tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-53241544469505906592024-03-12T17:18:53.087-06:00Celeste"Wise men talk because they have something to say; fools, because they have to say something."
- PlatoClestialhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04159894157033229754noreply@blogger.comBlogger89125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5324154446950590659.post-5433268126315947372012-08-15T20:33:00.002-06:002012-08-15T20:33:35.045-06:00new blog!<div style="text-align: center;">
I apologize for this blog's failure. Please keep up with us at my our new blog!!</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
welooksharp.blogspot.com</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Much love, y'all.</div>
Clestialhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04159894157033229754noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5324154446950590659.post-49448037825872374962012-01-22T14:47:00.000-07:002012-01-22T14:47:17.528-07:00The Man and the Beard<div style="text-align: center;">For those of you who haven't seen Brandon lately, he's been looking more and more like this guy: </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4jb_8htPB3M/TxyAV3zNxhI/AAAAAAAAASk/03ru592_kec/s1600/Chuck-S4-Morgan-Grimes-100311.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4jb_8htPB3M/TxyAV3zNxhI/AAAAAAAAASk/03ru592_kec/s1600/Chuck-S4-Morgan-Grimes-100311.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Today we decided to rid of the excess hair on the face.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5Oa3gnJ3l3w/TxyAl6Q4CPI/AAAAAAAAASs/4cAubH7zv4o/s1600/1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5Oa3gnJ3l3w/TxyAl6Q4CPI/AAAAAAAAASs/4cAubH7zv4o/s320/1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Before we began, Brandon wanted to get a picture of the thickness.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-B9pa0DABgGQ/TxyA44SgyQI/AAAAAAAAAS0/gfvYAnoCOHs/s1600/2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-B9pa0DABgGQ/TxyA44SgyQI/AAAAAAAAAS0/gfvYAnoCOHs/s320/2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-peg3RohzzKw/TxyA59srxhI/AAAAAAAAAS8/MoLXmaL43ls/s1600/3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-peg3RohzzKw/TxyA59srxhI/AAAAAAAAAS8/MoLXmaL43ls/s320/3.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">Then he trimmed it up all nice.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-kFdsvKmQQng/TxyA7tQo0XI/AAAAAAAAATE/aD8AWlh6MoM/s1600/4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-kFdsvKmQQng/TxyA7tQo0XI/AAAAAAAAATE/aD8AWlh6MoM/s320/4.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">We started off with a Biker Beard.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_EglXqsCoNI/TxyA9PrM7PI/AAAAAAAAATM/UAtDMu_fdgM/s1600/5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_EglXqsCoNI/TxyA9PrM7PI/AAAAAAAAATM/UAtDMu_fdgM/s320/5.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">Brandon forgot about the mole on his chin and forgot to be cautious. Ouch!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-SLP4nQc9pJ4/TxyA-STr5LI/AAAAAAAAATU/idTIZ3Cs__8/s1600/6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-SLP4nQc9pJ4/TxyA-STr5LI/AAAAAAAAATU/idTIZ3Cs__8/s320/6.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-IsbFwDpUlP8/TxyA_6YzZ4I/AAAAAAAAATc/g_sXH1asJ4M/s1600/7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-IsbFwDpUlP8/TxyA_6YzZ4I/AAAAAAAAATc/g_sXH1asJ4M/s320/7.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Brandon was feeling ska-licious, so we went for the big chops and mega-soul patch!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6lepLGCRkE8/TxyBA5QRGLI/AAAAAAAAATk/G6DZrOEQYOI/s1600/8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6lepLGCRkE8/TxyBA5QRGLI/AAAAAAAAATk/G6DZrOEQYOI/s320/8.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">All he needs now is his trumpet. </div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-yjJ-HUJoF1Y/TxyBCDXzdJI/AAAAAAAAATs/A70xLcuvOO4/s1600/9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-yjJ-HUJoF1Y/TxyBCDXzdJI/AAAAAAAAATs/A70xLcuvOO4/s320/9.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zLeZ8JdF-VI/TxyBDWKG4mI/AAAAAAAAAT0/wDUe2iPP_7w/s1600/10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zLeZ8JdF-VI/TxyBDWKG4mI/AAAAAAAAAT0/wDUe2iPP_7w/s320/10.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Not sure what to call this one. Maybe just "The Awesome One". </div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vLLec14HHFk/TxyBE4l7edI/AAAAAAAAAT8/jr3fTBC0Ebo/s1600/11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vLLec14HHFk/TxyBE4l7edI/AAAAAAAAAT8/jr3fTBC0Ebo/s320/11.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-NgnrLczkjbI/TxyBGEOHTYI/AAAAAAAAAUE/1jZdvTvGPcI/s1600/12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-NgnrLczkjbI/TxyBGEOHTYI/AAAAAAAAAUE/1jZdvTvGPcI/s320/12.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Finally... The 'stache. </div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-oKFqBipNxOg/TxyBHAuXumI/AAAAAAAAAUM/tj0U0KaMilc/s1600/13.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-oKFqBipNxOg/TxyBHAuXumI/AAAAAAAAAUM/tj0U0KaMilc/s320/13.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Ahh!! He's too sexy! </div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-S5bzObJzrEU/TxyBIoYQcoI/AAAAAAAAAUU/1oiyi0tiu8o/s1600/14.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-S5bzObJzrEU/TxyBIoYQcoI/AAAAAAAAAUU/1oiyi0tiu8o/s320/14.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Reading a little Bronte.. </div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-N1LMtmGNe4k/TxyBJluVvdI/AAAAAAAAAUc/qEVfaU_fInY/s1600/15.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-N1LMtmGNe4k/TxyBJluVvdI/AAAAAAAAAUc/qEVfaU_fInY/s320/15.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">And Dracula! with a nice glass of Chateau Lafitte (1787)</div><div style="text-align: center;">So posh.</div>Clestialhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04159894157033229754noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5324154446950590659.post-49378205605052234572011-06-30T13:56:00.000-06:002011-06-30T13:56:37.563-06:00This Life is Not a Chick Flick!<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Which is actually a good thing..</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">(Disclaimer: Most of you probably already know all of this. It's just what's been on my mind, and I wanted to figure out how to say it. Besides, I figure it's been so long since I updated this that no one will see it anyway.. So here we go!)</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Reasons (referring to the title):</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">1--<b>On</b></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">e "Happy Ending" will usually invite another problem.</span></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-weight: normal;"><div style="display: inline !important; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">In movies, there's the typical story line we're taught in Elementary school. There's the intro, the rising issues, the climax, and the resolved ending. From there on out it's blue skies and sunshine! It's pretty satisfying.</span></div></span></span></b></span></span></span></b></div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-weight: normal;"><div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">In LIFE, it's not that simple. Unfortunately.</span></div></span></span><div style="font-weight: bold; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><div style="display: inline !important; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">As soon as one issue is resolved, another will undoubtedly arrive. It's supposed to be that way. We aren't supposed to be comfortable in this life. It's how we learn, adapt, grow, mature, and prepare for the life after this one! Isn't that marvelous?!</span></div></span></span></b></span></div><div style="font-weight: bold; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><div style="display: inline !important; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div></span></span></b></span></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"></span></b></div><div style="display: inline !important; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">2--</span>One person's "love" is another persons.. something else.</span></span></b></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"></span></div><div style="display: inline !important; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">This is a new realization for me, and it makes me ridiculously happy.</span></span></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"></span></div><div style="display: inline !important; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">In movies, after two people fall in love they seem to know exactly how the other person feels, their actions are natural, and they almost always get married after a year or so. It seems almost thoughtless.</span></span></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">In LIFE, it's a little different.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Love means so many different things to EVERY SINGLE PERSON.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">It's tough to explain, but I think this quote says it best:</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><i>"Just because someone doesn't love you the way you want them to, doesn't mean they don't love you with all they have" </i>(Author Unknown)</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I guess what I want to say is this: Don't expect too much from the people you love. My mom always says "Give 90%, Expect 10%".</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">If you don't have </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">preconceived notions of how your darling and dear should treat you, you can't be disappointed. And it's more likely they'll surprise you with their own unique and fabulous way of showing how much they care about you. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">It makes me feel fabulous when I realize that my relationship with my fiance is COMPLETELY new and unique.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">3-- <b>Even love takes HARD WORK.</b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">In movies, after the main character falls in love, all the issues fall away. They can live in a happy stupor for the rest of their lives.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">In LIFE, I feel like my life is FINALLY beginning!</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">It's going to be awesome.... and extremely hard.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I get to share the rest of my life with someone who wants nothing more than to be with me. That's probably the greatest feeling in the entire world.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">However, our respective lives have been COMPLETELY different up to this point. It's going to be a struggle to mesh them together, make compromises and sacrifices, until we can finally get to the point where we know every minimal thing about each others quirks and preferences. I'm excited for that. :D</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Also, it's much easier said than done to be completely selfless.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">That's definitely something I think I'll always need to work on. For now, I'll start with my fiance. I'll focus on putting his needs and desires before my own. After I master that I can move on to the rest of the world.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I absolutely LOVE this time of my life. It's stressful, exhausting, and a little bit scary. But I love to feel like I'm progressing. I love that my selfish time is over and I can learn how to use my life to serve others. Yippeeeee!!!!</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Also, if anyone knows of any nice, inexpensive apartments for rent in the murray/midvale area, will you give me the info? Thanks. :D</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"></div>Clestialhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04159894157033229754noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5324154446950590659.post-31790888943330883182011-02-04T22:59:00.000-07:002011-02-04T22:59:08.425-07:00Ode to Brody<div align="center"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">'member this super-rad guy?</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_j8_WsmHO-r0/TUzlA0be7_I/AAAAAAAAASU/66F9eaFjatk/s1600/brody.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><img border="0" h5="true" height="221" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_j8_WsmHO-r0/TUzlA0be7_I/AAAAAAAAASU/66F9eaFjatk/s320/brody.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Due to my idiocy.. I ran into one of these bad boys about a week ago:</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_j8_WsmHO-r0/TUzlFQNTdDI/AAAAAAAAASc/5cY2pNwqNr4/s1600/bus.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><img border="0" h5="true" height="228" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_j8_WsmHO-r0/TUzlFQNTdDI/AAAAAAAAASc/5cY2pNwqNr4/s320/bus.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">And now the Brode-ster looks like this:</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_j8_WsmHO-r0/TUzlDY_7fKI/AAAAAAAAASY/3WLWcz2LMnk/s1600/brod-smashed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><img border="0" h5="true" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_j8_WsmHO-r0/TUzlDY_7fKI/AAAAAAAAASY/3WLWcz2LMnk/s320/brod-smashed.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">So I sold that little dude to the Insurance-Man.</span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">And bought myself one of these:</span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_j8_WsmHO-r0/TUzmEE3OusI/AAAAAAAAASg/neNpdWIlPKE/s1600/Board.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><img border="0" h5="true" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_j8_WsmHO-r0/TUzmEE3OusI/AAAAAAAAASg/neNpdWIlPKE/s320/Board.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I figure the only places I really need to go most of the time are to the Credit Union down the street or Trax down a different street. (Besides, I'll be insured on my parent's car for emergencies.)</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Don't worry, I haven't completely lost it. I'm thinking I'll look for a car new around September.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Anyway, I needed to publicize my gratitude to Brody for being so good to me. All in all, I really enjoyed our time together. I hope things turn out well for you.</span></div>Clestialhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04159894157033229754noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5324154446950590659.post-66486077657786195122011-01-29T10:11:00.000-07:002011-01-29T10:11:58.381-07:00Jeff Dunham<div align="center">My Co-worker and I were just talking about the crazy people that come into banks, and we had this thought:</div><div align="center">Does Jeff Dunham take his puppets to do his transactions? And if so, are they on his account?</div><div align="center">I'll bet Achmed the dead Terrorist would be a nightmare to help.</div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_j8_WsmHO-r0/TURKDu746eI/AAAAAAAAASI/e4fG6pIs2SQ/s1600/dunham.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="242" s5="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_j8_WsmHO-r0/TURKDu746eI/AAAAAAAAASI/e4fG6pIs2SQ/s320/dunham.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div align="center"></div>Clestialhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04159894157033229754noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5324154446950590659.post-43564874321899655392011-01-15T13:18:00.000-07:002011-01-15T13:18:53.807-07:00Soap Box<div style="text-align: center;">I hope you aren't sick of this topic, cause it's something I'm pretty passionate about.</div><div style="text-align: center;">The following are some excerpts from</div><div style="text-align: center;">Collin McGinn's</div><div style="text-align: center;">"Whe Not Be A Bad Person?"</div><div style="text-align: center;">(I know I won't be writing these in thechnically correct ways, but I don't really care... so you shouldn't either.)</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><strong>Beauty</strong> and <strong>truth</strong> are often linked with <strong>goodness</strong> as the supreme values: these three commodities are what the world should contain more of. I am happy to go along with these noble sentiments, but I would add that beauty and truth are bound up with goodness in inextricable ways, as follows.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #741b47;">A good person is a truthful person: habitual deceivers are not good. And truthful not only to others but to themselves: they seek out and respect the truth for their own consumption, not fooling themselves about where the truth lies. <strong>She who loves goodness also loves truth.</strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #741b47;">Less, obviously, beauty has a close relation to goodness. Many beautiful works of art are suffused with moral goodness, in ways that are hard to disentangle from their beauty; but more to the point, goodness of character is itself a form of beauty-- what we might call 'moral beauty' or 'beauty of soul'. The character of a good person gives aesthetic pleasure. A bad person, by contrast, has an ugly character, a soul we find it repungent to gaze upon. I think this is why we like to hang the pictures of those we admire, while we find it hard to stand the sight of the wicked. <u>Thus goodness partakes of beauty</u>. Indeed, given that not everyone can be physically beautiful, goodness of character affords one of the few other ways of exemplifying beauty. Nor does it require special talents of great labour, like being musically or poetically gifted. In a sense anyone can be morally beautiful, though not anyone can exhibit musical or literary beauty. This is because moral beauty is more an affair of the will than other kinds. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="font-size: large;">So if you want to make up for a lack of looks, you don't have to become an opera singer; you can simply become a decent human being.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #741b47;">The face of a good person is apt to radiate the virtue within, thus acquiring a beauty it would not otherise have; while the face of a bad person will tend the reflect the innter ugliness and be repellent to the gaze. Look at the expression on a face, notably when in repose: it can say a lot. This is not of course a simple matter of plain physical ugliness being the measure of a man's badness-- far from it. It is a much subtler thing than that, though one that most people can recognise when they see a clear instance of it (I mention no names). A physically ugly face can give off moral beauty, and a physically beautiful face can be marred by inner corruption. Nor, of course, is it easy to judge a person's character from her face, and major mistakes can be made, but with experience it is a skill that can be developed. Attend to the smile, the play of the eyes, the indefinable aura of the overall expression. Naturally the older a person gets, so that <u>their face has had more time to mould itself to their soul,</u> the easier it becomes to read their character from what begins at the neck and ends at the crown. I often think that a certain sort of tightness in the face is a suspicious sign.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #741b47;">So, if you are still wondering what reason you have to be virtuous, there is this reason at least: you don't want to end up looking even less attractive than you do now!</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: black;">I think one of my favorite things about this article is how much he focuses on recognizing the moral beauty of others.. instead of the typical "focus on becoming morally beautiful". I think it's good to put effort into the way you act and look, but it's even better to look for the good in others.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;">Anywho. Be good, look good.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</div>Clestialhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04159894157033229754noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5324154446950590659.post-60682093131058306072010-12-27T10:49:00.000-07:002010-12-27T10:49:35.544-07:00Think, Feel, Do<div align="center">I miss being a kid.</div><div align="center">When we were little, our parents got us some tapes with those awesome "<em>we're trying to teach your kids right and wrong but in a fun way that they'll love</em>" songs.</div><div align="center">One of our favorites was the "Think, Feel, Do Polka".</div><div align="center">It went a little something like this:</div><div align="center">"You think it. You feel it. You do it. It's that Old 'Think, Feel, Do Polka'"</div><div align="center">Truly inspiring lyrics.</div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center">Sarcasm aside, it's a great principle. How do you expect to stay lazy if you're constantly thinking about exciting, active activities? Or.. maybe the opposite is more in tune with your situation. How do you expect to be an energetic, exciting person when all you can think to do is watch T.V. and sleep?</div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center">I've always liked to take it one step past "doing" .. into "becoming". Kind of like Aristotle's famous quote, "You are what you repeatedly do". How often does that principle apply? For example, if you're thinking beautiful thoughts, will that eventually make you a beautiful person? I feel like I've talked about this <a href="http://c-bop.blogspot.com/2010/01/twits.html"><span style="color: blue;">before</span></a><span style="color: blue;">..</span></div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center">Lately I've been considering the potential people take so casually. We can literally become <em>anything.. </em>thanks to plastic surge and hair-dye. (just kidding... kind of.) Obviously to do so, you need to set goals. But I think the easiest way to adjust to that ideal image of yourself is to imagine it. Pretend your character is already what you want it to be. Act as if you were that person. Dress like them, eat like them, exercise like them, and talk like them. Eventually you'll be that person without having to try! Sure, it's easier said than done. But it's worth a shot. :D</div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center">Yay for life!</div>Clestialhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04159894157033229754noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5324154446950590659.post-25629874560082163642010-12-03T21:17:00.000-07:002010-12-03T21:17:58.990-07:00Holi-daze<div align="center">I'm the stickler that doesn't listen to Christmas music till after Thanksgiving.</div><div align="center">I don't watch Christmas movies anytime other than December.</div><div align="center">I don't even do my Christmas shopping till the last minute.</div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center">It seems like every year after Christmas I regret all the things I didn't do. </div><div align="center">"Oh, I didn't listen to this Christmas album!"</div><div align="center">"I forgot about this amazing Christmas movie and now it's too late!"</div><div align="center">"I didn't get such-and-such a present!"</div><div align="center"><span style="font-size: x-small;">(Okay, honestly, I've never really felt bad for not getting somebody a present unless they get me something and I'm unprepared. I just don't like spending money, okay? Here, have a cookie.)</span></div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center">I get so psyched about the Holidays throughout the whole year.. and then when the time comes, I'm rarely in the mood to party-- festive style.</div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center">I LOVE CHRISTMAS!</div><div align="center">Why wouldn't I?</div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center">I think I just need to embrace it. I'll go buy some fancy-shmancy sweaters like the ones old ladies wear. Better yet, I'll make some... and they will have bells and lightbulbs sewn on.</div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center">Here's a truly awesome Christmas-esque picture to get me into the spirit of things.</div><div align="center"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_j8_WsmHO-r0/TPnAU0-JByI/AAAAAAAAASA/7bIQqrlWKRE/s1600/awesome.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="230" ox="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_j8_WsmHO-r0/TPnAU0-JByI/AAAAAAAAASA/7bIQqrlWKRE/s320/awesome.gif" width="320" /></a></div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center">(yeah, I googled "awesome Christmas" to find that.)</div><div align="center"><br />
</div>Clestialhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04159894157033229754noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5324154446950590659.post-52092378433115902012010-11-28T17:51:00.000-07:002010-11-28T17:51:31.000-07:00Emotion<div align="center">"We are all fools in love"</div><div align="center">-Jane Austen</div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center">In my opinion, there are two sides of emotion.</div><div align="center">1-The beautiful emotions that help you recognize beauty in the world.</div><div align="center">2- The awful emotions that get the best of you.</div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center">We're going to start with number 2 so that this post can end on a happy note.</div><div align="center"><strong>Infatuation, jealousy, pride, pity..</strong></div><div align="center">As Jane so accurately points out, these emotions can make us look pretty idiotic.</div><div align="center">If I had a nickel for every time I'd done something I'd known was idiotic and had done it simply because I felt like it... I'd have a lot of nickels.</div><div align="center">Better yet, if I counted the number of times I'd made somebody angry, confused, or annoyed JUST because I was having a down day, it would probably be an astronomical number.</div><div align="center">Emotion and reason tend to be enemies.</div><div align="center">I think one of the greatest signs of maturity is a persons ability to ignore their emotions and do whatever is most reasonable.. which is probably why girls that whine aren't taken very seriously.</div><div align="center">I'd always thought that I had good control over my emotions.. but lately it seems to be the case less often than I would like.</div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center">NUMBER ONE!</div><div align="center"><strong>Compassion, awe, admiration, peace, attraction, respect, happiness...</strong></div><div align="center">These emotions tend to work in our favor.</div><div align="center">I've never regretted a day in which I've had a smile on my face for no apparent reason.</div><div align="center">The same can't be said about a scowling day.</div><div align="center">These are the emotions that I crave to create in the world.</div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center">aaaand.. discuss!</div><div align="center"><br />
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</div>Clestialhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04159894157033229754noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5324154446950590659.post-4222725063429698572010-11-08T09:46:00.000-07:002010-11-08T09:46:40.501-07:00Dream<div align="center"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I don't think there's any way possible that I can prepare you for this awesomeness... so we're just going to dive in.</span></div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">Me and a buddy were just getting on I-215 when our engine started smoking. We pulled over to the side of the road and opened up our hood to see what was going on. Considering the fact that I have absolutely no knowledge about cars, the mechanics were ridiculously simple in my dream. There was a long cord with a metal hook and the end and I was supposed to stick it inside a metal tube to fix the problem. I stuck it too far and when I pulled it out, it was on fire. I freaked out and then my shoe caught fire. It hurt. (Isn't it crazy that even though it didn't happen, my brain still registered pain?)</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">We struggled to think of a solution when our car still wouldn't start. A nice lady pulled over to help, but she seemed stressed and anxious. <br />
"The fight starts at 5:55.. you guys have to get out of here!"</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">We had no idea what she was talking about, and our confusion showed on our faces.. but she didn't expound.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">"They're coming!" She screamed and sped away.</span></div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">We looked at each other and noted the mirrored expressions that matched our emotions. Then we looked at the freeway and noticed no one was on the road but us. A strange sound began and continually grew louder and louder.It was a mixture of strange humming and thumping.. Then we saw the horde of slow moving cars and marching people inching toward us around the curve of the road. We started to get nervous and tried to walk quickly in the opposite direction, but it seemed that even when we started running they were moving faster than we were. As they came closer we noticed the gray pallor of their skin and the dead look in their eyes. </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">They were zombies. </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">They seemed not to notice us immediately, so we tried to fit in. As they swarmed around us, we looked straight forward, moved with the flow of undead. Eventually they split-- some took an exit, others continued forward. We were rushed away into the exit. Somehow we escaped the masses and ran into a gas station bathroom.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">"What are we supposed to do?!" I cried to my friend.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">No response.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">That's when I noticed the greenish bite mark on his neck.</span></div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">I ran as fast as I could, trying to find a safe haven. Looking around as I run, I notice the zombies have begun to fight amongst themselves.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">I run into another gas station and lock the door, and as I do so I hear a whimper.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">Behind the cashiering station I see a familiar, warm-looking face.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">She sees that I'm not yet a monster and runs to me, tears running down her face.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">"What do we do?!" She cries.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">I reply in a flat voice, "We have to fight."</span></div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">(Side note-- you know how things change in dreams? Well, by now the "zombies" are a weird combination of vampires, zombies, and just creepy-looking people. They're just as easily killed as humans, no special tools necessary. By now I've also come to the knowledge that the only way to survive is to be the last man standing.)</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">We decide to get a car. Luckily, there just happens to be a super fast, super awesome kind (not in existence in real life) right in front of the gas station with keys in the ignition. Unfortunately, there's a group of the "changed" people right in front of the door. We decide to go for it, swinging at as many of the changed as we can along the way. We make it to the car, but we've noticed that both of us have the dusty pallor. </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">We've changed.</span></div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">Fortunately, we're still intelligent beings and we decide to work together to the end. More than 2/3 of the changed are dead now. We just have to outlast them.. and two gray heads are better than one. We sit in the car for a few minutes, trying to comprehend what's happening and maybe think of a strategy. That's when I notice the arsenal embedded in the front and back ends of the car.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">Suddenly we're shooting at the crazies like there's no tomorrow (which I suppose is the truth for one of us).They're falling around us like leaves in the autumn. We know we're attracting all of them to us with the noise we're causing.. these are curious beings. We're down to about ten of the changed left when the car of awesomeness runs out of juice.. so I turn on the ignition and decide to finish them off with skill and finesse. </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">We're speeding away quickly, and I check my mirrors to make sure my plan is working. Affirmative, they're all getting in super-awesome cars, chasing us down. I let off the acceleration a little, letting them catch up. I turn to my partner in crime. "Open up the glovebox and pull out the flamethrower!" (Obviously, I didn't need to find out if there was a flamethrower.. a car this awesome would undoubtedly have one.) By now the first of the three cars has caught up. They ram our side, and my friend cautiously rolls down the window. Thinking we have something to say, the other car does the same. When we have a full view of their faces, she blasts them with her weapon, and all three inside are finished.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">Knowing the other two cars would have seen this, I have to think of something new to finish them with. That is, until I notice that they're battling it out on their own. It's a cruel battle, much like a game of chicken. Neither of them swerve, and the explosion of both cars shakes the ground. My friend and I are the only ones left.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">We turn to each other with looks of dread and terror on our faces.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">"How should we do this?" I ask.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">Suddenly her face turns hard and my terror rises exponentially.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">"Like this"</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">She points the flamethrower at my face..</span></div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">And then I wake up.</span></div><div align="center"><br />
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</div>Clestialhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04159894157033229754noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5324154446950590659.post-48087860700957348982010-10-27T09:22:00.000-06:002010-10-27T09:22:56.099-06:00Money<div align="center">I wanted to write a big rambler about the woes of dealing in money.. but this song by Josh Wilson pretty much sums it up. Take a little listen and (hopefully) you won't regret it.</div><div align="center">(Also, I apologize for the messiness, but I couldn't find it on playlist.com and I'm too lazy to try and make the video prettier.)</div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center"><object height="385" width="480"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/-fU1SYMoL0o?fs=1&hl=en_US&color1=0x3a3a3a&color2=0x999999"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/-fU1SYMoL0o?fs=1&hl=en_US&color1=0x3a3a3a&color2=0x999999" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object></div>Clestialhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04159894157033229754noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5324154446950590659.post-24847169926285385852010-10-07T16:06:00.000-06:002010-10-07T16:06:06.834-06:00Babbling.<div align="center">Here's one of those posts I know you all love-- the rambling type.</div><div align="center">These are the kinds I tend to write when I have a lot of repeating thoughts that I can't seem to figure out inside my little head. Typing them out and trying to make them understandable for other people helps me a lot.</div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center">First order of business is General Conference.</div><div align="center">I have to admit, I didn't connect with as many talks as usual this conference. There were one or two that answered questions I had, but the majority of the time I found myself thinking, "This is a great story".</div><div align="center">One of the few that <em>did</em> stick out to me was, along with the rest of the world, President Packer's. However, at first I was perplexed at the response it recieved. While I was listening it seemed that it was the talk that was written especially for me. It was exactly what I needed to hear. It was full of love and pleading to make a greater effort to return to the Father in Heaven that loves and created me. For that, I know that Pres. Packer is a prophet, and I stand by whatever he preaches to be truth. I had to listen to it a second time to realize how it could offend those who may believe differently. I understand that it may seem like ignorance. I don't want to debate about it, so please, if you disagree with me, don't post a comment on my blog. I WILL DELETE IT. I'd love to hear your opinion about the matter, so give me a call or shoot me a text. However, if you say anything rude, hurtful, or insulting to MY beliefs, I will discontinue the conversation. </div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center">Secondly, I want to talk about a little realization I've had recently. You know the saying "It's the thought that counts"? Well, I disagree. I've decided that the things that mean the most to me are so impactful because of the <em>effort</em> involved. Whether it be a tighter hug, a little note, or a smile, it makes a world of difference. Imagine hugging someone that you like. Hugging them is pleasant enough, but when the embrace is tightened a little, your heart warms and a smile will appear involuntarily. At least, that's how it is for me. </div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center">Third, I want to discuss towel size.</div><div align="center">It's ridiculous. When I was little, towels were the right proportion for my body. Why can't they grow at the same rate that I do? I'm tempted to buy a blanket-sized towel. If those don't exist, I'll sew 4 towels together. I want to be encompassed in warmth when I get out of the shower, pool, lake, whatever. I don't want to rub my skin off with a rag and then attempt to cover my body with it.</div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center">The fourth order of business is the weather.</div><div align="center">I was chatting away with <span style="font-size: xx-small;">a quite attractive </span><span style="font-size: small;">someone about the way Utahns are never pleased with the weather. Naturally there are exceptions.. like me. I love all types of weather. But generally, the public is displeased with whatever the sky decides to do that day. For example, it's been a relatively warm Autumn this summer, and I've only heard one or two positive responses about it. On the other hand, if it were a normal or even slightly chillier than normal Autumn, the world would be utter chaos. People would raid coat stores, they would light houses on fire just to stay warm, etc., etc.. Okay, wait. Maybe not that extreme. BUT there would be a heckuva lot o' complainin round these parts. You can't disagree (</span><span style="font-size: xx-small;">or i'll kill you).</span></div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center">Fifth is my hair.</div><div align="center">Should I dye it darker? It's been a while.</div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center">Sixth is my fam.</div><div align="center">I love them. I love them lots and lots. They are the reason I'm so awesome. (seriously.)</div><div align="center">With Chris and Paul in NJ on their adventure that's called "Life".. it makes me realize how much I really love 'em. Also, it makes me realize how AWESOME it is that I get to be with them FOREVER AND EVER.</div><div align="center"><br />
</div> <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_j8_WsmHO-r0/TK5EB2V_ubI/AAAAAAAAAR8/6j7ewd9jqMg/s1600/fam.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_j8_WsmHO-r0/TK5EB2V_ubI/AAAAAAAAAR8/6j7ewd9jqMg/s320/fam.bmp" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Older picture.. I think it's right after Eric's Homecoming.</td></tr>
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</div><div align="center">That is all.</div>Clestialhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04159894157033229754noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5324154446950590659.post-77803489919051894812010-10-01T00:21:00.000-06:002010-10-01T00:21:43.582-06:00Myspace Gems<div align="center">Myspace.</div><div align="center">I spent SO much time there.</div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center">One of the beauties I found whilst re-visiting my Jr. High life was the following list. It's pretty darned similar to some of the things I write on here. I guess I haven't changed much.<strong> I love to think about things I love. </strong></div><div align="center">Heeeeere we go! My Natural Highs (or things that automatically make me feel good) are:</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #990000;">1. Lake Powell. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #990000;"></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #990000;">2. Laughing so hard my stomache hurts.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #990000;">3. Stars. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #990000;">4. Playing in the rain. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #990000;">5. Playing the trumpet</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #990000;">6. Getting mail. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #990000;">7. Playing music that fits my mood and singing insanely loud along with it. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #990000;">8. Doing a mass cleaning in my room, only to watch all the clothes and crap pile up again. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #990000;">9. Lying in bed listening to the rain outside. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #990000;">10. Layers. Whether on cake or in clothing. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #990000;">11. Shakes. Only good flavors. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #990000;">12. Foot massages at Lake Powell. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #990000;">13. Laughing with my family. Especially those times when none of us can stop. My moms eyes water, my stomache hurts, someone snorts, etc. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #990000;">14. A deep conversation. Usually about religion, but can be otherwise </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #990000;">15. Trying to comprehend uncomprehensible things.. like eternity. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #990000;">16. Talking about my siblings. Sorry if it's annoying, but they're my favorites. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #990000;">17. Painting. Painting clothing, paper, wood, a wall. Whatever. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #990000;">18. Making someone smile. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #990000;">19. Reading for a whole day. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #990000;">20. Cooking. Sewing. All that mom stuff :) </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #990000;">21. Being around a person who, whether joking or not, will never say anything rude to you,or about anyone else. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #990000;">22. Being called gorgeous, pretty, beautiful, instead of cool, cute, or hot. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #990000;">23. Waking up early, thinking it's time to get up.. and then realizing i have 3 more hours to sleep. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #990000;">24. Dressing up in strange outfits and walking somewhere, and then watching peoples reactions. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #990000;">25. Watching good shows with my family. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #990000;">26. Wrapping up in a blanket, putting a hood on, and hiding from the world...just for a moment. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #990000;">27. Arby's and Noodles and Co. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #990000;">28. Waterskiing! </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #990000;">29. Watching the sunRISE. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #990000;">30. Learning something i know i'll use.. like.. how to make a really good dessert, etc. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #990000;">31. Flying Dreams! </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #990000;">32. Hot chocolate. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #990000;">33. Learning a really hard piece on the piano or trumpet. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #990000;">34. Swings. This one should be higher up on the list. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #990000;">35. Climbing Trees.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #990000;">36. Designing a dress and loving it. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #990000;">37. My family. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #990000;">38. Music. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #990000;">39. The song "Armor of God" </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #990000;">40. Scaring or surprising someone. Also Being Scared or surprised. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #990000;">41. Singing with the family. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #990000;">42. Waking up early and feeling wonderful the whole day. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #990000;">43. Those little crushes that never go away. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #990000;">44. Thinking/dreaming about the future. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #990000;">45. Being complimented. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #990000;">46. Rigoletto, haha, cheesy. i love the music. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #990000;">47. Back Scratches! </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #990000;">48. Payday! </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #990000;">49. Doodling in a boring class. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #990000;">50. Smiling at old mistakes, smiling for future possibilities</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: black;">That was fun. :)</span></div><div style="text-align: center;">Oh, here's another little blurb. It was under the "Who I'd Like to Meet" section. I guess I took it a little too seriously, but it still resonates with my values in relationships. Here it goes!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #990000;">Anyone with standards the same as (if not higher than) mine. Anyone who knows what I'm going through, who can share my pain, who can comfort me, and who can help me feel peace. Anyone who can make me feel comfortable with myself, and not make me feel like I need to change to have them as a friend. Anyone I can trust with my deepest, darkest secrets.. (since I have so many.. haha). Anyone who's willing to stick with me through it all, and not just when i'm having good days. Anyone who watches Seinfield, who eats when i eat (haha.. that's a personal pet peeve of mine), who doesn't have to ask if they can have a drink of water, but isn't rude or impolite. Anyone who can tell what I feel by looking at my expressions. Anyone who compliments me when I look hideous. Anyone who simply wants to be my friend for being my friend, not for the social status. Anyone who will let me help them, and in turn can help me.</span> </div><span style="color: #990000;"></span><br />
<br />
<div align="center">Just for the sake of entertainment, here's long-haired, copper-top Celeste! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_j8_WsmHO-r0/TKV9dCxpBQI/AAAAAAAAAR4/5w5LMbPf048/s1600/celeste2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" px="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_j8_WsmHO-r0/TKV9dCxpBQI/AAAAAAAAAR4/5w5LMbPf048/s1600/celeste2.jpg" /></a></div><div align="center"></div>Clestialhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04159894157033229754noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5324154446950590659.post-51616972327178793092010-09-24T18:49:00.000-06:002010-09-24T18:49:15.101-06:00Silly Struggles.<div align="center">Starting a new job is.. difficult. </div><div align="center">It's not just having to learn new procedures and routines..</div><div align="center">For me, it's how ridiculous I feel every time I mess up.</div><div align="center">I know it's not expected for me to know everything by the end of the week.. but I can't help but wish I did.</div><div align="center">I keep reminding myself of the first week of driver's ed. I was overwhelmed. As pathetic as it sounds, I was so concerned with checking everything constantly. I couldn't ever remember which pedal was gas and which was the brake. I felt flustered every time I got in a car. I remember asking my mom once, "Will I ever get used to this?!" to which she calmly replied, "After a month or so, you won't even have to think about it."</div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center">It's made me realize how proud I am.</div><div align="center">I HATE not knowing things. I HATE being on the bottom of the totem-pole. When they told me we were getting a new teller, I was thrilled... that is, until I found out she was just coming from one of our other branches. I'm still the least-knowledgable person there. haha. It's so silly, but that bothers me to no end.</div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center">It brings me back to a quote I heard forever ago.. and I'm too lazy to google it and find out who said it.. but it goes like this: "Comparison is a matter of pride."</div><div align="center">Eek. I'm pretty sure for the majority of my life, the only way I've measured my self-worth is by comparing myself to those around me. That's an awful, awful realization. Since I heard that quote, I've tried so hard to recognize my uniquenesses and count them as virtues.. I hate to discover I haven't made it as far as I'd like to.</div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center">I really just need to accept the fact that I don't know as much as my coworkers.. and hope they don't hate my constant questions and mistakes.</div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center">Don't get me wrong, I'm loving the actual job. Once I get the hang of things, I'm sure I'll be quite content.</div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center">Please--tell me I'm not alone!</div>Clestialhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04159894157033229754noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5324154446950590659.post-7431069882340722402010-09-16T14:44:00.000-06:002010-09-16T14:44:15.525-06:00Letters.Dear Attractive Man in the Jeep behind me this morning--<br />
My initial reaction to your good-lookingness was quickly replaced with incredulity at your rudeness. I realize you want me to go faster, but the giant truck in front of me was preventing me from doing so.. and I'm too kind to ride their tail like you were riding mine. Plus, they probably wouldn't have noticed my tiny little black car. Please, refrain from the rude hand gestures in the future. They're only disappointing.<br />
<br />
Dear ISACA (standing group at the Lion House)--<br />
I understand that you would like to have a board meeting an hour before your meal is supposed to start, and that's fine. Please don't be frustrated if we have to lean over you to get your table set up. Also, I really am sorry that your meal started 10 minutes late. It took us a while to find your salads. Oh, and in the future, when your server is literally <em>squeezing </em>her way between you and another person, it might be less annoying for you and her if you would move your chair in just an inch or two.<br />
<br />
Dear Brain--<br />
We all have our days, so I don't blame you for taking a break today. Please, hurry back from your vacation. I'm struggling without you.<br />
<br />
Dear Friend who shall remain nameless--<br />
I've finally realized how selfish and spoiled you truly are. At the same time, your selflessness will never cease to amaze me. (Yes, I know I just contradicted myself.. but it's the truth.)<br />
<br />
Dear Rooney--<br />
I've missed you. Welcome back into my life. I'm excited to listen to your newest (kind of old..) album. Let's not take another break like that, k?<br />
<br />
Dear iPod--<br />
I've never really thanked you for being so awesome. 6 years and counting. :)<br />
<br />
Dear Mashed Potatoes--<br />
I love you.Clestialhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04159894157033229754noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5324154446950590659.post-36045700280856778042010-09-07T15:55:00.000-06:002010-09-07T15:55:46.740-06:00Oo-de-lalleeeee!<div align="center"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I'm in a super-duper mood.</span></div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">From now on, <span style="font-size: x-small;">(well.. technically from Saturday on..)</span> there will be no more dealing with silly brides and high school dance-goers for me.</span></div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">Instead, I will work in the glorious field of MONEY.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">I'm seriously excited. I want to learn all there is to learn about banking. </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">I'm starting as a teller at Health Care Credit Union.</span></div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">Can I get a "hollaaaaa!"?</span></div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_j8_WsmHO-r0/TIa0ezLK9cI/AAAAAAAAARw/4Kz77YAYKMo/s1600/teller.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="307" ox="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_j8_WsmHO-r0/TIa0ezLK9cI/AAAAAAAAARw/4Kz77YAYKMo/s400/teller.bmp" width="400" /></a></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS; font-size: x-small;">This is the male (much cooler) version of me.</span></div><div align="center"><br />
</div>Clestialhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04159894157033229754noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5324154446950590659.post-76759594125673587752010-08-29T17:32:00.000-06:002010-08-29T17:32:52.769-06:00Unending Lamenting<div align="center"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Dear, oh dear. What a strange weekend.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Yesterday I was on my way to work when my loverly sister Chelsey called me. This is sort of what our conversation went like:</span></div><div align="center"><span style="color: #990000; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Chelsey: " I have three speakers for our ward tomorrow. Would you be willing to be the fourth?"</span></div><div align="center"><span style="color: #990000; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Celeste: "Uhh.. did you call the right person?"</span></div><div align="center"><span style="color: #990000; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Chelsey: "Celeste. My sister. My youngest sister. Are you willing to speak in church tomorrow?"</span></div><div align="center"><span style="color: #990000; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Celeste: "Uhh.. okay!"</span></div><div align="center"><span style="color: #990000; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Chelsey: "Thanks! If you could speak on the importance of attending our church meetings, that would be great!"</span></div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Me, oh my.. what a topic. There's really not much to say! Go to church. It's a commandment. Done.</span></div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Buuuut of course, being my silly ol' self, I looked up one quote, called it good for the day and went to Karate Kid (which is a fantastic movie, despite the issues I have with it's name.) Then this morning I woke up around 9:30.. (Sundays are my days to sleep in.).. and realized I had absolutely nothing prepared. Sooo I rushed around in the scriptures, searched lds.org like crazy, and threw together a talk. It went pretty well, if I might say so. :)</span></div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Then I went to my friend's <strike>homecoming</strike> opportunity to speak upon returning home from a mission. <span style="font-size: xx-small;">Yes, I realize the hypocrisy of me telling people it's important to go to their church meetings only to leave 5 minutes later. </span><span style="font-size: small;">It was fun to see some of my friends that I hadn't seen in a while, but for some reason I found myself in a terrible mood. I tried to pinpoint the reason for my pouting.. and after a while I decided that it brought me right back to high school.. which was not something I particularly enjoyed. I mean, I didn't dread going to school everyday. In fact, I quite enjoyed band and lunch.. and even most of my other classes. I just didn't enjoy the social atmosphere. I felt smothered in artificial happiness. I felt like the only time I enjoyed myself was when I was making a complete fool of myself, which I would eventually regret.</span></span></div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Anyhow, I kind of decided I wouldn't go to many more <strike>homecomings </strike>opportunities to speak. Which is kind of a downer, because I really do enjoy seeing my friends. I just really, <em>really</em> dislike that high school... stuffiness.</span></div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Those high school reunions are sure gonna be fun, right? heh.. heh..</span></div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_j8_WsmHO-r0/THrt5RM28YI/AAAAAAAAARo/ZLG-6fCStuM/s1600/untitled.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_j8_WsmHO-r0/THrt5RM28YI/AAAAAAAAARo/ZLG-6fCStuM/s320/untitled.bmp" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Goooo high school!</span></div><div align="center"><br />
</div>Clestialhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04159894157033229754noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5324154446950590659.post-9118289164003105212010-08-26T19:17:00.000-06:002010-08-26T19:17:36.612-06:00Nonsense<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I can't really tell you why, but I've been obsessed with this Incubus song:</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #741b47; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><u>WARNING</u></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #741b47; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Bat your eyes, girl. Be otherworldly.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #741b47; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Count your blessings. Seduce a stranger.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #741b47; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">What's so wrong with being happy?</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #741b47; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Kudos to those who see through sickness.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #741b47; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Over and over and over and over and ooh...</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
<span style="color: #741b47;"></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #741b47; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">She woke in the morning.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #741b47; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">She knew that her life had passed her by</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #741b47; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">And she called out a warning:</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #741b47; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">"Don't ever let life pass you by!"</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #741b47; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I suggest we learn to love</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #741b47; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">ourselves before it's made illegal.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #741b47; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">When will we learn?<br />
When will we change? </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #741b47; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Just in time to see it all come down.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
<span style="color: #741b47;"></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #741b47; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Those left standing will make millions</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #741b47; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">writing books on the way it should have been.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> </span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #741b47; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">When she woke in the morning,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #741b47; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">she knew that her life had passed her by</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #741b47; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">And she called out a warning:</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #741b47; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">"Don't ever let life pass you by!"</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
<span style="color: #741b47;"></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #741b47; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Floating in this cosmic jacuzzi,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #741b47; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">we are like frogs--oblivious</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #741b47; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">to the water starting to boil.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #741b47; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">No one flinches. We all float face down.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #741b47; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">She woke in the morning.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #741b47; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">She knew that her life had passed her by</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #741b47; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">And she called out a warning,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #741b47; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">"Don't ever let life pass you by..."</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Trebuchet MS;">I haven't had much to say lately. That's why this poor page has been abandoned. I haven't read anything to expand my understanding of the world.. which is usually when I have the biggest desire to write something.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">I HAVE been reading some books by one of my mom's favorite authors, Madeleine Brent. Funnily enough, I was reading the bio about the author.. which is something I hardly ever do.. and found out "she" is actually a man. This was after I'd read a couple of "her" books. I was pretty amazed because of the accuracy with which he writes the woman's typical perspective on relationships, life, and the woman's role in the world. There were a couple of things that I looked back on and realized were a little.. different.. from the usual female opinion.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">Anyway, that whole experience made me realize how truly different men and women are. Our perspectives about almost EVERYTHING are so different. I wish I could expound.. but I'm afraid most of the things I would say are pretty stereotypical and even though I believe they are true, I don't want to offend anybody.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">Here's the book I'm reading right now. I think the women on the cover are gorgeous. I wish their look were in-style..</span></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_j8_WsmHO-r0/THcQkxSnJDI/AAAAAAAAARY/XCY6ZVzlQT4/s1600/stormswift.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_j8_WsmHO-r0/THcQkxSnJDI/AAAAAAAAARY/XCY6ZVzlQT4/s320/stormswift.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">AAAnyway. That is all.</span></div></div>Clestialhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04159894157033229754noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5324154446950590659.post-91306765653170432702010-08-06T13:57:00.000-06:002010-08-06T13:57:02.765-06:00Blaaahhh<div align="center"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">My emotions are going haywire today.</span></div><ul><li><div align="center"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I'm so grateful for my family and friends. They are so supportive and loving.</span></div></li>
<li><div align="center"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I'm so frustrated with my own stupidity. Sometimes I wonder if my brain is completely functional.</span></div></li>
<li><div align="center"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I'm exhausted. I feel like life has required so much energy and effort lately.</span></div></li>
</ul><div align="center"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Because I'm a planning-type of a person, I'm almost constantly thinking about the future. Most of the time I'm excited for the possibilities, but right now I'm anxious, nervous, hesitant, and worried. </span></div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I feel like I've been ignoring things that need desperate attention, and now they're getting back at me by screaming in my face. I need to learn how to handle those stressful, annoying aspects of life with a positive attitude instead of just shoving them under the rug and hoping they'll go away.</span></div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">In other newwwwsss..</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">I've been in love with LACE lately. It's so hard to get the right kind though.. most of it just looks tacky.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">I want to be this girl on my wedding day.. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_j8_WsmHO-r0/TFxlxVqh8ZI/AAAAAAAAARQ/qknPKgSUHlk/s1600/weddint.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" bx="true" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_j8_WsmHO-r0/TFxlxVqh8ZI/AAAAAAAAARQ/qknPKgSUHlk/s400/weddint.jpg" width="267" /></a></div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Ah. I love weddings. Especially when you can tell the bride and groom are mature enough to know what they're actually doing. It's like all the worries about life melt away for a few sweet hours and all that's left are the beautiful possibilities of a life well-lived and an eternity full of love. I get frustrated when girls focus more on the actual wedding than the marriage.. but I'll readily admit that I'm pretty excited for my wedding day.. whenever it may be. haha.</span></div><div align="center"><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #990000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Often people attempt to live their lives backwards; they try to have more things, or more money, in order to do more of what they want, so they will be happier. The way it actually works is the reverse. You must first be who you really are, then do what you need to do, in order to have what you want.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #990000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">-Margaret Young</span></div>Clestialhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04159894157033229754noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5324154446950590659.post-71514145034975956092010-08-02T13:49:00.000-06:002010-08-02T13:49:21.635-06:00ha-ha-happiness!<div align="center"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Remember </span><a href="http://c-bop.blogspot.com/2009/11/oh-what-wonderful-feeeeeliiiing.html"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">this</span></a><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> post? Here goes part dos.</span></div><ul><li><div align="center"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Going to bed early. Like.. Grandma early.</span></div></li>
<li><div align="center"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Waking up early and eating a healthy breakfast</span></div></li>
<li><div align="center"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">The sun and wind on my face</span></div></li>
<li><div align="center"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Catching a whiff of myself and thinking, "Hooray! I smell good!"</span></div></li>
<li><div align="center"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Throwing my hair in a ponytail to get it out of my face and realizing that it actually looks pretty good.</span></div></li>
<li><div align="center"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">That moment when I realize I've become accustomed to something that heretofore made me nervous.</span></div></li>
<li><div align="center"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Using the word "heretofore" appropriately.</span></div></li>
<li><div align="center"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Driving when hardly anyone else is on the road.</span></div></li>
<li><div align="center"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Geeking out to classical music.</span></div></li>
<li><div align="center"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Clean clothes. Especially when ALL my clothes are clean.</span></div></li>
<li><div align="center"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Realizing that I don't care if people think I'm a dork.</span></div></li>
<li><div align="center"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Knowing that I AM a dork.</span></div></li>
<li><div align="center"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Awkward dance moves.</span></div></li>
<li><div align="center"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Finding that I'm okay with letting go.</span></div></li>
<li><div align="center"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Watching my savings account grow. (haha.. I'm a little vain, okay?)</span></div></li>
<li><div align="center"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Finding that quote that perfectly suits my feelings.</span></div></li>
</ul><div align="center"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I know I've already put this quote up, but it's the BOMB.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="color: purple; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">"We need not be let alone. We need to be really bothered once in a while. How long is it since you were really bothered? About something important, something real?"</span></div><div align="center"><span style="color: purple; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">-Ray Bradbury</span></div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_j8_WsmHO-r0/TFcg-TJj61I/AAAAAAAAARI/K67Uwg6y8-Q/s1600/cheese.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" bx="true" height="220" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_j8_WsmHO-r0/TFcg-TJj61I/AAAAAAAAARI/K67Uwg6y8-Q/s320/cheese.bmp" width="320" /></a></div><div align="center"><br />
</div>Clestialhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04159894157033229754noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5324154446950590659.post-51220126769526536832010-07-27T11:21:00.000-06:002010-07-27T11:21:11.063-06:00On a Religious Note..<div align="center"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Howdy!</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I'm reading <strong>The Infinite Atonement</strong> by <strong>Tad R. Callister</strong>.</span></div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">If you aren't in the process of reading a book right now, you NEED to read this book.</span></div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Today, this is the paragraph that struck me.</span></div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">"If there had been no Atonement, the rising of every sun would be a reminder that for us it would one day rise no more, that for each of us death would claim its victory, and the grave would have its sting. Every death would be a tragedy, and every birth but a tragedy in embryo. The culmination of love between husbands and wives, fathers and sons, mothers and daughters would perish in the grave, to rise no more. Without the Atonement, futility would replace purpose, hopelessness would be exchanged for hope, and misery would be traded for happiness. If there were no Atonement, Elder Marion G. Romney declared, '<em>The whole purpose for the creation of earth and our living upon it would fail.</em>' President David O. McKay quotes James L. Gordon in this regard: '<em>A cathedral without windows, a face without eyes, a field without flowers, an alphabet without vowels, a continent without rivers, a night without stars, and a sky without sun-- these would not be so sad as a ... soul without Christ.</em>' The contemplation of such a world as this would be the most despairing thought that could ever darken the mind or sadden the heart of man.<strong> But fortunately, there is a Christ, and there was an Atonement, and it is infinite for all mankind."</strong></span></div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">I've never looked at what life would be like without the Atonement. I've always focused on the possibilities that come about because of it. It's <em>heartbreaking </em>to consider the awfulness of what life would have been like had the Atonement never occured. In contrast, how beautiful it is that we don't HAVE to worry about what that would have been like. </span></div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center"><span style="color: #990000; font-family: Trebuchet MS;"><em>Slight change in subject!</em></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color: black; font-family: Trebuchet MS;">I have to admit that I've been struggling a little with.. life in general. I know that it's expected of people my age to have a hard time deciding what to do with their lives, and I think I'm the epitome of that situation. It's like my brain is in a pinball machine bouncing in a never-ending triangle of "school, career, mission". For the past couple of months, I've been working on the path that leads to a mission. I can turn in my papers in January. </span></div><div align="center"><span style="color: black; font-family: Trebuchet MS;">If I'm being completely honest, I'm <em>terrified</em> for my life to move forward. At the same time, I'm bored of my situation. I feel like my progression since high school has been very limited. To be blunt, I've felt pretty pathetic. </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">Today, I plan to change my mindset. As scared as I am, I plan to make a decision by the end of the day (with a little divine guidance).</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">Wish me luck!</span></div>Clestialhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04159894157033229754noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5324154446950590659.post-74146009918056160792010-07-22T20:25:00.000-06:002010-07-22T20:25:44.571-06:00Bugs.<div align="center"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_j8_WsmHO-r0/TEj9TKYvcjI/AAAAAAAAARA/_ewFP1Qr_ZQ/s1600/ladies..jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" hw="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_j8_WsmHO-r0/TEj9TKYvcjI/AAAAAAAAARA/_ewFP1Qr_ZQ/s320/ladies..jpg" /></a></div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Am I the only one who's noticed a dramatic increase in bug population recently?! Ew. </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">At work yesterday there were at LEAST 10 grasshoppers RIGHT outside the door. Some were even on the door and I had to brush them away from the handle to lock it when I left. </span></div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Today I was mowing the lawn and was attacked viciously by fire-bugs and moths.</span></div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">At Lake Powell there were so many spiders I wanted to vomit when I looked at the docks and I was afraid to sit anywhere until I checked for the 8-legged demons.</span></div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Come on seagulls, let's see you do something useful.</span></div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_j8_WsmHO-r0/TEj8uBtyEOI/AAAAAAAAAQ4/pfhET8PoSGI/s1600/054.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" hw="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_j8_WsmHO-r0/TEj8uBtyEOI/AAAAAAAAAQ4/pfhET8PoSGI/s320/054.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">This is the ceiling of the houseboat slips. Seriously, this made me cringe. I know it's hard to see.. but they were EVERYWHERE!</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">*shudder*</div><div align="center"><br />
</div>Clestialhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04159894157033229754noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5324154446950590659.post-67013890605735470412010-07-06T15:35:00.000-06:002010-07-06T15:35:04.765-06:00Life is Work<div align="center"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">A few weeks ago, I was talking with my dad and brother after work and my dad asked me to do something in the house. I think it was probably just cleaning a room or mowing the lawn or something, but being stubborn and ornery I said something to the effect of, "I've been working all day!" My dad got a little frustrated and said, "<strong>Life is work</strong>." At the time, I didn't think much about it. This was my workaholic father speaking-- the same man that wakes the entire family at 6 in the morning with his vacuuming-- so naturally that's something he would say. </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">A few days later I was, once again, chatting with my bro, Eric. He said, "I keep thinking about when dad said 'Life is work'." We kind of left the conversation at that, but Eric's reminder made me think more about it.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">My perspective on life has always been a little bit.. frivolous, I suppose. I usually scoff when I hear everyone talk about how hard life is and how stressful it can be. I get annoyed when people complain because, in my eyes, life is simple as long as you keep an eternal perspective (except for the occasional trial that heads your way). That's just the way I figured I would get through life, until I started thinking about why, in my dad's opinion at least, life was <strong>work</strong>. </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">The first reason I thought of was because if you don't work, you aren't going to get very far in life. You have to work for what you want. There are NO shortcuts. If you want a college degree, you have to go to school. If you want a fantastic career, you have to take the steps to get yourself there. No matter what tv shows or books may tell you, you can't make a life for yourself in a week. It comes with dedication, patience, and most of all, <strong>work</strong>.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">After my initial realization, I started to explore other areas of life where work might be considered an essential. My mind went to religion. The type of work required in religion is sometimes hard for me to consider as "work". These tasks, to me, include scripture study, prayer, temple attendence, service.. all the sunday school answers. Scripture study isn't "work" to me, because I love to read. It still takes dedication and an active, ready-to-learn mind. Prayer is something I've had to work hard at. I used to always do "thinking" prayers, never speaking out-loud. I would frequently lose focus and find myself wondering if I had actually ended my prayer. As pathetic as it sounds, I had to work at kneeling, praying outloud, and saying the things that truly needed to be said instead of reciting the usual "prayer-lines". Temple attendence is definitely something I struggle with. Mostly because I hate to go alone and it's tough to find someone that can always go at the same time as me. I miss the Jr. High days when we went every Tuesday morning. Those were good times. It's the same principle as my initial realization. If you don't work hard (in your religion), you aren't going to get very far.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">My mind moved to other aspects of life (and continues to do so), and recently it's become difficult for me to think of something that doesn't and will never require work. It was a little disheartening to me. I love to have a light heart and believe that everything will work out in the end. Ironically, I never realized that for things to <strong>work </strong>out, you had to<strong> work </strong>at them. I wanted everying to be natural and beautiful without my having to put a lot of effort into it. I imagined that kind of life, and at first I LOVED it. Everything seemed to be perfect. No worries, no struggles, just beauty and comfort. The more I think about it, the more I realize that the things I enjoy most right now are the things I've worked the hardest for. I love to play piano. Has it always been that way? Absolutely not. There were phases when I never wanted to touch those 88 dreadful keys ever again. Thank goodness my mom knew better and kept me going. As vain as this sounds, I love Brody (my car). To know how much time and effort has gone into my little buddy makes it impossible for me to be indifferent about him. I love my family. We work together on building relationships. So basically, what I'm saying is that I don't want ANYTHING unless I have to work for it. I find myself agreeing with my wise dad.</span></div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"><strong>LIFE IS WORK.</strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS; font-size: x-small;">(and that's not a bad thing)</span></div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_j8_WsmHO-r0/TDOhZkNE3oI/AAAAAAAAAQw/C2_e6bfK8DM/s1600/whatleadstosuccess.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" rw="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_j8_WsmHO-r0/TDOhZkNE3oI/AAAAAAAAAQw/C2_e6bfK8DM/s320/whatleadstosuccess.jpg" /></a></div><div align="center"><br />
</div>Clestialhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04159894157033229754noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5324154446950590659.post-58138219304902189582010-06-18T17:53:00.000-06:002010-06-18T17:53:43.394-06:00Anticipation<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">THREE DAYS until I'm HERE.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_j8_WsmHO-r0/TBwDaa_nGnI/AAAAAAAAAQo/BvMurVyaias/s1600/lakepowell.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qu="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_j8_WsmHO-r0/TBwDaa_nGnI/AAAAAAAAAQo/BvMurVyaias/s320/lakepowell.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">These are the things I'm MOST looking forward to:</span></div><ul><li><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">A break from normality and routine.</span></div></li>
<li><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">A break from my friends. (Sorry. I hope that doesn't offend anyone. hehe.. awkward.)</span></div></li>
<li><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">No LIGHT POLLUTION! (I'll get to actually see the stars.)</span></div></li>
<li><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Chillin with the fam.</span></div></li>
<li><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">It doesn't take me bumming a ride to go on an awesome hike. I can just GO.</span></div></li>
<li><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I'm going to ski like a demon this trip. I want to get better.</span></div></li>
<li><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I get to wear my new AWESOME life jacket!</span></div></li>
<li><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Sleeping outside with the breeze caressing my smiling face.</span></div></li>
<li><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">The sun on my skin.</span></div></li>
</ul><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">But MOST OF ALL I look forward to CLEAN AIR!! Especially after today. Here's what happened. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">I was on trax on my way to work at the Lion House.. and this man (who I'm sure had a lovely personality) got on who had the WORST stench I've ever had the misfortune of smelling. Within seconds my stomach felt nauseous and my head was about to explode. Then I (finally!) got to my stop and walked downtown, relishing the ability to breathe normally.. but alas, my sense of smell was so sensitive at this point that every little scent made my stomach queasy. I got inside the Lion House and the overpowering smell of (fantastic) food didn't help much. I spent 4 or 5 hours running around with a pounding head and uneasy stomach only to get back on the train with ANOTHER PUTRID MAN (who, again, I'm sure had a wonderful personality.) I was seriously trying to take deep, dreadful breaths to make sure I wouldn't vomit and make it ten times worse for everyone else on the train. Again, when I got off the train I tried to breathe in some fresher air.. but it was polluted with exhaust from the waiting busses and cars. Finally, I arrived at home where, to me at least, the air is scent-free and beautiful.</span></div>Clestialhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04159894157033229754noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5324154446950590659.post-86418211350580758982010-06-09T23:07:00.000-06:002010-06-09T23:07:50.056-06:00Cheer Up!<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #990000; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I haven't had a happy post for a while, and I think it's something I need right now. It's strange, usually when spring gets started I'm constantly in the greatest mood imaginable. This year, I'm stuck in this dumb, depressed-mode. It's kind of driving me crazy. Today I decided I feel much better after I've done something active, like hiking, running, or playing frisbee.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #990000; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Anyway, for my "positive post", I decided I'm going to list some of my quirks and little factoids.. and hope it will entertain all my faithful readers. Here goes nothing!</span></div><ul><li><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">My (current) favorite colors are, in order of greatest to least, as follows: <span style="color: #cc0000;">red,</span> <span style="color: #741b47;">purple,</span> <span style="color: orange;">orange, </span><span style="background-color: black; color: yellow;">yellow,</span> <span style="color: #38761d;">green,</span> <span style="color: #351c75;">blue,</span> black, and <span style="background-color: black; color: white;">white.</span></span></div></li>
<li><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">My (current) favorite gum flavor is Extra Polar Ice.</span></div></li>
<li><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">I have a tiny little bucket that I put my spare change in. When it's full, it makes me ridiculously happy. When it's empty it kind of bums me out. I hardly ever empty it for this reason. Right now it's overflowing.</span></div></li>
<li><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">When I was in elementary school, my parents bought me a starfish skeleton. I LOVED that thing. I wrapped it in toilet paper to try to keep it safe.. to no avail. The arms broke off one by one and eventually I lost it. This Christmas they bought me a new one (along with TONS of shells). It's bright reddish-orange.</span></div></li>
<li><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">I don't like poetry much, but sometimes I like to read the lyrics to Incubus songs and challenge myself to not think of the music while I read through them. Same thing with church Hymns.</span></div></li>
<li><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">In Jr. High I was convinced I was going to be a prom dress designer. I drew dresses whenever I got the chance. I still have most of my drawings. That's the main reason I now work at Modest By Design.</span></div></li>
<li><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">My favorite feature used to by my eyes. In all honesty, they were the only thing I really liked about myself. Now I like most everything. (I hope that doesn't make me sound cocky..)</span></div></li>
<li><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">I keep every kind note I recieve in a shoebox. When I'm struggling with something I pull them out to help remind myself what's really important.</span></div></li>
<li><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">When people ask me what my favorite book is, I rarely tell them the truth. I usually say it's the Uglies series or Stargirl. While I love both of those, my favorite book is called "It's a Happy Thing". It has a list of things that make most people happy (i.e. "the smell of rain") and it also has kids answers to the question "what is happiness?". I (used to) keep it in my car, Brody.</span></div></li>
<li><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">I write letters to my future husband in my journal. This also helps me to remember what's truly important.</span></div></li>
<li><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">I prefer to sleep with a light on, but not because I'm afraid of the dark.</span></div></li>
<li><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">When I was little, I was in Murray Community Dance. I quit after 3rd grade to play soccer. I've regretted it ever since.</span></div></li>
<li><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">One of my favorite movies is "The Lion King". If I watch it by myself I will undoubtedly cry.</span></div></li>
<li><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">I love getting my hands dirty. </span></div></li>
<li><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">I find it extremely difficult to NOT look at stylish people. It makes me feel like a creeper, but I feel like I have to figure them out.</span></div></li>
<li><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">I used to pretend I didn't like flowers cause I didn't want to be the "girly girl". Now I openly admit to liking them. Simple daisies are my favorites, follwed closely by daffodils. Day Lillies were my favorites in high school.</span></div></li>
<li><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">I have two whistles hanging on my bedpost. I don't allow myself to blow them. I thrive on those types of small victories.</span></div></li>
<li><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">One such small victory is when I choose a random person and try to make them smile. I've never failed. :D</span></div></li>
</ul><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">Wow. That went on for longer than I had planned. haha. I think you should all comment with one little (happy) factoid about yourselves.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Trebuchet MS;">"Those who bring happiness to the lives of others cannot keep it from themselves." </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Trebuchet MS;">-Sir James Barrie</span></div>Clestialhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04159894157033229754noreply@blogger.com5