Chelsea Robinson-Poof!

Bella Dani Vacca

2010-12-07T12:10:00.000-08:00

Writing has always been my favorite strategy for coping throughout my life, and now I find it might be my only way to cope with death. I have wanted to write a blog to honor the life of someone who influenced and changed the way I view and live my own life. I lost a friend to a drunk driver on November 26, 2010. Danielle Vacca’s life was taken early and unexpectedly from all of us. Whether you knew Danielle as Dani, daughter, sister, step-daughter, girlfriend, Barbra, roommate, friend, co-worker, or unicorn; Dani was the type of person that made even her acquaintances feel like her best friend. I met Dani about a year and a half ago while she was living with my friends in a cute renovated house in Salt Lake City, Utah. This house was full of excitement, parties, dancing, laughter and amazing conversation.

I was in love with Dani the first time I met her. She was one of those people that could make anyone feel special and accepted; she did just that for me every time I saw her big beautiful smile. We quickly became friends and soon I was visiting my friends with hope that Dani’s truck would be parked crooked on the side of the house. My greetings were never hi or hey, but I always entered the house on 9th saying, “IS DANI HERE!?”

Dani had the funniest personality and THE most entertaining friendship with my friend Ashley Brown who lived with her in the house on 9th. It was really so fun watching two people who were so different end up being absolutely perfect friends. I met Dani through Ashley, and will forever love Ashley for this introduction. None of us will forget their fights and conversations in their horrible New Jersey accents. Over time Dani and I quickly found out our similarities and we would always end up leaving the crowd to sit on the old porch or by the fire so we could talk of politics, art, make-up, fashion, traveling, music, literature, philosophy, equal rights, religion and of course gossip! Education was both our passions and we never stopped trying to find the meaning of life by comparing and compromising our ideas with one another. Dani was born on May 3^rd and I was born on May 4^th and we had an ongoing joke that because we were both Italian Taurus’ we were the elite breed. God, I loved our friendship so much; it will always be a very special connection, and I am so glad that I had the opportunity to have had it.

I met Dani at a very crucial point of my life. I was struggling with loving and accepting myself for who I am. My struggles and concerns were never really voiced, but I think Dani had a way of reading and understanding people better than they could every truly understand themselves. She was such a support and knew just what to say to make me love myself. The way Dani lived her life was such an example to me, and I am sure, to many of you who knew her as well. Watching her and talking to her was a breaking point for the direction my life would go in. She taught me how to accept and love unconditionally. I watched my attitude towards life change throughout the time of knowing Dani. I want to publically thank her for the parts of her that she left behind in me, and for helping me to look myself in the eyes and love what I saw staring back at me. Thank you for being you and never thinking twice to alter yourself for acceptance or to please others. No one lived so much life in such little time as Dani Vacca.

Thank you to the Vacca family for raising such a beautiful and accepting daughter. I hope that you can find peace in knowing your daughter was so important and loving to so many people. She influenced and altered the thinking and hearts of so many of us during her short life. I know that Dani finally knows the “real” meaning of life, and I cannot wait to finish our conversation about it. Dani will continue living in my life and heart; she will affect my ideas, perspective and life forever. If there is one thing I have learned from losing my beautiful friend Dani, it is that there is no time to wait; live your life fully. I love you Dani and I hope you know how much you mean to all of us you have left behind.

Bout time...

2010-09-24T23:31:00.000-07:00

I have known for a while I needed to start writing again because writing my ideas down seems to give me some stability, but the problem is I have no idea what inspires me lately. I know that without inspiration my writing seems to be stagnant and pointless. I can't just write to write, I need to feel passionate about my writing and my craft. I am missing my muse tonight, I have for a while now. I should have told my muse to stay, to be comfortable, to be mine... but when am I ever honest enough to be vulnerable? Never. I wish it was something my heart and mind could agree on, but I can't seem to allow myself to be honest with my heart. If that makes enough sense in words. Confusion and cowardliness drives me to write tonight.

I will admit that starting school back up has gotten my mind tangled up and confused, but at least it is being challenged again. There is so much of this life that is confusing and backward, I sometimes find it hard to stay positive when informed of its reality. It really doesn't become known until you are informed of its existence and pressure. Whether it be a social construct you didn't realize until someone presents to you or it might even be a relationship that is neglectful and one sided. These are all realizations that need to be brought to our attention because the routine of everyday life camouflages their existence. It isn't until we are comfortable and then broken that we can find the feeling of being uncomfortable. Who ever wants to be uncomfortable though? This might not make sense, but the past couple of weeks have thrown me for a whirl. I have seen people and things that I put a lot of confidence in fall apart to be left destroyed and defeated. It leaves me hopeless and heartbroken to realize these conclusions. How do I find hope? I write. My muse has been love, perfect blue eyes, heartbreak, beauty, strength, friendship and success, but I find that my muse these days is hopelessness.

Now, the question is: can negative inspire as much as positive? I think it can and does. Maybe hopelessness makes me sound emotional and depressed, but this hopelessness has made me motivated and want to show gratitude to the abused and defeated in my life. I wish that I was stronger and more honest with the ones that I have loved and because of my dishonesty I have in turn lost, but I always seem finish last because of this fault and end up mending my heart with hopes that others can be loved back and fulfilled with the emotion I am scared voice and practice. It just seems to be such a fragile game, love that is, and it isn't until I see someone I love get destroyed by love that I am reconfirmed that I am petrified to get broken again. Even though the people I see heartbroken are the strongest people in my life, I can see that even the strongest can fall as hard as my weakest flaw, that is, loving what I know I can lose. I want to apologize for my fault and let my walls down. I loved you, I should have said it. Forgive me. Rejection is far better than regret. Be honest and live with your consequences. Regret is the worst emotion and doesn't seem to leave, only periodically. Forgive me, because I can't seem to forgive myself.

2010-08-16T19:30:00.000-07:00

Routine

It comforts most-

I am left unsatisfied,

but yet I am immobile.

I sit in your illusion.

comfort; you promise.

I feel despite.

Wanting more-

you can't give it.

obsessed with your rhythm.

I've been captured-

prisoner or follower?

I am not myself regardless of your power.

I'm finished-not devoured.

Hot Wife... Old Man?

2010-02-01T12:06:00.000-08:00

(So much relevance)

There is an obvious pattern and trend that I am starting to notice when I hang out or mingle with what we as "Americans" call the upper-class. Why is it that when I go snowboarding on the weekends or spend my time in Park City surrounded by rich tourists, all I see seem to notice is the unit of hot wife, old man? I am starting to realize that investing in education, real estate, stocks or even pyramid scams (you know who you are friend('s)... and you have a lot of juice to shit your life away with now, don't ya? LOL) is not effective. The most effective way to reach fortune and fame is to hitch-up with a old man... Not just any old man of course, but an old rich man.

Hot wife seems happy as a clam with her half a million dollar ring blinding me in the eye. These hot mom's usually have one or two kids hanging all over their rumpelstiltskin looking daddy. I have come to realize with my recent observations that old man river did not realize that hot wife comes with the desire to still be a mother. Home

boy daddy is well past the age of rough housing or wrestling on the ground with kids, hell in some cases even bouncing a child on a knee is way out of their physical league. THESE MEN ARE OLD.

Now that you as the reader have created a mental picture, a picture that might include imagery of your grandpa with Angelina Jolie, I want to inform you that I am now taking applications for my rumplestiltskin... If you know any old dudes that are ready to hit the box sooner than later and are willing to leave me their fortune, let me know. I am experimenting with morals right now and want to find a positive relevance in possessing/lacking morals in my life. Thank you.

My Daily.

2009-11-24T11:54:00.000-08:00

I have recently become obsessed with my daily horoscope. Yes, I know that there are a lot of people who indulge on this daily habit of checking your horoscope and trying to find its relevance in throughout the rest of your day, but I have suddenly let my horoscope it dictate my days.

Crazy? Yes, but only because it is proving my theory that when we read something or someone tells us something we are inclined to focus on that language we have taken in and make decisions that will make that statement become our reality or truth. For example, the whole positive self talk theory that every insecure teenage girl has heard a million times in attempt to help them through their adolescent identity crisis. You know what I am talking about, that stuff you thought was bull shit!?! Remember being taught that if you tell yourself something positive in the mirror or in your head everyday, you will then start to believe it and it will eventually come true. That is because we focus on these words we have read, spoken, heard or written and our decisions are dictated by them, making us make them our reality.

My horoscopes are becoming my reality.... Coincidence? Or am I just that powerful?

I Love Public.

2009-10-26T12:25:00.000-07:00

Everyone can most likely agree that public bathrooms are one of the most awkward concepts in society. Whoever thought the idea of creating a gathering area for people to do one of their most private acts in public had to have one sick sense of humor and they probably have never had a serious case of diarrhea either. I understand stuffing six stalls in one room saves money and space, but it is just wrong. I am pro having one toilet alloted to one room as a social/comfort code and feel that it needs to be put in writing and voted in the next legislative session, ASAP. No more potty orgies, just saying.

Also, I understand that sometimes we are away from our own personal porcelain thrones and need a rent-a-pot, which gives public restrooms a legit purpose, but isn't it the worst knowing that you not only have to go number 1 or even the dreaded 2 in public, but that you might actually make eye contact in a public bathroom with other people who are doing the exact same thing as you. AWKWARD!!! You would think this would put you on a equal playing field with your other potty goers, but no, for some reason everyone still tries to act innocent within those bathroom walls. YOU'RE NOT! Stop judging, ass.

Eye Contact, why are we all so scared of it? In almost all situations eye contact is so intimidating, for example: in relationships, work, school, parents and of course to prove my point, public bathrooms. It is almost like we believe that if someone looks into our eyes they can read our soul and we are exposed completely. Trust me, people don't care that much, stare at them, you're safe. Knowing that we will all still avoid eye contact out of habit, I will continue with my rant.

Now, you might be able to relate to this scenario... you accidentally glance at someone leaving the stall you are heading for... ugh eye contact is made... you feel awkward knowing that you both just shared a bathroom moment with a complete stranger. Not a good moment, by any means, but an intimate and embarrassing moment none-the-less. All you can think is something along the lines of: are they thinking what I'm thinking? Do they know I pee & poop too? Are they judging? So you both judge the other because of your own guilt and assumptions. These are just typical human coping strategies, but it doesn't change the fact that you both pee and poop. Darn it.

Then there is always the awkward hand wash with the overweight lady you heard struggling in the stall next to you, as you were balancing over the "can" making sure you don't touch anything that you didn't bring into the bathroom with you, in the meanwhile you are struggling to multitask and finish your routine bladder disposal. While washing your hands next to this monument of a woman, you might find yourself thinking to yourself, act like you didn't hear her or even notice her, don't make eye contact and God help her fight the urge for small talk!... You dry your hands quickly and bust through the door back into the hall, the comfortably safe hall.

YEESSSSSSS!!!!!! You're safe! You've just made it through another awkward public bathroom experience. You continue down the hall, only to notice everyone is avoiding eye contact with you, it is so obvious that something is not right, something is very wrong with you. The hall is no longer comfortable, it is now a long stretch of social anxiety. You find yourself resorting to what people naturally do when they feel like an outcast or abnormal, you glance down to hide your eyes. Walking with no visual aid or direction, you notice the catalyst for your social doom... a tail of toilet paper dragging down the hall, mating with your shoe. FML.

Who's Turn?

2009-10-19T16:35:00.000-07:00

Your turn-

You waited so long to speak-

you doubt, and so your voice sounds meek.

Should have listened and noticed its existence-

Now I'm baffled by its presence.

Withholding words cause of hesitation-

leaves me despising your lips indecison.

In turn-

My words seem to trip over my lip-

you seem uninterested in my tongues struggled slip.

I've become scared of my most loyal lover:

Attention.

While you hide in bed with yours:

Imagination.

My turn-

I can only imagine in words-poetry-verbs.

Knowing poetry isn't your preference-

only because it is too welcomed by what you have protected.

I want to wake your imagination-

instead I'm left thinking you're far too complicated.

Now - - I want attention.

For the Love of... Writing?

2009-10-07T13:10:00.000-07:00

I have found myself living in a fantasy world this past week or so, which explains the glazed over look on my face that I have been walking around with only to make everyone around me uncomfortable. No, I don't need professional help or rehab my friends, it is just a form of depression not a drug addiction. I kid! I'm fine, but this state I am in is not any kind of fantasy world worth wasting your dreaming in, it's far too close to reality and emotional to be a dream, but for lack of a better word, a nightmare.

Working two full-time jobs only leaves time for writing and day nighmaring I am afraid. I am at a point in my writing where I am actually living vicariously through my book because I am writing too in depth for comfort and pushing myself to create vivid imagery. It's draining. I've always been a believer in the power of words and language (see January blog "Words" for another one of my rants). I have read books that have left me feeling just about every emotion on the emotional spectrum. Whether it be happy, sad or even some form of depression, I feel these emotions for hours after reading. So with that said, writing a book only makes you feel the emotions you are trying to portray constantly, I am exhausted to say the least.

Now, I ask myself this question every time I pop open my little white apple to write, and the questions is: Is it sane to purposely lose control of reality and live in a fantasy world, just so that you can make your reader feel alive, while you are left dying to create it? I know this sounds dramatic, it is, and don't forget pathetic. Thank goodness this is my place on the internet to whine and bitch, and I love it oh so much.

If you haven't come to the conclusion already, here it is. I have writer's block and emotional problems.

I Won't Ask!

2009-09-24T07:42:00.000-07:00

My friend K.J. and I had conversation on the way to our recreational basketball game last night, and this little session of gab really got me thinking about the things that are okay, and things that just aren't okay when it comes to social settings. This needs to be broken down, I'm going to attempt to get you on my same page of thought right now...

We all know to say our please and are thank you, to give more often than we take, and to never beg. Oh God, you never beg! You will be stoned with humiliation in our society. Especially if you are begging for love, just buy a puppy if you need that. (Is there a program where you can adopt a dog for the dogs first good months, when it is still cute, exciting and new and then trade it in for another new born when that gets old? Wow, that idea sounds like how most of my friends treat relationships... never mind I'll just get a new book.)

Now, my conversation last night was about how it is more appropriate to ask to give than it is to ask to receive in our culture. For instance, asking to receive comes off as begging and asking to give comes off as this selfless and a saint-like act. I won't go into how I believe everything we do is driven by self-centered motives and how the word selfless should be taken out of the Oxford, Webster, iDictionary and all other books containing factual information or definitions, because it is a fictitious and fabricated concept. Even if we do something nice, not for the verbal recognition, but just for the simple fact that it is suppose to make us feel good or strike a few good marks for us in "heaven". I often think, I hope St. Peter remembers this one when I ask, "Please, let me in." The simple understanding that this is going to make me feel good makes the act not selfless folks, Nice... but not selfless. Keep up the good deeds though, I have nothing against people feeling good for receiving and giving.

Okay... so I guess I went into it the whole self-centered theory. I couldn't help myself, people that know me, know I love deconstructing anything and everything about our ideology as human beings. For those of you who can accept that they are self-centered, accept my last paragraph, let go and keep doing shit that makes not only everyone around you feel good, but hell why not you too. Now for those of you who really think they are selfless, you are either the one exception... "A MOTHER" or you are just now realizing and incredibly frustrated that you aren't as perfect as you thought. Get over it. I hope you cringe the next time you get the warm and fuzzies and realize you DID premeditate that you were going to feel those if you did something "selfless"! Sucka.

Now let me give you an example of when it is okay to ask to receive, but incredibly awkward and forthcoming to ask to give. I was born with a God given talent and genetically perfected hands for the perfect back scratch, tickle and massage. My friends who don't look at my fate stalky hands like they are meat packing or labor hands, know of their soft sensitive side, and they take full-advantage of it. I am asked at least 4 to 5 times a week perform one of those three luxuries for a friend. This is the catch, they always ask and it usually doesn't happen right on the spot because I try and avoid being used more often than not. :) This is where my comparison takes place... Every time after I do not serve them, they later ask or state in disappointment, "You never scratch/tickled/massaged my back!" Now, asking to receive is one thing... but is it my responsibility or at all socially acceptable to walk up to a friend and say, "Hey! I want to scratch/tickle/massage you!" Is that not creeper status and awkward! Sometime asking to receive is just more acceptable than asking to give. Amen.

Falling out of Sadness

2009-09-22T13:46:00.000-07:00

I've had a fluent stream of thoughts since Sunday. I've wrote a little here and there while trying to figure out what my thoughts actually meant, but gathering them into a whole idea and putting them into words has taken some time. I realized that sometimes you just need an amazing friend to tell you to snap out of it, get over it and be realistic. I have that friend, and she isn't shy to tell me how it is, even if it hurts. I respect that.

This past Sunday I spent the day with this verbal friend, and this Sunday changed my perspective tremendously. It saved my sanity. Now, this makes me sound completely unstable, but I'm not, I just have had a dark cloud hovering over my life for a couple months now. It's hard for me to let go, especially after losing someone, but it was put in perspective for me perfectly on Sunday, "You're no longer in love with what you lost, but you are in love with your sadness." This might not make sense to everyone, so let me explain...

Sometimes we become so comfortable in our state of being that we don't want to change it, even if it means remaining sad, mad, depressed or hateful. These are all horrible moods and emotions to continually feel, right? But we can actually find comfort in these emotions, so much comfort that we keep them around to protect or restrict us from feeling the opposite emotions, because the opposite emotions like happy, make us vulnerable again. And if we just continue to be sad then we don't have to go through the roller coaster of being happy and then completely crushed again. We just find ourselves being happy with being sad. Contradicting? I know, but my past reality. It was refreshing to know that I don't need anything or anyone, just a change of perspective and an attitude adjustment.

While trying to come to this empowering and optimistic conclusion, a friend asked me what I thought love is and to define my ideas of love for her. God, the never ending question that people have been asking for generations and generations to understand why they can feel so surreal and then so shitty again and again, lover after lover. I truly thought about the word love and came up with this definition: "Love is a word, yes. But more of a category for other words and emotions. It's comfort, companionship, lust, adoration, affection, routine, interest, hard work, friendship and family. Settling is not a negative thing when it comes to love, just a reality. With each lover we lose, it is human instinct to improve upon their loss with the gain of a better and more fulfilling lover the next time we choose to love. Meaning we will always improve our lover with every relationship we move to, as long as we are confident and are patient to wait for someone better than the last. Eventually, we are content and settle with a lover because we are ready to nest. Love is just a category and the idea our species has created to define the feeling all those words create within us. The lust and butterflies, they come and go, and are not consistent or love. Every relationship is case sensitive because we each love differently and in different cycles. It's truly chemical, the feelings we define as "in love." Hard work and settling are what is truly everlasting and what I would consider love."

I want to fall out of sadness and into "love."

SAVE JACKIE!!!

2009-09-18T13:59:00.000-07:00

My dear friend and Co-worker, JacMac, has reached a new level of concern today, September 18, 2009. It has been a bumpy couple months for my little buddy, I understand this and have sympathy for her shortcomings and stupidity. Aside from her colorful personality and good looks of course, she is having a hard time finding another part-time or full-time job. I have taken the liberty of assisting her in the matter. This is the purpose for my blog today. Jac needs a job!

Don't get me wrong, she is a hard worker and very capable of doing great things in the work force... but when I glanced in her cubical today and noticed she was applying, on freaking Craigs List, to be a pimp for a company called, "Women-Finding-Women" I knew that the little voice inside my head was God asking me to reach out to a friend who has completely lost her morals for survival... I was horrified at first and then the opportunist in me gave her the address to my recreational basketball league that takes place every wednesday night, thinking I might get a small commissions check for leading her to a gold mine of "Women-Finding-Women-Weekly." She took down my reference J.I.C. (just in case) she has to actually take the pimp'n job to pay her car payment this month. ;)

This is where you, the reader comes in... If you have any references, ideas, friends, help wanted or leads on a job, leave a comment for Jackie on this blog so we can get her steady employment and save the face of her beautiful family. THANKS!

JacMac (in black)

Just a Little Story

2009-09-17T13:19:00.000-07:00

I finally moved all my crap/important items into my drawers and closet today. I have had a mountain of clothes on the floor in my room that changes shape every time I dig through it for my next outfit. For the first time in weeks I can see my floor! It's TAN! Who would have known?!?! Feels good to have some order in my life. It is crazy to notice that once I start getting a little control in my life, other things start to get in order too... like my room.

I love both my jobs, and I haven't been able to say that for the longest time now. The teacher I assist at the high school has been one of my favorite people/teachers for years now and I'm so excited to learn everything I can from her. She continues to teach me more and more about how to effectively influence and teach kids in our profession. I owe her so much for taking the time to help me with my craft.

The other day in class we did an exercise that really forced the kids to open up to one another and get to know the journey their classmates have been on in their lives, what their dislikes and likes are and so much more. When J.J.(teacher/friend) announced the activity we would be doing that day, you could see some of the kids were nervous about exposing their personal feelings, stories and qualities with the other students in class. But after a couple people opened up and shared, it was like a wild fire spread across the desks, everyone was becoming more comfortable and honest. I would have never known how inspiring and strong my students were until this day in class. I am so impressed with what kids can endure and overcome these days. I have been inspired by the honesty and life stories of each and everyone of these students. That day in class really helped me put my life in perspective and find my footing again. I thank them and hope they know that I support and believe in their abilities to become who they dream.

My Techno Alias

2009-09-12T14:34:00.000-07:00

It has recently come to my understanding that I will occasionally take on a completely different personality when texting. Of course it is different with close friends who know me and interact with me on a daily basis, but when you meet someone new, someone you have no obligation to, it is incredibly entertaining to mess with them by creating a new "you" through your text messages just to see how they will react or respond. Interestingly enough, my text alias seems to intimidate or entertain the most conditioned text messenger. I LOVE IT. But when is living in this text message world too much?

We can become anyone we want through text, it's empowering. I understand that. For some reason it gives you a sort of high becoming and portraying yourself in a way you most likely wish you could be. I've decided it is actually quite frightening what we can become. The funniest part is I more often than not, find people more entertaining and attractive through text messaging. That's incredibly hilarious and SAD. How impaired have we become interacting face-to-face? I almost rather text date than actually date in some instances. I hope you don't find me rude, but people are becoming less and less well-rounded as the years go on and become more technology driven. Where did the depth go? We'll read 1,000 texts a day, but won't pick up a classic by Hemingway. It's complete bull shit. There aren't many people you can head to coffee with these days and leave knowing the conversation at hand was life changing or enlightening. Instead, your coffee date will most likely go like this, you grab your coffee, sit down in a uncomfortable contemporary steel chair, exchange a few sentences of dialogue and proceed to text message some "fake" person on the other end of your mobile phone. Unless that "fake" person on the other end of that text message is me, that shit is not worth ignoring the flesh and blood sitting across the table from you. I'd like to challenge everyone to get a grip and freshen up on their social skills in reality and not technology. Soon "sexting" is going to be considered better than actual sex! This is a road that might solve the filthy distribution of S.T.D.'s, S.T.I.'s and H.I.V., but seriously, let's not play it too safe.

SAY CHEEEEEESE!!!!!

2009-08-29T10:21:00.000-07:00

Back to school. It's the first school year in my life that I am not a student. It is crazy to realize how much of my identity was "student." Although, I might not be a student, I am still mistaken as one, and not in a good way. As most of my reader's know, I am going to be a high school teacher and I am currently a T.A. right now at the school I will work for until the semester change, when I should hopefully have a job teaching. Now, when ever you start a new job, you want to seem as though you are qualified for that job, right? I know that I'm qualified, I have the degree and shit, but it's hard to be confident when you are walking down the hall of the high school you work at and your fellow faculty member asks you where your hall pass is because they think you are a student. I'M TWENTY FOUR YEARS OLD. Embarrassing. This is only where my story begins.

So I remember why they had me do all those story problems when I was in high school, it was for future reference like this, my problem solving skills were being finely tuned and ingrained in me to solve all sorts of problems in my life. So I saw the problem and I came up with a solution, I would make my hair a little less fun, dress in dull colors, act serious or mad and stop smiling so much. This was my new image and hopefully would make me look more like a teacher. My first day in my new image was picture day! O' joy! I hate pictures, always have. Every picture in my childhood has me frowning in a camouflage outfit. I would wear nothing but camo when I was a kid, I must have known that my life would be an ongoing battle for attention.

I approached the lady at the photo counter who had all the information and the cards with names on them to give the photographer when it was your turn to be photographed and documented into the archives of horrible year book pictures taken by Life Touch Photography. Bastards, they always catch me when my smile is deflating and limp making me look like I have a crazy case of Bell's Palsy. The woman at the counter looked me up and down and said, "Senior?" I responded with, "Ugh, I'm twenty four years old." She gave me the pity look you get when you are inadequate at something, searched the faculty file for my name and handed it over with a hopeless glance. Great! I still look 16. Now I just look sixteen, boring and angry. It didn't end there though, the lady who prepares you for the photographer thought I was a Junior and the photographer thought I was well developed Senior. I knew he thought I was well developed because he couldn't take his pretty blue eyes of my rack. Is it like a prerequisite when applying for a photography job that you have to be a perv? Cause I qualify and need a second job. Think I look old enough to get the job, because I'm sure they aren't hiring Juniors and Seniors in high school!?!?!

When telling this story to a friend, she answered, "At least you look young!" Let me remind you all about the theory of age; it is not good to look young when you need to look older to be credible, e.g. when buying beer with your I.D. that no longer looks like you because you change your hair length and color every month, leaving both you and your I.D. photo looking underage and unalike. Now on the other hand, it is also not good to look old when you need to look younger, e.g. after your husband of 25 years leaves you for a younger woman (it is my personal believe that men age better than women) and you are left trying to find a new financial plan(male) but they're all swooping the younger chicks, leaving you screwed and penniless. I need to look older by next week and I have to stop laughing at the students when they disrespect authority.

Butterfly Effect

2009-08-20T08:29:00.000-07:00

Finally!!! I'm out of the twin (one seater) and back in my big kid bed (two seater). My bed has been used as THE symbol of my maturity with friends for a while now. It might be funny to tease a twenty three... shit... twenty four year old for sleeping in a twin sized bed, but I want to prove them wrong right now, just for shits and giggles and because a new blog has once again been demanded from one of my four readers.

I just want you all to know that I have not outgrown that bed, and I feel like I am so immature that I should probably have characterized sheets and an oversized stuffed animal that smells like years of cuddling and drool. I felt like a high schooler today. I've finally developed a strong crush, and for the first time since high school, I changed my outfit like 9 times and freaked out that my hair wouldn't look sloppy perfectly. Having short hair makes perfection look silly, but when it won't look messy "perfectly", then I see red. Now to me having a crush seems so adolescent and juvenile. I had a friend tell me like a month ago that she had a crush, I responded with, "Aren't we too old to have those?" I'd like to publicly retract my last statement on "crushes" and say, "No, we are not too old to crush!" And after worrying about money, sanity, school and what I'm going to eat next (my biggest decision of everyday), having a crush is a great vacation from worry.

Now, what to wear?!?! I haven't unpacked anything from my move and I've been wearing the grossest outfits all week. They've probably noticed, huh! Why do I care? Now this is why I've missed having a crush, because they make me get ready in the morning... and the make-outs are way better. Okay, I like crushes mainly because the make-outs are better. And this is my explanation for that, maybe pressure makes everything better? Developing a crush puts pressure on the situation and in-turn makes everything that happens within this "crush" you have developed and created in your head worth while. Now that is my butterfly effect theory! I can hold hands, kiss and cuddle with anyone, but it is only the ones I crush on that give me butterflies. I'm attracted to the other ones and interested, but the crush makes the difference. I think it is all psychological really. I've missed my crushing abilities. I got to get ready!

To be continued...

Home~ Sweet~ Home~

2009-08-15T10:52:00.000-07:00

I'm sitting here (well actually laying on my twin bed, yeah I know twin beds are for kids or college students living in a dorm, I am neither of those), in my room, wondering where to start first when it comes to packing your life away. I'm moving out of my parents house for the last time. One might look at my age and say, "It is about damn time Chels", but I have really enjoyed moving in, then moving out, then back in five or six times in my young adult life... Okay, I Lied. It's a pain in my ass, but at least I got to see my mom everyday here and there.

Although, it is strange moving this time, knowing that it is the last time this home will be mine. Stupid I know, how as humans we create these strong attachments to material things we have decided to give sentimental value to in our lives, but in my pathetic defense, we moved into this home the year I was born and it has been my safety zone and home base my whole life. Every time I've screwed something important up in my life, I've come back to home base to pick my ass back up, swallow my pride and start over. Whether it be quitting a basketball team, getting kicked off a basketball team, changing colleges, or most importantly ruining my relationship with someone I loved, they all led me back to home base to rehabilitate myself and cope. I'm scared as hell for my next screw up to say the least because I won't be able to run home, my roommate Chip will have to talk me off the top step at our new place... seriously the staircase is huge... at least broken arm worthy. She is soft spoken, caring and logical, don't worry, I'll be fine.

While packing, I've been thinking about all my memories here. I want to thank my siblings for every great childhood memory I've had with them. My best friend and brother Dave and all our adventures together all over the neighborhood and in our imaginary world we would create with lego's and action figures. My little sister for all the fights and drama. My oldest brother for the torture and finding my sister-in-law Kaydee who is like one of my own sisters and best the decision he has ever made. My sister Danielle for her humor, care and designer couch to make-out on because I don't dare do it on Howie's couch. My sister and best friend Katrina, for always being my best escape from reality, her connection with me that gives her the skill to know when I need her most and always being there for me, and MOST importantly for always understanding my oddness. I love you guys and miss you so much. I had the best childhood because of my siblings and parents. And don't worry, I didn't forget you Levi. I will always look back on my memories with my best pal Levi who grew up across the street from me. I'm so proud of him and what he has made of his life. I love you buddy.

I want to thank my parents for building a home that can be a happy memory for us all, not just my family but all the friends who have spent hours sitting around the bar in the kitchen hanging out and eating my mom's amazing cookies. We will all miss 2288 in Williamsburg. I try and understand how it all worked out over all these years. My parents could possibly be exact opposites, but they built something that worked for me and hopefully the rest of my family. I'll miss watching TNT double header's on Sundays with my dad, and always rooting for the team playing the Jazz, just to get his competitive side surfaced again. I still hate Karl Malone purely to tick my dad off. My dad with his tough side that only covers up what a softy he really is. He is my biggest supporter, fan and buddy. Through basketball and now school, he wants me to achieve my dreams. I thank and love him for being a dreamer too. My mom, my closest and best friend ever. I will miss our talks laying in her bed on any given afternoon. Our cokes with sonic ice and the unofficial book club we've created together because of our love of literature. Her voice and hugs that always calm me down on a stressful day. All her sayings in her soft spoken voice and her ability to love and connect with any and all of my friends. She is the ideal mom and best friend. She fills the two major roles in my life and that is why when I think I've lost everything, I have everything in her. I love you guys so much and I love my memories here and can't wait to build a home and memories with the one I love.

Bad Luck... Equals New Beginnings.

2009-08-08T15:05:00.000-07:00

I don't like to think that there is such a thing as Karma, because it makes me feel doomed every time I make fun of some random misfortunate looking soul, as I point and laugh while saying, "your team" to my nearest friend. It just makes the statement, "karma is a bitch" make so much more sense to me though, because I am a bitch, which in turn makes karma one. I need to be nice, maybe. Bad karma is not a good time.

After thinking a lot about my life, I realized that I have had a series of misfortunate events these past couple months, whether they be let downs or mess ups, I'm not fully aware of why they are happening to me. Is it bad luck, or bad karma? Now, I can look at this negatively and feel sorry for myself or take the higher road and realize, whether it is bad luck or karma, improving myself is never a bad thing, so why not do it regardless of whether it cures my karma or not. Improvement is needed now and fast, before loss of sanity happens.

I've felt almost every emotion there is possible to feel in the last couple of months. As much as I've hurt, been frustrated or even been happy, I am thankful for the ups and downs because I have never felt more alive. I have put walls up and missed out on some great opportunities because of my past let downs, this is only hurting me more. It is okay to be vulnerable and honest with how you feel and what you really want. It is the only way to be happy. There are things we lose and gain during the trials of our lives, somethings we will miss and other things we can do without. It's refreshing to know that you can do without somethings and there is only more to gain by letting go. Whether it be in relationships, careers or friends. I've found that you can only build from what you've lost and in turn won't settle for anything less than what you have already had if you value yourself and your worth. I'm ready for bigger and better things, hopefully self improvement will give me luck or create a that better karma I need.

Brentano 309 time!

2009-07-29T07:42:00.000-07:00

It has been a weird couple of weeks for me. I have been trying to get my job all lined up for teaching in the fall and then starting a new one to finish out the summer with has been interesting. It has been crazy. My parents have FINALLY sold their house and informed me that I have to be out by August 31. They said they'd never kick me out. LOL. I guess it's time though, and I'm thankful for that and for everything they do for me. I love and will miss seeing you guys everyday like I have the past couple of months. Saying bye to this home will be a challenge for us all.

I am so excited for all the new change taking place in my life. Everything is finally starting to line up for me. Today is a very special day though, my best friend is coming to visit me for six days. She was my roommate (Brentano 309) my freshman year of college and she is the person in my life, like than my mom and sisters, who knows me best. We are both about to encounter a new chapter of life that is going to be incredibly challenging and rewarding. I can't wait to spend time and reflect on how we got here and how we are going to get through what lies ahead. I love you Kim. You just left Dallas, I can't wait to see ya girl! 2.5 hours!

Just a Thought

2009-07-11T18:43:00.000-07:00

Majority of the population spends their lifetime trying to find themselves. Looking for our identity as an individual consumes our lives and influences the decisions we make throughout our lifetime. It is human nature to want to know who we are and where we are going. But I don't want to find myself. I want to create myself.

Naturally, I decided who I was at a young age by believing the opinions of others. The weren't always right, but they weren't always wrong about me. I decided who I was solely on my talents and what people told me I was good at. Never challenging myself in any areas that were intimidating or uncomfortable for me. Playing it safe was easy and fulfilling enough for me at the time. The talents and interests that come easy to me are the things I chose to define who I was. I decided at a young age that I would play college basketball and excel in athletics because it was a talent I had found early on in life. No one ever mentioned that it is alright if childhood dreams aren't always what they seem and that you don't have to follow through with them. I pushed through the years of basketball even after my love for the game had left me because failure and quitting has been made into such a negative concept, especially in athletics. Quitting can be just another form of change. And change can be the best thing for us sometimes, it was for me. Changing my life direction when I was ready for a new chapter was out of the question, because it would make me a quitter. The time finally had come, I decided to end my basketball career and move on. I found that the only way to create who I really wanted to be, was to contradict myself. Entirely.

I had to step out of my comfort zone and face my intimidator and be uncomfortable. I could perform athletically in front of thousands, but turning my writing or something I had crafted in, knowing that it could be criticized and rejected was my biggest fear and insecurity. I pushed myself and overcame this fear of rejection and I started writing. This was when my blog was created. It was my way of putting myself out there and conquering my fear. I never would have created this part of me, the part of me I had feared, if I hadn't contradicted my childhood goals and the portrait of myself that had been painted by others my whole life. The brush was finally in my hands, and I became my own artist.

Creating who I wanted to really be started with contradicting everything I had been told I was by myself and others. My journey as an English major has helped me deconstruct my life and beliefs. Now I can really create my own ideology and belief system. I always thought I knew who I was, but I haven't even made my own decisions till recently. In academic classes such as philosophy, literary theory, sociology, and psychology we are told we are products of our environment. There are positive and negative effects that come from all environments, but if we are aware of their influences we can control how effective they are in our lives. I want to decide for myself who I will be and were I will go, even if my environment and beliefs contradict me. My education and literary studies have opened my eyes; eyes I never knew were closed.

The Danger in Expectations

2009-06-24T11:21:00.000-07:00

This past month I decided to try something out, a little experiment if you will. I realized that being let down had become a very consistent emotion in my everyday. When something negative becomes consistent in anyone's life, their common sense and the ability to think usually leeds to them deconstructing and dissecting their life's current changes or reasoning for feeling this way so often. One of my thoughts on why I was creating and feeling let down was the danger in having expectations. When we create expectations for the people around us, we are giving them the power to prove us right or more often than not prove us terribly wrong. Expectations are very dangerous. My mom said it perfectly when she said, "Don't let expectations become fantasies". True and powerful statement mom's. Agreed.

Let me give you an example to help you understand my current realization. Dating. Yes, the dreaded social structure we created over time to find that person that fits you perfectly and will share the rest of your life with you. Otherwise known as THE MATE. I don't know what would be more painful, the caveman approach, which is getting hit over the head and dragged into a cave or having dinner with a liar who uses all their words of deceit and gloat? Then once you buy into their lies you find out that they are a total tool and mass texting all the same lines to every other girl that would buy into it the same act. How generic do you feel once you find out that it's working on everybody? Sucks, huh. Ugh...I think I would rather take a couple good hits from the caveman, they can't even text or communicate with words. Perfect.

Now, having loved and lost, and being the shoulder to cry on for my friends who have also loved and lost. I know how we cope as women. We tell ourselves we can do better and then point out all our recent ex's negative flaws we just barely started noticing at our heartbreaks convenience because it helps us detach from our attachment to them. Attachment, what a bitch, you know her well I'm sure, it's their smell, their laugh, their comfort, their smile... you know all the visual and emotional bull shit that had you hooked to them because you've wasted all your free time making those things more important than reality. Now they go from being everything you ever wanted to being everything you least expected. Fact is, they didn't change. Your EXPECTATIONS did. Before you created expectations and fantasies about who they are or are going to be FOR YOU. Now that they are gone you look them in the eyes, during one of your ever so dramatic break-up fights, and say, "I see your potential, why can't you see it?" Umm, because you made it up in your head. New rule. Date people who have already obtained a potential that will satisfy your needs. NO more fixer uppers. Stop having expectations that are fictitious. Majority of people suck, stop making them out to not. Be prepared.

Now back to my experiment. I tried living my life without expectations. Tricky, right? It's nearly impossible. It's like losing hope completely, not just in others but even yourself. I changed completely during this period of time. Did things I wouldn't normally do because I didn't have expectations for myself. Expectations for ones self are goals, standards, morals, integrity and character. Just because I can't expect others to have these qualities; I can and will expect them from myself. I came to the conclusion that expectations in others can be premeditated disappointment we create in our head. We create these expectations/fantasies to give hope in the people we interact with in our life. I'm back to the realization that the only person I have control over is myself. I can only expect what I can control. Myself. Even if it means letting go and trimming off some social fat or coming off as a complete emotionless bitch when someone does something that shocks everyone because of their EXPECTATIONS! Wow, I feel better. Thanks.

Movement

2009-06-16T10:42:00.000-07:00

movement...

my mind paralyzing attraction;

they’re perfect in every reaction.

applying pressure to my every exertion,

my desires want solutions.

movement...

body language-

two souls perfect communication.

beats and pulse heightened-

holding my breath to create distraction.

movement...

why can’t I describe you;

only feeling mesmerized by you.

you’re not even aware of your natural mastery-

I’m clinging to your every faculty.

movement...

in sync without speaking;

my curiosity overcomes thinking.

logic and reason become an illusion

captivation creates conversion.

movement...

rare in a companion-

my most fatal attraction.

OVERRATED & UNCOMFORTABLE.

2009-06-11T23:17:00.000-07:00

The rain has overstayed its welcome the last couple days. It is June, not April. Eff' April showers, you missed your window this year you harlot. Back off already, I need to lay out. Not only has the rain ruined my tanning schedule and given me afternoon insomnia, it has also become my hairs arch nemesis. Every time I leave any warm comfortable shelter and enter out into the cold, humid, moist downfall, my hair lies lazily to the side of my head. VOLUME is everything when you are a round faced Italian with short blonde hair. The rain is destroying my swagger and forcing me to hermit away. It needs to exit my life story, now.

Interestingly enough, the rain has brought to my attention a mutual understanding with one of my close friends Drewbie. At lunch today, after running through a squall from my car Harriet into one of our beloved Cafe Rio locations, Drew and I landed upon the conversation of kissing in the rain. Now, I can enjoy a storm just as much as the next gal, but viewing it from the inside of it is not my idea of sexy or arousing. A nice covered porch, house or car window is very much appreciated for my comfort and viewing pleasure. This dry comfortable preference was only reiterated while I was eating my pork burrito completely soaking wet from my fifteen yard jaunt in the rain from my car to shelter. My current damp condition killed my appetite, so I can't imagine what it would do to my sex drive.

Getting to the point...Why does our media and society make kissing in the rain out to be some exotic and sexy experience?!? It is extremely overrated. I'm here to tell you why. Much needs to be thought out before you fall into, and believe in this exotic cliche and imagery that is kissing in the rain. For one, rain is filthy, disgustingly polluted and dirty. It falls through our toxic atmosphere and lands upon your head and your partners head only to drip from the hairs, scalp oils and hair product of each one of your heads and down your faces. Gross.

Not knowing your partners hygienic rituals only brings more fear to the current chemistry that is falling down your faces, onto your lips and into your mouths. You are eating their Herbal Essence or Suave... literally, and not in a good way. (cheap shampoo=cheap kiss) Now, the kiss finally takes place, it might be nice, it might not, but at this point it is not the quality of the kiss you are going for but the story of you kissing in the rain. Why do you do this? You do this because the imagery of this wet kiss has been made out to be an ideal aphrodisiac by our pop culture. Fool'd again, you fall into our media's tempting lures. We are all puppets, dammit.

The kiss is over, you are most likely left unsatisfied, freezing, wet, uncomfortable, awkward looking and haggard. Was it worth it? Unless this kiss ends with a trail of wet clothes and a pregnancy test, you are probably just making the awkward drive home looking like a wet dog and chaffing from the seam of your wet designer jeans.

Drew and I both decided that kissing in the rain is just not doing it for us, especially after you factor in the cons to this widely viewed pro, that is, kissing in the rain.

Trash Talking, Threes and Blisters.

2009-06-04T10:08:00.000-07:00

I've been reunited with my competitive demon. It's the part of me I never wanted to see again, but she's back. It's been months, well considering I hated college basketball, it's been years since I've enjoyed or cared to play basketball. I've had my little glimpses here and there of joy, but nothing too reassuring that I might actually love the game. It all happened on Memorial Day when my dear friend Kayla was spending the holiday with my family. Kayla is still a prisoner of college basketball, so her horrible hobby tends to follow our friendship around and stress both of us out. Hearing her stories sends me into my instinctive combat mode. The negativity streams through my veins and creates some of my best verbal attacks. It's sick, really. So entertaining and therapeutic.

Now it is known that my family used to have quite the competitive side. Over the years we have all calmed down immensely with our rage and competitiveness. Which is a giant blessing for someone who has failures. LOL. Well it is Memorial Day and Karen decides to get out the bocci ball set. Italian bowling, really? This was the beginning of my competitive down fall. After Kayla and I destroyed and trash talked my nine year old niece Quinn and my sister-in-law Kaydee, it still wasn't enough! All of the sudden Kayla and I weren't satisfied with our team win, we wanted to kill each other too. Before I knew it, I was lacing up my J's and raising the basketball hoop on the driveway to the legal 10 ft. regulation height. Kayla was fueling my demonic athletic side with her verbal and physical trash talking. Little shit. We can thank her for my downfall.

We play a couple games of horse and 21. It was intense, and to my disappointment my nephew Christian kept screaming that I was losing. So much for family support, bud. I was fine at first, but could feel my competitiveness starting to boil... after a couple games Kayla and I were screaming at each other because of a misunderstanding in rules and the fact that she can't count worth a shit. It has been so long since I've cared about winning or losing a game of basketball. With my family in my backyard and the next door neighbors who go to my parents church and all their family in their yard, I was screaming the most unkind and irreverent words at the top of my lungs. I apologize for the loss of face to my family, I'm sure they'll get some unkind glares at church for their "failure" in raising a well mannered and lady like daughter... To my surprise Kayla held her ground and in the middle of our verbal battle she kindly reminded both of us how much we enjoy acting like completely insane animals by saying, "I love us". This was my breaking point, my demons have been released and you can all thank Kayla for that. I then went on to join two recreational basketball teams, and started playing pick-up with the college girls that are home for the summer. I'm addicted! My feet are falling apart and my back feels like an antique. Someone please help me. Burn my Jordan's and break my wrists... I can't stop. I'm shooting unreal percentages!

Kayla Burningham, "The Instigator"

Buying time.

2009-05-28T08:50:00.000-07:00

I am at a transition period in my life... again, maybe this is just life. Shit. After graduating college, one is expected to find a job and start their adult/professional life. I'm in the process of doing that, but waiting has become my worst enemy. I HATE WAITING! I am stressing out. I feel like I did when I was waiting for basketball scholarships to come through when I was eighteen and completely oblivious to the physical and mental abuse that came with signing that ever so attractive athletic scholarship. Trickery. Waiting is the worst for me though, the stress is paralyzing. I just want next fall to be here. I need it.

As of now, I'm bored of my current employment, as most people probably are in our economy. Where are all the jobs that bring you a fulfilling day, and continue sending you home happier with yourself and how you have spent your time? WHERE ARE THEY? I have one of these fulfilling jobs that will start next fall. Not sure what that job will be completely, but I have one. The problem is... what do I want to do June, July and August? I need money, but I don't want to dread my everyday like I am right now. Finding work is probably one of my least favorite obstacles in life, well that and finding a mate! Both seem to be more work than what they are worth in the end. The problem is, the only jobs that seem available to anyone are part-time retail and food industry jobs. Gross. How sad is our economy right now, it's pathetic. I am extremely frustrated. All those people who use the side of the brain that I don't use, you know the math side and logical side, not the artistic, abstract side. Yeah, they need to bring their "A" game and get the ball rolling financially for this country.

You know what the most annoying thing to me is, when you go to apply online for one of these bull shit jobs that high school students should have, not college graduates, and the company or organization you are applying for actually puts these applications under the link titled "careers"... career my ass. If they are going to use trickery and actually make you believe their is a career on the other end of that application, they should legally be forced to add under their company goals, drive employees clinically insane. I need a need a new job for the next three months. Can you tell? I'm going insane.

My Best Part...

2009-05-25T08:10:00.000-07:00

Always there;

on the other end of my calls.

Without fail;

catching me from each fall.

I don't think I'll ever compare;

you love perfectly.

I'll always mimic your character;

my ideal example.

The part of me I cherish most-

you.

Love hearing these words...

"You remind me of your mom"-

my favorite compliment and accomplishment.

"You look more, and more like your mom"-

always searching my reflection for you.

You're my best friend, listener and critic;

you unconditional love always proves this.

You're the most beautiful woman I have ever seen;

completely honest, selfless and driven.

I will always have hope,

to be just like you.

Seeing the world beautiful and new.

You're eyes aren't blurry or judgmental-

you love whole hearted and unconditional.

My hero;

is in my everyday reality.

My fan, My friend, My mom.

An Overdue Thank You

2009-05-12T11:46:00.000-07:00

Now that I'm all graduated from college, it's time to start planning my future. This is one of the weirdest times in my life yet. I've never had to plan something that can be so permanent. Getting into a career just seems so final. It is a scary thing for someone like me to feel like something is final or permanent. A flaw, I guess. So of course, to make permanency an easier concept for me, I pick a career that is as close to being a student as possible, teaching. As exciting as it is to think about actually having enough money to save and live very comfortably, it is also so sad to say goodbye to the title of "student". I have been a student nearly my entire life, and I love it. I've bounced around from school to school since high school, and as hard as it

was to keep having to redo credits, change majors, make new friends, play college basketball for morons (excluding the Evansville coaching staff) and move all around, I wouldn't have had it any other way. I have had the best college experience. I learned so much about myself and the people around me. Becoming and English major has changed my life entirely. I love my professors and friends that have been so influential in my academic life.

My parents have been such a powerful influence and support through all the years. I'd like to thank them publicly for their love and support. I'd also like to thank my sisters for their support. I don't know how many times I've had to call my sister Kat or drive down to visit her in California, just for her advice, love and support. Thanks you Sis. Thanks to all my close friends who have been there for me through it all. All the way from my childhood best friend Kim Lance to Kim McMillin, Cammie Campbell, Maya Gross, Kayla Burningham, Jen Allen and my Kristin B. Lyons. Thanks for always being there for me when I needed a push to get through school, a semester, a paper, a relationship or any other life stresses. I love you guys so much and want you to know how much your influence and help has helped me to succeed. And to all my other friends, recent and old. Thank you so much for your friendship and loyalties. It truly is such a gift to find real friends, some people will never find friends who are actually what they portray themselves to be. I have been blessed with many honest and real friends. I was looking at some quotes I've kept over my years in college, I hope you guys enjoy them:

"A friend is one who knows you and loves you just the same." - Elbert Hubbard

"A man's growth is seen in the successive choirs of his friends." - Ralph Waldo Emberson

"A single rose can be my garden, a single friend, my world." - Leo Buscagila

"A true friend never gets in your way unless you happen to be going down." - Arnold H. Glascow

"Be courteous to all, but intimate with few, and those few be well tried before you give them your confidence." - George Washington

"Friendship is a single soul dwelling in two bodies." - Aristotle

"Friendship is unnecessary, like philosophy, like art... It has no survival value; rather it is one of those things that gives value to survival." - C.S. Lewis

"I always felt that the great high privilege, relief and comfort of friendship was that one had to explain nothing." - Katherine Mansfield

My Artist

2009-05-09T10:09:00.000-07:00

Can you see me in color?

Or is your vision just as skewed.

Decisions are black and white-

isn't that how it has always been viewed-

trained to see only in shades.

Where is the color?

Make time for this change-

Stop, and notice.

White is only your canvas-

black simply the guidelines.

Color is the personality-style-soul-mine

Know you paint your own picture-

and it's absolutely beautiful.

Too inspired to be bias or blind.

Am I broken?- I'm finally seeing in color.

They're so vibrant and clever.

Your colors drown my ignorance.

Completely capturing my vision-

my artist, my wisdom.

Now that I see you-

I'll never misuse or abuse you.

Honest in my portrayal-

will you keep me?

Filling in my lines;

and covering my canvas.

I'll catch your colorful eyes-

like you've captured mine.

My Artist.

Spring Cleaning!

2009-05-07T08:35:00.001-07:00

I love Spring! Not just because school is out and it is my birthday season, but because it leads to my favorite thing in life... LAYING OUT! Laying out is an art. Flipping at the right time, positioning yourself not to have annoying tan lines, keeping your coke ice cold in the sun, and holding your book just right so no shadow overcasts your perfect tan. It isn't as easy as it looks. It's a skilled art. :) Spring is the start of laying out conditioning for everyone. Everyone starts losing that winter coat, so to speak. I'm in the process of losing my winter coat every morning. Running, dieting and picking up heavy things. I absolutely hate lunges, buggers. The first week was hard and a burden on my schedule, but I'm feeling great now, and the results keep me going! I can't wait for the pools to open and for Worm to get here. She's my tan "spotter". Like my work out buddy, but for tanning. Oh shit, I'm explaining jokes in my blog, that probably means I'm not funny. Aww Rats, back to the drawing board.

Spring is so great, people start not only working out and cleaning up, but they hit the tanning salons or start doing outdoor activities to get that ever so luring tan. Why is everything that is a danger to your health so attractive? What an annoying fact. It's true though, everyone looks better with a cancerous tan. Their bronzed skin is so sexy isn't it? Although, if you really think about how it is just burnt, dead skin awaiting its next shed... that's not very sexy. Yuck, but hot right?!?! Oh I hate mixed and contradicting feelings! Gross, BUT sexy. I think the tan is why everyone loves summer. It is not just because of the weather, BBQ's, cool nights, and make-outs, but it's the fact that it is so much easier to find someone attractive during the summer. You always hear people talking about having a summer fling or dating a lot in the summer. This is my theory on why, TANS! Everyone is more confident and attractive with one. It's a fact. You will overlook some of the most annoying traits, flaws, bad social skills, stupidity and settle for someone you wouldn't even think about dating in the more dreary months of fall and winter. This is because of that damn tan. For those of you who are having a hard time finding people attractive these days... There is hope, THE TAN.

~A Few New Favorites~

2009-04-28T10:48:00.000-07:00

10. Crystal Light Lemonade & White Grape. Freaking bomb and it is totally substituting my Coke addiction .

9. Dancing with my friends. "I just wanna dance", as Dane Cook would say. It's what we do.

8. Ogies breakfast/brunch with my favorite girls and by far our favorite boy.

7. Watching all the Wes Anderson movies all over again with Chris. And making fun of him for not being cultured in Cinema.

6. My work out & diet routine up and running again... literally running. Yum... Cottage cheese and peanut butter.

5. Conversations with Chip. Seriously amazing. EVERY TIME.

4. Funny/serious/meaningful/incriminating text messages from a old friend I can't seem to get rid of. She's like herpes.

3. Kristin B. Lyons. Just her. Everything about her. Unless she is calling me "crazy". What's "normal" anyways?!?!

2. GIRL TALK. GIRL TALK. GIRL TALK. Best work out c.d. ever! KAT call me. I'll help you download it.

1. GRADUATION! Time for a new chapter in my life. Transitions can be the hardest times, but usually the best for me. I'm obsessed with change. So excited to see what will come for me in the next year.

Prepare to laugh, Angus Thongs and Full-Frontal Snogging!

2009-04-20T23:07:00.000-07:00

There comes a time in almost every readers life when they find out that they are reading only depressing texts. This was my time - in my life. I have been reading epic poetry all semester and on top of that, the books I have been reading for enjoyment have been even more depressing than the death of the great warrior Achilles and the annoying journey of Odysseus. I HATE HOMER. (Kris, I still haven't started my latest epic. Laugh it up.) I don't know where, or who decided that depressing literature makes the BEST literature, but the literary canon is full of depressing shit. Being an English major, for two more weeks, I am forced to fill my head and emotions with all of these texts. Let's just say I finally realized this problem and decided to go back to my roots, adolescent literature. I'm not talking about any of that horse crap books in the Twilight series or freaking Hatchet. I mean british adolescent literature. British humor! It is my absolute favorite. God save the Queen, for comedy alone.

A wonderful and beautifully humored co-worker told me about this series she had been reading. She said when she read it, "It reminded her of me." This is the one of those huge "red flag's" for me. Let me explain, it's always a "red flag" when people are either, 1) Setting me up with their friend that they think is just like me and we'd totally love hanging out. This always ends with their "perfect friend" feeling out humored and simple. Just happens. 2) blind dates. I know it's going to end badly when they say, "You guys will be perfect together!" Just so you know, for the future, no attention whore is going to want to date another attention whore. The stage is only big enough for one of us. Ya hear?!?! And finally, 3) book suggestions. I usually end up reading the suggested novel and find that I am not at all who I thought I was, but I'm actually awkward and not funny in other peoples eyes... So I usually avoid reading their "books that remind them of me". So naturally, I figured it was another depressing novel. I found I had no intentions to read it.

BUT! She kept mentioning it on the T.S.A. hotline. Since she's rad and not unattractive, I decided to take her word for it and was in search of this perfect book. Now I'm just pissed, I could not find it, why? I was looking in the wrong section at the local B & N. I was looking in the Literature section, not knowing that it was actually in the teen section. Blast. A teen book?!?! That means no sex. What a waste. I literally stopped reading the third Twilight book 3/4 of the way through because Edward "the prude" wouldn't seal the freaking deal. That Mormon author should know that no vampire is going to withhold lovin', especially if he is like half a century old and has been single in a double's world with his patch work quilt made-up hot family the whole time. Everyone around him has been getting some for years. Get. Real. Hasn't she seen that vampire movie with Brad Pitt and Tom Cruise? Sex is always the foundation.

Anyways... I'm off course. Back to my point, I have found the funniest series of adolescent literature. I have never laughed out loud so many times while reading a book. This author, Louise Rennison has absolutely mastered recreating the hilarious thoughts of a teen who is curious about her sexuality, make-up, older boys, her lesbian teacher and can't help but be completely annoyed with her family. (Is anyone else having flash back of their teen years?!?!) British humor is absolutely hilarious, because there are no boundaries and she says it how it is from a teenagers point of view. No filtering out thongs and snogging in British humor, it's a riot. If you need a laugh and a quick read, pick-up, Angus, Thongs and Full-Frontal Snogging, By Louise Rennison. I'm just starting the second book in the series called, On the Brightside, I'm Now the Girlfriend of A Sex God. Trust me, if you have a sense of humor and don't mind a cup of PG-13 humor with your crumpet, you will absolutely love this fun series.

Word Vomit

2009-04-14T22:57:00.000-07:00

My life is words-

never at a loss.

That is;

until you.

Fumbling my words-

that is utterly absurd.

Utter and mumble,

I'm completely flustered.

You've captured my tongue,

leaving me numb.

Numb, as in:

captivated-infatuated-dumb

I'm closed.

You see through me.

Preoccupied in other things;

avoid real feeling.

Look you in the eyes?

No, to revealing.

Blindness and doubt keep me from jumping.

Your smile is hopeful-perfect-tempting.

Move slow;

your movement is too inviting.

You've got me hooked,

without even casting a look.

Keep it shallow;

I'm emotionally fasting.

Don't get serious-

I just need your fix.

"Friends?", I say.

Good, this will last another day.

Howard, I think you've got a Cowgirl on your hands.

2009-04-13T12:54:00.000-07:00

This weekend after a night of extreme dancing with our friends, Swopes and I woke up to hit the open road. She was making her way to CSI to watch the mighty Bruins slap stick in a friendly game of baseball, the great American past time of course. I was on my way to the farm to meet up with family and friends for my Grandmother's 86th Birthday bash. It's always a memorable experience to talk to my Grandma about what the hell is going on in my life. She always understands and has the best comments and straight forward criticism. Hilarious. Seriously though, 86 years old and not one similar thing our generations can share in common, but good conversation and friendship. I love my Grandma Dot. Even if she says that six (Thanks D!) letter word that is no longer politically correct in any of the fifty states, when commenting on my overlarge Jordan basketball shorts I lounge in while playing catch up with her. I can talk to her for hours upon hours. Happy Birthday G-Dot. Love you doll.

It's funny to remember how much of a country girl I was when I was younger. Loved the dirt, farm life, shooting guns, riding dirt bikes and hanging out with my Dad. This trip I took a ride in our old Ford pick-up truck with Howie (my father). It was like old times, when I would sit in right next to him in the middle of his pick-up truck and admire him like he was some kind of super hero. I loved just shooting the shit and changing the water on our farm with my Pops. There is something about our families land, it has this affect on my Dad, he loves it so much and we have some of our best and most memorable conversations while driving around. He becomes my equal and my friend, not just an authority. It's been too long since I have felt that close to my Dad, I've missed it.

This weekend was a very pivotal point in my life. It's hard to know what you want in life when you are being told what is right all the time, but you are questioning everything you are told. It is good to know now that my parents support my journey to find out what I want out of life. I don't know what it is, but they always know what's going on with me and have the best advice. Love you jokers. Missed you this weekend Kat.

Dancing with Wolves... I mean Worm.

2009-04-06T23:29:00.000-07:00

This weekend was a huge success. My favorite of favorites was in town. What a great follow up to my weekend in Kentucky, a fun filled weekend with Worm. It wasn't a normal weekend for me. A miracle took place ya'll. A modern day miracle. I danced. Yes, I know. Crazy, right? For those of you who know me, I don't dance. Ever. It just can't happen. I can't like it. Until I did.

My first encounter with dancing was in middle school. Good ol' Joel P. Jensen Middle School dances were the highlight of everyone's year, but mine. So much fun for your average kid that was going through puberty and hormonal change. For me, it was my social anxieties worst nightmare. I remember dreading the shit out of having to go to the school dances every year. I felt pressured and forced to go "get jiggy wit it". So I went. My cousin Shanna banana loved watching me squirm. Our whole childhood consisted of her pressuring me to "let loose" and "just try it". She once convinced me to bring my gerbil over to her house to play with her gerbil. Her gerbil had tunnels and what was like a gerbil disneyland in its cage, my poor gerbil only had a wheel it never learned how to use. It was B.D.S. (borderline down syndrome), I swear it. After being conned into bringing my gerbil to her house, her house that was all the way around our block might I add. I quickly started making travel arrangements in my head. BAM! Got it, my mom put everything in zip-lock baggies. So naturally I put my gerbil in a cute and convenient zip-lock bag for the walk to Shanna's house. It was never just a walk with my A.D.H.D. ass, it was a sprint, skip, twirl, spin gerbil in the air and catch it kind of circus act. All I remember was her mom's reaction and facial expression, complete disgust and horror, as she swiftly put the "sleeping" gerbil in a small box, and sent me home to meet the fury of my short fused father Howie. This is the day I learned about death and how the grounding system worked and was going to work throughout my adolescent life. This isn't where the story ended though, sadly enough. This situation had to be scary enough for my parents, having to see their child suffocate the hell out of a gerbil with a zip-lock bag and not feel one ounce of guilt, but then also having a child threaten to kill the others is just a massive red flag! The next morning my mother denied me puffy cheeto's for breakfast, I confidently responded with, "Give me cheeto's, or I'll kill the other gerbil!" I was then on close watch for a couple months to make sure I wasn't a gerbil serial killer.

Shanna banana was an absolute free spirit, where I was a lil' insecure and shy. Hard to believe now, because people can't get me to shut up. It all started when Shanna found out I had a major crush on this boy named Sean, and that I couldn't dance worth a shit. Perfect opportunity for her to point and laugh, right? She disappeared into the dark/bad lighting show that filled the low budget decorated gymnasium. I'm alone. People are dancing around me and I can feel my social anxiety attacking my body and in result it is making my palms and pits sweat. My life! She returns, only to be followed by the teenage love of my life, Sean. And damn he looked good in his K-Swiss shoes and Old Navy polo and jeans. He approaches me, and asks me if he could dance with me the next slow dance. I freaked out, I didn't know how to react. So naturally I made the worst social decision for the situation, I said, "NO! I don't want to dance." Now this response doesn't seem that bad on paper, or in this case, computer screen. But my body language was impossible to misread. I looked like I was shooing a stray dog. I ruined my first slow dance and crush within seconds. Shanna couldn't stop laughing. All is fair when it comes to family embarrassing the shit out of you, right?

This weekend I finally let loose and cut that rug I've been avoiding since Middle School. Worm and me went out with some friends to dance and mingle. By the end of the night Worm was climbing off of a box she was perched up on for the sole reason that was to achieve the highest level of attention possible. I finally had my dancing shoes on and she couldn't believe it, she had to get a closer look. Pointing in shock she came down off her box to see it up close and personal. It was true. I was dancing. Mission accomplished, she actually got me to dance. I'm a natural, sorta, okay not really at all. I'm already nervous about doing it again, damn my social anxiety and lack of dancing ability and skill.

I'm Sick of Goodbyes

2009-04-01T10:20:00.000-07:00

Another successful trip back to my roots. There is something about going back to where you started that reminds you of who you are and how you got there. I have the best support system out in the Kentucky, Indiana and Tennessee area. Every time I fly out, there is this horrible fear I have that something has changed, that this trip we won't have what we had as friends. You know what I'm talking about, right? The separation that can get between you and friends over time and you can never find that same connection or chemistry you once had together. That is one of my biggest fears. We all work hard to keep this connection strong. With the e-mails, text messages, Facebook and phone calls. It's been five years and I still feel like I never left.

Once I got out there we jumped right back into what we do best, stories of old times, stories of present times, life changes and the dreaded relationships category. We can lay around for hours and play catch up. When we played college basketball at the University of Evansville, we were so tired all the time from ball that our favorite form of entertainment was laying around picking apart each others brains. This lazy form of entertainment is the reason why we know each other so incredibly well. I know the life stories of my best friends and they know mine. I even let my roommate Kim read my childhood journal! Bad idea, I have been teased about my simple, innocent and tacky personal narration of my little life for years now. As a child I had just about every allergy possible, so I had a sinus infection for a good amount of my lil life. This made me very insecure and my family didn't help much, they would always say, "Chelsea! Go blow your nose!" Kim will not let this line die. Whenever I whine about something she will quickly respond with, "Oh, Chelsea! Go blow your nose!" REAL ANNOYING! I heard it a lot this weekend.

Another funny thing is we all have different religious backgrounds. It varies from Catholic, to Baptist, to Methodist and of course to Mormon. This usually would form a gap in a friendship because it is hard to connect on a deeper level when belief systems are so different. This has never been an issue. It only brings laughter, usually on my behalf. Mormons aren't common out there. Let me fill you in with the latest, "Point and laugh at Chelsea" moment. We are at Buckheads, watching our beloved Cards get their ass's handed to them by Michigan State, and my friend Kendra is telling a story. Well our booth and the booth next to us were connected and we were jam packed in these two booths with our neighboring party because everyone was out to watch Louisville. Little background for you, Kendra has a sailor's mouth like me and so Cammie interrupted her to tell her to tone it down, or actually to shut the hell up because the party next to us doesn't wanna hear it. I kid you not, the man turns to our party and says, "Shit, I'm not Mormon. Go ahead!" My friends and I fell completely silent, only to explode with laughter. The man's reaction was confused and interested. I had to respond now, to continue the laughter and explain our response to his simple comment. I clear my Mormon throat and say, "That's alright, cause I AM!" He felt so stupid and we could not stop laughing. It seems that every time I go out there, I am the butt of a Mormon joke. It's great!

The only bad thing about seeing my friends is knowing I have to leave them. The distance is hard and I'm never happier than I am when I'm with them. There is something about friends that you know will never stab you in the back or abandon you for insecurities or drama. We aren't like a normal group of girlfriends, we actually are everlasting friends with no jealousy or drama. It's not like one of my most recent groups of friends, no one in this group will be running off with one of my old best friends to start a himalayan whistle kid family right under everyone's nose. Which is a great comfort, cause that shit just gets weird. Now that I'm back in Utah, I miss them more than ever again! It's a never ending circle of missing, freaking sucks. I'm taking matters into my own hands and throwing Louisville and Indiana State in my hat of Grad Schools. Stay tuned ya'll. I love you guys!!!

Kentucky/Indiana Top 15 Favorites

2009-03-25T21:16:00.000-07:00

15. Every time I come back it's like I never left. It's home.

14. Steak n' Shake with my favorite people.

13. My John Deere tractor sheets at the McMillin's... and pancakes on my face.

12. University of Louisville. Great basketball.

11. FROGS EVERYWHERE! Or just in butter tubs for Kim. I gave them as gifts. She would stop talking to me for days. So worth it. Pure fear is a priceless thing to witness.

10. Fire flies! We don't have them out here in Utah. Absolutely beautiful to watch at night. I remember when I first noticed them. It was kinda creepy.

9. Southern Gentleman. Best example, Kim's hot step dad, Jim. First time I saw him he was chopping down trees in a sleeveless shirt. This man is fit. I swear it was a seen taken from desperate housewives or something. Classic.

8. Ma Ma's and Pa Pa's farm and feasts. The most beautiful farm right on the Kentucky and Tennessee line. One of my favorite places ever.

7. Hardee's. LOL they still have Hardee's out there. Frisco burgers are one of the best fast food culinary accomplishment.

6. Southern Accents. Absolutely captivating. It's a danger for a girl like me.

5. Biscuits and Gravy in the morning... or every meal. I blame them for my freshman 30 lbs, that and the waffle machine at the cafeteria.

4. Brentano Hall at the University of Evansville... and all the memories.

3. BW3 wings!!!

2. The great conversation and night life with my girls, Kim, Cam and Heidi.

1. My families. I absolutely love my friends families. They always take me in. Love you guys. Can't wait to see you!

I'm so Excited, I Might Throw Up!

2009-03-20T10:43:00.001-07:00

Next Thursday I fly back to the mother land, well... not Indiana, but close enough to friends and family from my year out in Indiana. I'll be visiting one of my favorite cities in the great fifty states, LOUISVILLE KENTUCKY! I can't wait to see my first and best roommate ever Kim (Erin you were amazing too, calm down, I have more than one favorite)! And my other friends Cam Cam, K, and Seltzer. Oh and don't forget my "long lost" Jess! I have some of my best and worst memories with these girls. There isn't a day in my life when I don't reflect on my year in Evansville Indiana. These girls will always have a place in my heart.

This trip will be like all the rest of my visits. Telling stories of our college experience together, throwing bubble gum and cup cakes at ceilings, BW3's, I'll be making my layered breakfast Kim dreams about at least once a week, and late nights playing a little game of, "would you rather" with Kim. Nothing tops my offer, "Would you rather eat with your butt, or poop with your mouth?" Yeah I'm classy. You all know what you rather do. Don't hesitate.

I'm not gonna lie, I'll probably break the shit out of lent while I'm out there. Great fried foods and wings! It's inevitable. I NEED Coke, plain and simple. Kim and I were discussing how great it is that I will be out there at the same time our beloved Cardinals will be marching their way to a National title. Perfection. GO UNIVERSITY OF LOUISVILLE CARDINALS!!!

Lacking Coka~Cola in my Life

2009-03-16T23:18:00.000-07:00

There has never been a harder loss to handle in my life. It has been minutes, hours, days, and weeks since my last sip. I literally think that the absence of Coke has made me go clinically crazy. I have no tolerance for stupid people (that even includes the attractive ones now), I'm way too honest with everyone and I sleep the most odd hours during the night and day. My daily clock is jacked up now because I have been a coke addict for over 7 years. I'd like to apologize for anyone who has shopped at my store since lent started, my close family and friends, students, and for anyone I've recently decided to hate. I blame the loss of caffeine and cola. My apologies also go out to everyone who has seen a drop in their soda sales since I stopped showing up with my 32 oz cup.

I apologize to the following:

*7 Eleven
*McDonalds
*Maverick
*Sonic- "Happy Hour" just isn't the same without me, I'm sure.
*Julie-I know you have offered me Coke like 6 times and I have rudely denied it. You're my only true friend, because you offer despite my stupid endeavours. You really love me.
*Katrina & Danielle, for leaving them in their addiction alone.
*Anyone who feels bad for drinking soda around me while we eat. (Drew! Go ahead and drink that coke in front of me)
*My mental health and happiness.
*My pants that no longer cup my ass so perfectly. You'll probably be replaced sucka's.
*And last, but definitely not least COKE. We'll meet again.

Ode to the Tool

2009-03-14T10:55:00.000-07:00

The older I get the more convinced I am that 73.7% of guys are tools. One of my favorite hobbies would have to be dissecting these men. Throughout high school I felt pressured as a female to interact, chase and be attracted to this species of male. What a waste of time and energy, luckily I was never attracted to the tools. I thought something was wrong with me, nope. COMMON SENSE is beautiful when you exercise it. Ladies, don't date tools. Seriously.

How do you even define this label we call tool-age. I'm going to do my best and attempt defining "The Tool". The tool: Men who are emotionally and physically high maintenance. Attention whores. Liars. Cheaters. Have an ego on steroids. Spend over 150 dollars on all their jeans. Probably didn't graduate from high school or even attempt too. Usually practice good skin care and might spend close to 1/3 of their pay check on hair products, hair cuts, lotions and teeth whitening kits. One-up kind of guys. (for example: my truck is bigger than your truck. Competition with size is common with tools because of lack there of with their size physically). Women abusers, not always physically, but most likely verbally. This is my definition of the tool. Not attractive.

You might wonder why I would blog about such a worthless thing as a tool, but I have come in contact with so many over the past three weeks. My cup runneth over with tools. And for the first time in my life, I LOVE IT. Not loving it enough to actually date one, but they can be fun and extremely entertaining. Let me get to my point, while on a double date last night I witnessed not only a tool, but a tool chaser. You might ask what a tool chaser is and what would they be defined as. Let me assist you, a tool chasers is: a girl who has tool fever and continues to go after and give attention to these men. I like to call them the enablers and in conclusion, they are the sole reason why tools even exist in our society today. Everything in life comes down to the simple theory of supply and demand, even sex. If we stop dating tools they will eventually die off like every other worthless and threatening thing. A.K.A. dinosaurs and polio.

Last night was one of those moments where you get so excited that you do creepy witch fingers like on the Wizard of Oz and can't help but smile ear-to-ear in pure enjoyment. My date was my oldest best friend ever Weevi, or some might pronounce and call him by his baptismal name, Levi. The best part was that Weevi was just as equally excited as I was, because we are best friends and have shared the same interests since we were in diapers, our interests being: building forts, playing legos, learning about each other's anatomy and being critical of the stupid people that surround us in our everyday lives... A.k.a. TOOLS! We sat back using our eye language some might call E.S.P.. We developed this over the many years of Sunday school and time outs my mom would give us when we would trash my basement in a simple game of build the biggest damn fort physically possible using every blanket, couch and cushion my house could supply. Our imagination was endless and way too curious. I was recently updated on things I must have suppressed from my childhood to prevent myself from guilt or embarrassment. LOL. WEEVI REMEMBERS EVERYTHING! Damn elephant.

We sat back all night and watched this tool chase his prey, prey that was willing to freeze on a slope just so that the tool would still think she was cute and desirable. Before we even got on the mountain I thought this kid was Shawn White by how he was talking about his snowboarding skills to bait in his tool chaser. Be ye not so stupid ladies, usually when guys can't shut up about themselves they are so full of shit their eyes are brown. His eyes were B-R-O-W-N! This was the case, he was riding through the park hitting nothing, but when we were in the car he made it seem like he was superman. If he was a gentleman with a brain, he would cater to a girls needs and take her on runs she would enjoy, but instead he was advertising himself, TOOL. There is nothing in life more entertaining than the mating rituals of human beings. The trickery and parts we all play to lure in our prey. Priceless. LOL. What idot's humans are.

Ladies! Stop fueling the need for tools. Seriously, get some confidence and date someone who has a job and actually is a man. Supply and demand. Stop demanding and their will be no supply. Thank you.

I almost killed Lent, but I started...

2009-03-06T12:54:00.000-08:00

Lent is kicking my ass. How inconvenient it is, not being able to grab a quick bite, or have that burst of energy and happiness a glass of coke can create. I tried to cheat even! It's true, I'm admitting it to my four readers. I got a wrap at Red Robin "to go", knowing that the wrap comes with their amazing seasoned steak fries and I would probably fall into their flirtation with my tongue and stomach. After wrestling with the idea of breaking lent, I decided to get the wrap and see where the temptation would take me. The nice hostess brought me my "to go" bag and I was already starting to feel the high from breaking lent just by touching the handles of the plastic bag that was cuddling my food, so I tipped the hostess way to much and in turn received her bedroom eyes, awkwardly. Awkward and interesting what money can do to some people, right? That is beside the point though, I was off with some giddy up in my step. Headed back to work to satisfy my fat tooth. I made it to the break room, sat down infront of my lent killer, opened my "to go" white foam box only to find they screwed me over, NO FRIES!!!! Are you shittin' me. I emotionally tossed and truned, beating myself up over the fact that fries would be in this box and I would probably partake of them, all for nothing! But I can say, I'm still going strong. JACKIE be strong, no more!

If you are wondering what the "I started" means in my title, it's not my period. Why do our minds go there? Ha ha ha. After much talk and wrestling with the idea of writing a book, I have finally started it. As of March 5th, 2009, my book is under construction. What a struggle it has already been, I'm trying to get all these ideas down on paper and organize them so that I don't forget any crucial details. It's killing me already and it has just been a day. I'm bouncing around like crazy, which is normal for me. For all of those who will recongnize bits and pieces of yourself within my book. I'm sorry if I misinterpret details. Realize it is fiction and you are just inspiration for my characters within it. And always remember, there is no narrator or interpretation we can trust as a reader, sometimes not even our own interpretations. That's why reading and writing is such a personal thing. I love writing, and I hope you guys love reading. Thanks for everything!

Ash Wednesday=Death Wednesday

2009-03-01T21:15:00.001-08:00

Every year some people decide to make a new years resolution, I laugh at these people, consistently, every year. Honestly, who can actually give something up that long that they love or be consistent enough to accomplish a year long task?!?! That is 365 days of pure agony in most cases. For example, if you give up some of your favorite things such as Coca~cola, candy, trashy reality television or Kare bear's chocolate chip cookies. I myself have never even attempted to fail at a new years resolution. Why hurt my own feelings with failure? Which brings me to another concern lately, why do we set ourselves up for failure?!?! This seems to be a human trend. There are some people who are always attracted to the impossible or most complicated people and situations. I find myself falling into this category more often then not. But I have come to my conclusion... BABY STEPS.

My baby step for a new years resolution is the widly celebrated Catholic lent. I can handle 40 days and 40 nights, (unless it was my 2005 promise to stop swearing/cussing/cursing/making everyone around me laugh a lot) instead of the dreadful 365 days of a new years resolution, also known as the year long commitment of hell. This lent discovery and fasination all started my freshman year of college, I was blessed to have the most amazing roommate and life long best friend Kimmy. I have always been completely mesmerized and captivated by intelligent people my whole life. Kim is by far the smartest smarty pants I've ever met, although my Pappas is neck n' neck with her, both so incredibly intelligent. They are my two science super nerds. I like to think I balance them out by using the other side of the brain, but I can't compete. All I can say is, when your roommate can memorize an entire medical terminolgy text book in one night and diagnose every creepy quirk about you, which might include your sweety palms, deviated septum and social anxiety, you've got to take her seriously. And this diagnoses of hers also triggered the social anxiety of mine, SO EMBARRASSING! I then and there decided to believe every damn word she said without the blink of an eye. She introduced me to lent and all of its rules and regulations, I then decided to give up Coke (the only love of my life) for the alloted time she instructed, watched her get an ash cross stamped on her forehead by a unattractive priest and I was sold. Lent became my sprint version of the new years resolution. My own person baby step to make myself think I'm moving forward and might actually have some self-discipline.

For those of you who didn't know, ash wednesday was this past wednesday. I was informed by Kim tuesday night that we would be struggling for the next 40 days and nights to give up something we both hold dearest in our lives... Food. Not all food of course, we're not freaking Gaundi. Thank hevens, by the way, I've given up sex until marriage, no way in hell I'm giving it up for the rest of my life, what a tard Gaundi could be at times. I mean really, who doesn't fight back or have sex? Although his wife did seem fine with the decision on sexual abstinence, which says a hell of a lot about their sex life anyways, right? Anyways... I decided I needed moral support at the home front because Kim is a resident of the great state of Kentucky and can't boss me around on a daily basis anymore, so I rallied some friends together. My Jack Jack, Mighty Mouse and swobes are joining me in giving up fast food, as much fried foods as possible and we are only drinking diet soda's... if any soda's at all. Mighty Mouse has also added the personal challenge of no candy, this girl is like Willy Wonka! She freaking loves her candy, no exaggeration. It's been 5 days and I'm living it strong Lance Armstrong style, not feeling any fatigue yet. Pray for me, this one is going to be a cruel endeavor. Does anyone else give up something for lent? Let me know how it's going for you. And Kim, Jack Jack, Mighty Mouse and Swobes... be strong!

Fun Lists

2009-02-22T20:57:00.000-08:00

Who/What NOT to take Seriously:

*Anyone who still wears a scrunchy.

*Robinson humor. Especially in our blogs. Don't beat yourself up, we mean well. Janet.

*Any of the Fast and the Furious movies. That includes Paul Walker himself.

*Orem/Provo ideologies or traditions.

*Anyone who text messages over 25,000 texts a month.

*Women's college basketball coaching staffs.

*Sports Authority's BigFoot competition and all that boo shit.

*The "For Sale" sign in my parents front yard. They're not going anywhere. No worries.

*Danielle Swopes.

Some of my current favorite things:

*Down sizing from the 7 Eleven "Big Gulp" to just the "Gulp". My own version of dieting.

*Phase 10 with my Jack Jack and Mighty Mouse.

*Taylorsville High School's faculty. (They still remember every embarrassing thing about me)

*Tempting text messages. I'm a Robinson girl... it's in my blood.

*Melba's bag of assorted candies!

*Nights out with Gooey.

*Beef Sticks and boarding with Foote. That includes her hilarious text messages. All-time favorites.

*Phone calls with Kimmy McMillin.

*Tanning, even if the staff at my salon ranges from 17 year old mega hoe's to arab men with gold chains. I'm currently looking for a new salon, it's just so hard to part with their bulbs there. Decisions! I hate them.

*Advice from a wise older sister, while making a sonic run and doing drive by's of ex-boyfriend's houses. Real immature... we know, and don't care.

*Kristin B. Lyons humor and her sexual interpretations & theory on people and about life.

*Karebear's stash of homemade cookies she left me before ditching me for another daughter's company.

*The food network and H.O.U.S.E. with Hollie Hansen.

Things I sorta miss:

*Working with my Jack Jack.

*Indiana/Kentucky life.

*Kat close.

*Queen size bed and all its visitors. Get your mind outta the gutter, not those kind of visitors.

*Talks with Kayla about anything and everything.

*My athletic ability.

*Brentano 309.

*Hanging out with Boo Bear every single day.

*No Doubt. Get back together already.

*Good saturday morning cartoons. I'm not impressed with the new stuff. Where did all the violence go?

*Music videos on MTV.

Getting Settled in.

2009-02-10T15:11:00.001-08:00

I am starting to find an interesting trend in making life changes. I tend to move around a lot, change jobs, or find new circles of friends to spend my time with. This might just be my personality, or maybe just an addiction I have that helps me to not get too comfortable or attached. Funny thing is, I always get comfortable and attached. I fail miserably. My own personal opinion is that I might have social A.D.D., KIMMY is that even a legit diagnosis? What I mean by that is, I enjoy a variety of people or scenes, and become incredibly uncomfortable if I don't get my freedom. Change has been made and it's been extremely satisfying.

A good example of this is my college career. I went to four different colleges, who does that, especially if they still don't have their bachelors degree?...April baby, I finally get that degree we all thought would never come. Why did I change colleges so freaking much... because I got bored, felt trapped, overwhelmed by commitment and kicked off basketball teams! Yes, once it wasn't my choice to leave ha ha ha, but an extremely entertaining experience. My trend has been noticed by close ones and brought to my attention on many occasions. One of my best friends, who I have nicknamed Worm for certain personality characteristics that have been proven wrong over the years, says that I play muscial chairs with my friends. Never getting too close or comfortable with a certain friend, or just loving to feel popular is probably her biggest argument. These are both true statements. I love people, attention and whatever else comes along with having random friends. Another close friend says to me the other night, "You hide your emotions with humor and laughs to avoid getting serious or attached, but there is a deeper side to you that only few get to know." Now I don't know if that's all true, but I do tend to avoid my feelings by laughing at them to down play their significance. In the last couple months I broke these personality traits and got royally screwed by showing emotion and getting too close to friends. Why should anyone ever get attached or be emotionally honest if nearly no one is trustworthy? Moral to this story is, change your friends and change your location, but don't change who you are. Hide behind humor and laugh your ass off with a bunch of friends instead of just a few. :)

One thing I have noticed with all my moves and changes, is that you always seem to find the right types of people to help you get situated and comfy in your new environment. Almost like it is destiny you meet these people at this exact point in your life. You are practically spoon fed answers to all your questions about yourself through these people. It could quite possibly be human instinct to seek out or rekindle friendships with the people you wish you could have been in your lastest life chapter. They teach you new qualities and views on life that are priceless and absolutely what you need to survive another day. I've been blessed to have found one or two new/old friends that have helped me along the way and given me new qualities to adopt as my own. We all eventually want to be our better "self" and develope ourselves for the next chapter and relationships in our lives. Being genuine and honest are qualities that are hard to come by. I'm so glad I've found and have had people close who are perfect definitions of these traits.

Finally unpacked... Miracle on Williamsburg Circle.

2009-02-08T19:06:00.000-08:00

It's been about three weeks since I made the move back home to Howie and Karebear's stack of bricks. I hadn't unpacked one box until today, Sunday February 8, 2009. I've just been living out of suitcase that included a couple outfits, work clothes, bathroom supplies and of course my most recent read, Middle Sex. Sometimes it helps to avoid reality that way, by acting like you are on a vacation. It's true though, I'm back at the parents. It's actually been a lot of fun living at home and seeing new and old friends. Many advantages come from living in the City of Salt, for example the drive from Salt Lake to Orem in the middle of the night no longer has to be made, which gives me a higher percentage rate for living through 2009, and for that I am thankful. And I no longer have to choose from three places to eat lunch, VARIETY!!! I've missed good Mexican food and normal people.

As most of you have read, I've been attempting to play a little ball the past couple weeks. For those of you who know me best, I know it's an awful idea. Be ready on the other end of the phone to hear me vent through all my past experiences and how basketball has not only destroyed my sanity, but quite possibly ruined my life. Anyways... My rec team is still the shit. We are untouchable and incredibly humble, as you can see. This past week we played the shim's (she-him) team, Jerry or I mean Carey. We came out with another dub. I actually scored this game, so my confidence is coming back one game at a time, which is helping my sanity.

This is not the end of my basketball week though. My Sports Authority partner in crime Jack Jack made me join her in a sisterly game of church basketball up at the U of U institute building. In my 16 or some odd years of playing organized basketball, I have never been so physically abused. I was informed by our team captain that the team we were playing had not lost a game in three years and that they had been rubbing it in all the wards faces. This was disheartening to hear, being that we are all children of God and that shit talking should not be aloud in church basketball, just doesn't seem kosher or Christian. So I felt it was Jack Jack's and my job to humble their ass's. We came back from their nine point lead at half time and beat them by nine. This was not pleasing to the other team, probably because they know we aren't in the girls ward we are playing with, and we totally pulled the "we're investigators of the church" card to allow us to play a little hoop. Cheating? Maybe. With about a minute left, this relief society looking skank charged at me closed fisted and angry and ends up jacking me in my lip, leaving me with a bruised face and a lip that was split open deep enough for stitches... too bad I don't have insurance or teeth. I will forever look funny. I learned my lesson once again, and that is, humbling people can be dangerous and painful, so just leave it to God or karma.

Since I've been home, getting up to The Canyons or The Bird to snowboard has been easier, and travel time has been cut in half. This past week THE FOOTE and I had some great experiences up on our favorite run 9990. This Friday there was a fresh bowl of pow up to our knees. MIRACLES do happen! We haven't had fresh snow in weeks. We were like kids in a candy shop, or pervs at a elementary school playground. Ducking the rope is a risk always taken when the powder is fresh and untouched. Although we have been a little freaked out since the week prior to this amazing snow fall, we were actually caught by ski patrol and smacked on the wrist for not making the 13 minute hike that is required for backcountry riders. Meh... whatever. We're addicts, we'll do what we have to to get what we want. Other than the fact that FOOTE did an unintentional flip and I almost got stabbed in the chest by a branch that was convinently as sharp as a spear and aiming for my heart. We were safe and will live to ride another day.

Recreational Fun!

2009-01-29T21:52:00.000-08:00

With each and every week I find myself enjoying basketball more and more. STRANGE! I KNOW. This could be due to one of two things. One being, I might like it more because my teammates actually talk to me this season or reason two could be because my skills are slowly and surely starting to re-enter my limbs. I'm not going to go as far as saying my skills are back, but I did actually score some points this week. Which, sadly enough is success in itself.

On a more serious note, the Scorpions are 3-0 and unstopable. I dont mean to be cocky, but I'm saying this because our performance this week shows our ability to roll with the punches and stay on our toes in complicated situations, for instance... only having 4 players on our team this week. You might think I'm joking, I'm not joking, this is too serious of a subject. We were missing an entire body. Our team manager Mighty Mouse failed to inform last weeks MVP of our game (she's not important or anything), that we had a match Wednesday night at 7:30 at Milcreek, the most ghetto ass gym by the way. It's so gross, I actually witnessed a woman changing her babies stinky diaper on the baseline. Really? Not cool.

We arrived 43 seconds before tip off. One player short, and a teammate who will remain nameless, needed to use the ladies room and wouldn't shut up about it the entire drive to the gym. Sadly enough she had stage fright because of the poorly kept bathroom. Damn sanitation awareness and the fact that it has been engraved in most middle class American's minds. Ugh... she was forced to hold it. Then I felt pressured not to pee because she thought it was to gross... Ugh also forced to hold it. I seriously hate peer pressure sometimes. Not only have I lost my skills on the court, but I have to focus on not peeing my shorts too! What a stressful forty minutes I had ahead of me.

We started with four, and almost finished with three, because Chipper couldn't stop cheating, a.k.a. fouling. She got caught everytime! If you are going to foul, you have to make it cheaper and not so noticeable champ. I swear you went to Kearns High School... don't they teach you how to steal shit and stomp on faces out there? You should be able to get away with some fouls deary. And I know I tried to wrap around tip the ball from that fat girl and just takled her, that is beside the point. At Taylorsville High School they taught us how to cheap shot our way into the state finals with finess and class. Winning is winning, right? Take some notes losers.

In the end the four stunna's pulled off a dub. All that matters is winning, don't ever listen to or believe any of that good sportsmanship or just have fun bull crap they tell you, winning is the only thing that matters in basketball and in life for that matter. We don't mess around on our Wednesday nights. Mighty Mouse, Chipper, Maine Thang and The Toothless Virgin showed up with their game faces and took some house mom's names. Out numbered and with potty complications, we survived another week at Milcreek.

Home Again... And looking for one bedroom apartment!

2009-01-25T20:05:00.000-08:00

There seems to be a trend in my moving pattern as an adult. I move out into a new environment and living situation, "learn my lessons" as most older and wiser people would say (or just Jac Jac), and then pack up and eventually end up back home to gather myself... and in this case, pick my dumb ass back up. There is always a comfort in surrounding yourself with the people who actually love and care about you. These environments are hard to come by, and in my experience, you only find a few people who actually stand for what they are portraying to everyone. And some people can lose what makes themselves beautiful and not even realize it, sometimes just for a couple weeks, months, years or even forever if they don't get ahold of themselves soon enough. I haven't been the best me lately, I'm in transit to finding that part of me I've lost recently.

Last couple months have been a shit storm of emotions, stress, school and shitty people. Being a girl can be such a curse sometimes. Our emotions are SO out of wack, but that's not the worst part about being a girl, the worst part is having friends that ARE girls. I feel like the last couple of weeks I have been cast in a role for the sequel to the movie "Mean Girls". Unlucky for me, I didn't win the star role of the "alpha bitch" Regina George, there was a more qualified canidate for that role. No, I was just a bitch! You know the dumb girl in "Mean Girls" that can tell the weather with her boobs?!?! Yeah I was that dumb girl, although I can't tell the weather with my boobs, they do get complimented a lot lately (Mighty Mouse is still laughing it up I'm sure). I was the stupidest girl of all, which thank God isn't the case all the time. I was naive to everything going on around me, and I just kept playing into the perfectly set up traps around me. Although the most interesting fact about this situation is, for the first time in my life being dumb was actually an advantage. I didn't win the "little bitch" position this time... You know what I'm talking about, every Disney villain has their "little bitch" who serves as their own personal worker bee. Perfect example being Jafar and that annoying ass parrot, all parrots are good for is mimicking the ass speaking. My lose is my biggest gain, I'm free from the games, the drama and most of all the back biting bull shit. If at one moment you think someone who is loyal to no one in their life, actually see's you differently, then you are by far the biggest dreamer I know.

I have been a critical, judgemental, shit talking, unhappy "Mean Girl" the last couple months. I ignored all my good friends concerns in my change of character and proceeded to act in a way I knew was all to familiar from years before. Change came in reaction to my environment, and for that I sincerely apologize to friends and family I neglected. It truely is an amazing thing to watch yourself shed the skin of someone you once were, even for the second time around. The past month I have seen people in my life moved around like chess pieces, myself included. Then quickly turned against one another and used for the gain of others. Why is it that the poeple who are the least loyal and honest with us we find the most attractive? We eventually lose ourself trying to keep them close and end up mimicking their behavior. Mimicry is the highest form of flattery...How embarrassing.

Finally, I got a moment to step back and look at the disaster I had helped create, I thought that I was happy. Happiness is not tearing down others around you to make yourself feel more adiquet. It's not about being the most wanted, powerful or manipulative person. My heart is softening again, I can feel, I can love blindly and I can see people for who they are, not for what they offer me.

Therapy... We all need it

2009-01-20T19:27:00.000-08:00

Numbness fills my every thought.

Hidden by a smile-my inability to feel.

You were there to keep my unstable mind still.

You're not a sip, syringe, or pill.

My eyes have been opened and unpeeled.

All addicts become incapable to feel.

So what'd I feel? High-Content-Real?

God, I hate rhyming- I need a thought to mess up my timing.

I'm too numb to think freely-

Trapped without passions or feeling- Why'd you leave me?

You were always reliable to sort out my insecurities.

Thoughts become words-sentences-theory.

I feel manic-highest to my lowest in an instant,

why can't you just be consistent!

Believing thoughts, words and people-

our hearts the only honest speaker.

One day I'll be free of my indecision.

Even if the cut off isn't my decision.

I'll always be true to how I feel-

Promise- Promise: My writing will heal.

-Chelsea Robinson

Only because this subject was requested

2009-01-20T09:42:00.000-08:00

Ever winter I fall into the same trap, year after year I join a basketball team in hopes that this year might be different than the last! I might actually enjoy THIS experience. I made a promise to myself that I was done playing ball after my summer league, although that league actually made for some great blogs and laughs amongst my friends and teammates. Peer pressure gets the best of me when it comes to basketball, always has. Friends continue to influence me to play out of my best interest. You'd think I'd know it was a bad idea play when I am too stiff to bend over and tie my own Jordans, and then when I finally get them tied, I'm already fatigued cause I haven't ran since August and my lungs have decided never to overwork again. I ignored all the signs, like I always do. I crossed the out of bounds line and proceeded against my better judgement.

My biggest sign was when my two teammates tried to force me, the one with the mullet, to wear a headband in our upcoming embarrassment, and by our embarrassment I mean MINE! I declined that offer in hopes that I could save some dignity. We all know headbands are out! I even know that, and I've been out of the scene for awhile, wait... Coach K, when did you dismiss me from your closet, I mean office with force? Oh yeah it's been about 13 1/2 months since the BEST coach in history of making bad decisions kicked me off her team because of her insecurities. Hey! Coach by the way, my therapist wants to use you for a case study, you have my number if you are interested, let me know. She thinks it'd benefit most college athletes that are extremely frustrated and unhappy.

Fact is I went into this league, with friends I'm trying so incredibly hard to be cool in front of, knowing that I was extremely out of shape. I know that my present physical condition was going to be a frustrating factor because I haven't ran or shot a ball since our last game in August. You know it's a not a good sign when your first couple times down the floor you are trying to teach yourself how to run again. Snowboarding restrains my ankles in a 90 degree angle, and snowboarding has been my only means of exercise for the past month and a half. My legs felt absolutely retarded running and jumping around. I was embarrassed for them. I'll stick to snowboarding, save my legs the embarrassment, and while I'm apologizing to them, I'm sorry for neglecting my tan too, I didn't think I'd be wearing shorts in public this winter!

Basketball is not like riding a bike. Whoever used that analogy with everything should be shot in the face. I hate them and their words. I was playing against mom's and rejects that probably never played high school varsity or college ball and they were running circles around my ass. Everyone on my team had the most outstanding showing in recreational basketball history. I swear I remember Chipper throwing it down at least three times and Mighty Mouse shot over 100% from the arch. I, for the first time in my life was forced to play defense because I shot 0% from the floor and the line. Air balling one if I remember the most embarrassing night of my life correctly. God is telling me something, isn't he? Will one of my Mormon friends call me and let me know why I'm not being blessed athletically anymore. Please, zero points in a recreational basketball game is a huge omen for my life. I'm up for any translations of these events that have taken place in my life. I'll be waiting for a call.

Poetry Attempt... Don't judge, I'm a beginner

2009-01-11T23:41:00.000-08:00

What's happened to me?

Has there ever been me?

For years I couldn't see;

what has built and created me.

Seeing life with a disconnection.

Have I ever had my own perception?

Using paths of deconstruction-

making an unnatural connection.

Starting with a new foundation-

my thoughts are moving in formation.

Progression thought to have forward motion;

but no one is moving in the same direction.

No words for my belief regression;

only revelation of personal progression.

-Chelsea Robinson

WORDS

2009-01-05T23:29:00.000-08:00

My life for the last couple of semesters has been words. I live, think, create and express myself through my words. My mind has been racing thinking about the words and works I have studied. Looking back on all the complicated and intricate literature I have been deconstructing and enjoying over the last year or so, I have come to the conclusion that no matter what classic novel I read or theorist's essay, no one's words will be as complicated as the people I interact with in my day to day life. I'm actually at a loss of words trying to figure people out. I rarely have a loss of words.

What environmental pressure or social construct pressured people to feel as though they need to say what they don't mean?!? I suppose we all have said little white lies to potentially gain some sort of reward or status. I've learned that even people we could potentially trust with our life, probably don't mean what they say to us, because they don't understand the power and meaning of the words they use. But we tend to believe everything they say with a whole heart. I'm sure you can relate as a reader in some way to this abusive weapon we call our language. This human flaw of saying words we don't actually mean seems to be more frequent then not. That's reassuring, right?

I remember saying in the past, "words are just words. They really don't mean anything". This was before I became an English major and realized that languages and words are the systems that have created every single social construct we live by and our societies today. Language and words are the most powerful thing we can possess in my opinion. Being able to use your specific language correctly and effectively can be the most remarkable tool you can possess in your lifetime.

So why are so many people neglecting this gift of communication and expression? It boggles my mind to think about how many people do not know how to communicate or express how they are truly feeling through words that actually mean something and hold weight. Words are not just words at all. I was a complete dumb ass to ever say such an ignorant thing. They symbolize so much more than just the letters and the sounds they create. Words can be the rise or fall of someone's emotions, the end or beginning of a friendship, or the only way to truly express how you feel to someone else. Words can change someone's entire world and the way they see it. Words aren't to be handled lightly, but with the upmost care and delicacy.

For those of you who have read the book, The Four Agreements, one of the agreements is to be impeccable with your words. (If you haven't read this book, you should.) I've found that now more then ever I need to be impeccable with my words. Knowing the effect my words can have on others is a frightening thing to come to terms with. Sometimes it does take being the victim of untruthful words to know the power within them. Self-reflection can be a bitch and it always seems to come when you've fallen, never when you're up. Words are dangerous and beautiful.

End to Writers Block

2009-01-04T09:14:00.001-08:00

It has been forever since I've posted a blog. I know, I'm sorry. For those of you that actually follow this nonsense, forgive me. I've had an incredible case of writers block that has driven me to the more poetic side of Chelsea. Which is scary, my mood has changed and I see the world like a disturbed non-social literary student. I thought about posting some of my poetry, but not everyone enjoys poetry, especially shitty poetry. I'll spare you.

Things have been crazy lately. I'm not absolutely sure, but I'm PRETTY sure that my father, A.K.A. Howie Dutch, cut me of financially today when I got home from snowboarding and I asked him yet again for some rent money. I think his exact words were, "Last time Chels. Time to start acting like a 23 year old." My main argument is, if you were to subtract the years of "real life" paralyzing college basketball, which is four years, that really only makes me 19 in the real world. I am like a baby! Making me financially retarded. It's a good thing basketball taught me to bust through walls and never give up... wait... I quit two teams and got kicked off one. What did it teach me?!?! The "RENTS" better make room, moving back home might be inevitable.

For those of you who have worked an eight dollar an hour job, you might relate to this next glimpse of my life. I've come to the realization that my job could be the most frustrating thing for me to wrap my mind around. I actually came to the understanding that my job consists of cleaning up after adults. I work at a sporting goods store, Sports Authority to be exact. "Dedicated to the Dedicated" is our motto. I am NOT "Dedicated to the Dedicated". I'd say 97.5% of our customers are adults. They have NO shopping etiquette!!! I clean up after adults day after day for eight dollars an hour. The apparel pad of our store is like 40% percent of the store. For eight dollars an hour I am suppose to keep that much of our entire store clean and presentable. Seems easy enough being that adults should know how to clean up after themselves, especially in public places. WRONG! And women are the worst! I'm asking readers to start shopping like an actual adult. Shopping etiquette is not an illusion, it exists... USE IT!

To top of my Sports Authority experience, I have a story. My friend and roommate, T.R.E. came into visit me. We get two fifteen minute breaks. I decide to take my break and join her in the food court. Well my management has trouble functioning without me there to clean and open the fitting room, two things they are more than capable of doing themselves for fifteen minutes. They couldn't find me or cope with the fact that I was gone, so they got pissed. It was a really busy night at the store, but don't worry they had time to go watch the film and mark down exactly when I left and came back from my break. Eight minutes over the fifteen! MY BAD. That's not the best part though, this is the kicker, they actually made me sign a paper taking that eight minutes away from my hours for this coming pay period. I'm not great, or even good at math, but they might have saved themselves a dollar or less. They need a promotion! While they were in the back hundreds of dollars of goods were quite possibly stolen, but they saved that 79 cents off my pay check!!!

Sometimes I think my life is make believe and at any moment I will finally wake-up. This is not the case, this is it, my life. Change is needed and confidence is back. The last couple months of my life have been some of my best and worst. Growing and stretching as a person is an amazing phenomenon we all experience. I still can't believe how much we can develop and push ourselves. People seem to be our best and our worst possessions. Finding the ones who are genuine and real is the biggest gift in life. To find a couple real friends makes a life successful. I'm thankful for my friends that live up to this description. Love you guys.

Social Suicide...My life.

2008-10-26T22:23:00.000-07:00

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.

2008-10-06T10:03:00.000-07:00

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!

2008-09-18T23:04:00.000-07:00

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.

2008-09-02T19:59:00.000-07:00

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!!!

2008-08-21T14:04:00.000-07:00

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?

2008-08-15T14:21:00.000-07:00

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!

2008-08-05T08:55:00.000-07:00

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.

2008-07-29T18:27:00.000-07:00

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.

2008-07-22T22:51:00.000-07:00

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.

2008-07-20T09:00:00.000-07:00

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.

2008-07-16T23:01:00.000-07:00

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

2008-07-15T22:31:00.000-07:00

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.

2008-07-14T20:06:00.000-07:00

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.

2008-07-13T20:31:00.000-07:00

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.