "play". Now we all have pasts and they seem to have the ability to haunt us. Most of our pasts are haunting because of the people who were in them. That is why when people tell me not to burn bridges, I respond saying, "Burn! I plan to blow that shit up." Why hold on to ties with people who are incapable of not pissing me off? Exactly. No reason. Then there are people who only know of our past or have seen us in our element in the past. These people, especially when under the influence of alcohol, love to bring up our past and insist on NOT using the 12 inch whisper rule, but are at megaphone status and screaming that information and trash for everyone to hear. One of my friends was the victim to this constant struggle of trying to burry her past and getting recognized and put on blast in front of hundreds of strangers. Absolutely entertaining, but oddly enough, not many of us our fans of losing face in public, but how fun is it to witness someone else being the victim of it!?!?! Although funny and humorous to my friends and I, immediate action was taken place to shut up the drunken accuser. That's what friends are for, to laugh at you for your misfortunes and embarrassments and then get pist and even with whoever made you embarrassed. It's a contradiction and a tornado of bipolar emotions, but instinct and complete normalcy to women. 

So getting to my point, it is so true that to every action there is a reaction. And we constantly are advertising who we are by our appearance, language, the people, situations and environments we use and put ourselves in. Our pasts are impossible to hide and our identity is exposed, sometimes at the most awkward of moments, for example the shitty concert. We do have choice to be who we are everyday, even if we can't burry what we were. I guess what I'm trying to say is people will throw us in categories because of our appearance and actions. The slightest thing about us that can be stereotyped is magnified and ends up defining who we are to the ignorant onlooker. So maybe we should do our hair differently, take out our piercing's, cover-up our tattoo's, stop talking like a sailor, change our style, make new friends or most importantly not go to club "Sound". Or maybe we should just sit back and laugh off false judgement or accusations. Life is too short to be embarrassed or worry about what other people think. Be "you". Unless "you" smell or have bad breath. Then you should be judged. Sorry.

Happy Ever After and Unavailable Men.

The past two weeks have been quite the journey. I started this blog, school has been crazy (especially since after four years of college I've started actually attending my classes, really helps your grades, it's not a myth, class is important.), and I've been to two wedding ceremonies. This isn't really a normal series of events for me. I'm mormon, so I'm usually not invited to the ceremony. Go ahead and make your assumptions why, but it's not because of any rad or rebellious reason. Some people find it ridiculous that mormon weddings aren't really general admission type events. I count it as a blessing. Why fight for the right to take more time effort out of your day, to celebrate someone else's happiness? I rather send them a card or something they'll end up re gifting a month later, then dress up, get patted down by security and have my rights read to me by my bishop a month or so prior to the hitching.

 Both weddings were completely unique in their own way and completely different from one another. I like the variety, because I have A.D.H.D.. And  One thing I can say they shared was the fact that real love is reached through friendship. I've had the opportunity to get to know both the bride and groom of the two weddings, they are not only in love, but they are best friends too. It's hard to understand love when you have never really felt it. I'm sort of a pessimist when it comes to love. The pure physical attraction, lust, the idea of love that is displayed through entertainment and the devaluing of sex, just doesn't seem to fit the requirements of what true love is after seeing these two couples. Sex and desires have consumed and molded our societies ideology of love.  The love shared between two friends is such a powerful thing and I was so happy I got to be part of their day when they made their vows. Way to prove me wrong ya'll. I don't admit that shit often so eat it up. 

One of the couples I mentioned has been through a long rough road of denying their feelings for the other, in the dating world we call it "playing games", and let's be honest that's the most exciting and entertaining part of most of our meaningless relationships. This road came to an abrupt stop when I started working with them this past year. The bride has been my friend for a couple of years and so reading her was pretty simple. She insisted she couldn't stand her future groom, I knew better and so I instigated and baited her to come to terms with her real feelings. How did I do this? Other than being very blunt and calling her names, I flirted and consistently tormented her with the idea that I was into her crush. So I began to flirt with this fella. This experiment to con my friend into going after her man actually turned me into "that girl". This became one of my favorite things to do, (oddly enough, because four months ago I was a magoo college basketball player that had no skills at all in the craft of flirting) cause flirting with the unavailable man is like practicing a sport, you work on your skills and attack strategies, but there is no way to really get rejected or fail cause practice has no final score or audience. It's a beautiful thing for the insecure girl to not have to worry about getting crushed by rejection. Then for instance, when you flirt with the available guy and there is the slightest chance of rejection or failure, then flirting is like reading in the car, it's good as long as the ride is smooth, but once you hit some bumps or twists and turns it is nauseating and makes you sick to your stomach. Absolutely awful feeling. I think doctors call it ANXIETY. I've noticed lately that I am "that girl", that girl that every girl hates, the girl that flirts with everyone. When I say everyone, I literally mean everyone. Professors, boss, co workers, classmates, boy, girl, man, woman, and even with myself via bathroom mirror every morning. Some say I lead people on, others say it's just my personality. I say, "I LOVE ATTENTION, PERIOD. END. PURE ATTENTION!" 

So seeing first hand that "love" might actually exist, makes flirting with unavailable men and even bigger defense mechanism. Why chance falling in love? Sound like a lot of work and stress to me. Hopefully one day someone will look at me that way when I walk down the aisle wearing a white dress, that should have been the down payment on our house or my black Lexus. But until then, unavailable men will reap my compliments, attention and affection. God bless the single life and lack of commitment. If you're emotionally unavailable... call me!

I Really Should Hang My "J's" up.

The magoo ref is SO on your team!

There are a few things we hate to admit as individuals. Things such as, when we are wrong, we are addicted to shitty reality T.V., we were Hansen super fans, and that God did in fact make the brand of our own farts tolerable out of mercy. Don't deny it, the jig is up. One thing I personally hate to admit is that I am playing recreational basketball. I swore to basketball God's that I would never convert to such chaos and violence. This sport should be in a category of its own, because there are only small similarities and glimpses of basketball within the sport of "recreational basketball". Pretty much the only similarity is the fact that they are both labeled "basketball".  

Getting back to my point, the entire setting is a nightmare. The gym is extremely hot and muggy, the smell, the people attracted and open to the idea of lacing up their "J's" and attempting to play again. It is just your average shit show. The most unbearable fact to admit about recreational basketball is that we are actually paying to have this experience. (Thank heaven's Kare bear, a.k.a. my mom, cut me a fat check to pay off my debts to Salt Lake City's Parks and Recreation cause home girl is broke) We are paying to go feel sorry about our skills that have diminished and died over the days, weeks, months and for the really misfortunate, even years! It is extremely frustrating and a shot to your ego to have a talent and then lose it. And by lose it I mean, never see that shit again. We are products that have lost their value to fun, independence, happiness, and snowboarding. :) No more coaches, suicides, discipline, physical and verbal harassment or diets! It's fantastic to give up something so time consuming to actually be fat and happy. Not everyone can see the plus side of being overweight like a college athlete. 

Now that I am done hating on the organized sport that is basketball. Let me tell you, the reader, about my recreational experience tonight. For those of you that know me, you know that I have always been a one side of the court kind of gal. Meaning that I only play offense and portions of defense, and I only play the "D" word when it is severely needed to win the ball game. Well tonight I played a little "D". To my surprise it was somewhat fulfilling and fun. The team we played tonight had some questionable souls suited up. Is it just me or are we going to have to change the rules and regulations for women's sports? Gender checks are becoming a MUST. I swear they were yelling "Jerry", not "Carrie". We might have to change the dress code to skirts so there is no questions asked. Anyways... "Jerry" or I mean, "Carrie" , the most questionable gal on their squad, ended up being my victim of the day. Since I decided to play a little defense, she unfortunately got a lot of shoves and elbows. Not knowing the strength of my own "shreik" like finger, I jammed it into her nose while attempting a routine swipe at the ball, hopefully hit you in your face maneuver. This move was taught at the ever so lovely Taylorsville High School. Go warriors! Holla! The whistle was blown, but to my amazement it wasn't for a foul, but for the fact that her face was bleeding excessively. DIRECT HIT! I sunk her battle ship. :) 

After a 5 to 10 minute break to stop her bleeding orifice, I decided there was probably a target on my back. I had hit at least 4 out of the 5 of their players and was not Miss Congeniality of the night, by any means. I felt bad for her... he seemed like a nice guy, I mean girl. 

We resumed play and to my surprise the victim of my facial didn't not attack me, but she closed lined my sis on a routine wide open left handed lay up. (Her favorite kind of lay up, she has a strange mental block and phobia of the right side. Odd, she's right handed) I ran to her side to protect her from a after shock kick to the face or maybe a slip of a cell phone number for an after party. Both equally painful and embarrassing. I picked my friend up and thanked her for taking the heat for my powerful pinky. SKADOOSH! Although I got out with no broken bones or bruises, another win under my belt, and the knowledge that my friend has got my back, even when a scary shim(she him) is flying at her like a squirrel, I still don't know if it's worth coming out of my comfortable and lazy retirement. Someone please sit me down and tell me to give it up! I'm old, abusive and don't stretch properly before games. Something bad is bound to happen via rec ball.

Pros and Cons to False Identification

Should I be offended or flattered?

Today has been an interesting day for me. After taking it upon myself to skip the gym yet again this morning (I've been avoiding it for probably two weeks), so I could force myself back to sleep at least seven times to avoid the start of a new day. I awoke, grabbed my ibook and checked my blog for new comments and/or commotion. Only to my surprise there were some new comments!!! Instantly my day was a success. My initial reaction to success is: take a nap or grab a coke. Both habits I am struggling to break. Pray for me. :) How pathetic, I know, that blog attention has consumed my opinion of my own self-worth. After chatting on the phone with 503 girl, (this activity is the usual morning routine these days), I called my favorite non-local friend to find out how we were going to spend her last full day in the city of salt. It's always an interesting conversation to listen in on when two completely indecisive people try to make plans for an afternoon. ANNOYING. I usually wouldn't consider myself indecisive, but when both parties are completely broke and annoyed, it's hard to get from point "A" to point "B". Finally, the one thing we both can agree on 365 days out of the year, FOOD. Lunch it is.

This lunch experience wasn't the first time I had been a victim to false identification. Most people would kill to be identified as something they are not. For example, getting past security at a bar or club with a fake I.D. that is clearly not you, being considered honest when a liar, having someone actually say you look like a celebrity (although while growing up my mom insisted on giving me this awful mushroom cut, I can still remember people saying I looked like Elijah Woods circa huckleberry Finn, gross), or receiving a label because of the friends you associate yourself with. We've all benefited and not benefited from these false assumptions. I'd like to invite you into my lunch experience and how I turned a slightly awkward and non-hopeful situation into a beneficial one.

Worm (my non-local friend) and I decide and agree on a place to eat. Our mutual friend claims this worthy establishment as her present work place. So... why not visit a friend and feed the beast all at the same time? Upon our surprise arrival, our waitress takes our drink orders and heads to the back to prepare Worm's ice tea and my Coca~Cola nectar. During this highly important lunch ritual of beverage preparation, our waitress proceeds to tell our mutual friend that she thinks we are of the tribe, homosexual. COMO?!?! What! Our friend has no idea this bi-curious co-worker of hers has tagged her dear friends with this label until she peeps her big blue eyes around the corner. WE'RE SPOTTED. Instant laughter. 

Knowing that this is not the first time this scenario has happened to me, (being that I have short hair and an athletic body that was formed during my nightmare I have named and filed as "college basketball") keep in mind I already know there are rules to this dance of sexual identification and the malfunction of the machine some claim to have installed in them called "gay-dare". The rules are usually one girl in the group gets the little red laser dot on her forehead. This girl is the butt of all jokes for the rest of the day amongst lunch friends. Today I was the prey to this game. It's simple really, a crush is formed and I have to react. Most crumble and panic at the thought of being labeled as something they are not. Questioning one's self and developing an insecurity is a natural reaction, but if one can set aside all social assumptions and judgments, a compliment is a compliment. Take it and run with it. Instead of playing a defensive position, why not play offensive. If college basketball taught me anything it is, Darwin is the smartest son of bitch out there and offense win's ball games. I instantly become an opportunist. I bat my hazel and mac decorated eyes at the woman carrying my endless cokes and free dessert. I say my please and thank you's. Why you might ask? Because, I CAN! Man or woman, free shit, is free shit. We can't always avoid or pick the trials or situations we are put in or given, the only thing we can control is how we react. My cup was never empty, my dessert was scrumptious. Why does free shit always taste better?  

Addictions, T.V. and pedicures.

The first step is admitting you have a problem.

 My latest and most recent addiction is Blogging. It's been two days and every thought, idea and encounter has been stored to my memory for my blogging enjoyment. You know you have a problem when you skip doing your summer school homework to figure out how to design and manage your blog. WTF? So not like me to skip homework these days because I actually love my classes this semester... but that's not the only consequence of my blogging addiction. I skipped class too! This being because of sleep deprivation. LONG NIGHT typing away and laughing by myself. Probably not the most sane way to spend a late night home alone. Hopefully with time I can learn to manage my life, school and thoughts, around my obsession with documenting my inner being and self through the miracle of blogging.

Today while talking with a certain friend via T-mobile, I mentioned her most recent fascination with my circle of friends. This is quite an awkward situation, being that she lives hundreds of miles away and hasn't talked to me consistently in about two years. One can't complain when they are reunited with a old friend (even when this friend and you have the most dominating and powerful personalities known to BYU and their basketball program). I mentioned to her that it's interesting that when people get bored they usually pick up a new hobby or sitcom, but SHE sticks her nose in my life and my friends lives. Why settle for make believe when you can get the real shit, right? I can't help that my friends lead an entertaining life can I? My only way of explaining how I pick friends is, you know the friends your parents, teachers, local D.A.R.E. officers and therapists tell you to stay away from? I SEEK THEM OUT. Why is this? There isn't enough room on the internet to explain the laws of attraction, and even if there was enough room, we'd never come up with a conclusion. All I can say is that I love my friends. All of them, everyone of them, no matter their shape or size. So I guess what I'm saying is, why get a fat ass watching T.V. when you have my life as a resource for pure entertainment. This goes out to my bored ass friend. You know who you are.

Pedicures can be a very enjoyable way to spend a afternoon with an interesting and racist friend. The fastest mathematician and observant person couldn't count the number of judgmental looks thrown between the two of us. After reading that you might think because I said "racist" we were judging our miracle workers fixing our talons and paws. This is not the case. We were judging ourselves. The embarrassment of an unkept paw can humble the most confident person. A few pointers for getting pedi's. One being, check the prices. They can be steep and non-worthy. Two, make a quick judgement on the channel they have selected for your viewing enjoyment. Three, Make sure you have clipped, cleaned and shaven your toes!

I don't know where to start...so naturally...I'll start with me.

So this is blogging. 

My sisters and friends will be happy I've finally conformed. Conforming is inevitable for me when there is attention involved. I've realized that there is one person that most insecure and boring people hate. That person is the person that talks about themselves. Over the past couple weeks I've been studying the concept of identity. During my studies I've found that...I'M THAT PERSON. For some reason I find my life so entertaining for others. I LOVE TO TALK ABOUT IT. I really started thinking about this self-centered person that is hated in society, a.k.a. the annoying person at dinner parties, the friend in the passenger seat during a traffic jam that won't zippy lippy, a head on collision with chatty kathy in a grocery store aisle, or hearing their ring tone go off right before you are laying your head down for the perfect nap. They just can't stop talking about themselves or all the shit that has happened to them. I find that blogging creates this person perfectly; and I intend on taking full advantage of this cyber stage. The beauty of this blog world is I don't have to be that person attacking you with stories and my drama because you have the freedom of choice. The click of the mouse either opens my mouth or doesn't. With that said... it's time to blog.

One of my favorite Sunday activities for the past couple summers has been tanning. While attending the poorly established college we Utahans call Dixie State, I laid out just about everyday. I looked like an expensive leather handbag... literally, being that those purses just keep getting more and more the size of a body bag then the standard clutch. Anyways... getting to my point. Last sunday while laying out I realized that this year has been quite the ass kicking. Always offending friends that I love dearly, offending people I don't care for, getting kicked off my college basketball team for having a mind and opinion of my own (which we all know my mouth was their scapegoat to get rid of me because they can't count my credit hours to save their lives. Damn having a personality and sharp tongue.), family drama, and well school is always a stress. So while laying out I was thinking about my 2008 run so far and feeling as though life had shit on me, I decided to focus on the positive things. My sis and I start talking about all the make believe happiness we try to convince ourselves we have and we hear a splat! Wouldn't you know the moment I start to think positively about not getting shit on by life, I literally get shit on! Right on my leathery thigh lands an unpleasant pearly poop. We have all always been told to think positively. Always look at the good and choose to be happy. Why doesn't anyone ever get props for being honest and realistic? Once you lie to yourself you get shit on. Lesson learned.