As I traverse through this life of mine, I am prone to introspect and learn things about myself, that I don't think others would know unless I really told them. Some of the more embarrassing discoveries, I'll keep to myself...for now, and others, I will share.
- I fall to sleep with my hands by my face. I don't know when this started. I can't remember having always done it, but I was watching a movie or something and some incredibly untalented actor pulled her hands to her face - resting just under the cheek that lay on the pillow, and I thought...no one sleeps like that. Untrue. I sleep like that. In fact, I wake up with my hands uncomfortable swollen and asleep because they have been smashed by my face. It's most comfortable for falling asleep (especially when my fingers are a bit cold, the coolness feels marvelous on my cheeks) and most uncomfortable when I awake. I continue to do it, regardless.
- I absolutely abhor getting ready for bed. It's why I'm still awake at this hour. If I could just crawl into my bed, sans brushing my teeth, wrestling with the decision to don the retainers or not, washing my fact, etc. etc. I would. But as it is, I have several things before actually retiring that must be done, and I am avoiding them. I've been a procrastinator my whole life - I don't see why my bedtime routine would be any different. (I know, Dad, it's retarded. Really. I do, understand...)
- My life plan changes almost daily. Have we had this discussion before? I'm sure we have. Currently, I am set to graduate after spring term with a B.S. (this is ironic to me, as I have always prided myself in being able to spout all sorts of BS for essays, papers, etc.) of Geography in global studies. However, since I will not be attending grad school (at least not with the current life plan), it is very difficult to say what I will be doing next. Perhaps I will attempt to get a job at an airport, so I may fly for free. This is a brilliant idea. And then I want to attend nursing school so that I would work as a labor and delivery nurse. I think that would be marvelous. And then, I have thought that perhaps I would like to go to hair school. I think being able to do hair is quite a talent and skill that I just HAVE to have. Can you imagine the benefit of being able to do your daughters' hair without forking out $80 every time? Plus, you meet friends at school who are able to do your own hair, or at least, you learn how to do it so you can do it yourself. I have a hairstylist, and she is fantastic. However, she is in Michigan; and I don't know that we'll ever live in the same state again. It would certainly be convenient if I had someone else I trusted to do my hair. Besides, wouldn't it be great if I could figure out what to do for Mackenzie's hair? I think so. After that, maybe I'll get married. I've always thought I'd be married by now. Of course, I never wanted to admit that I was one of those girls that would get married at 18 or 19 and begin popping out babies. That wasn't really the reason I came to BYU. But...actually... I could have just been lying to myself. It has been noted, that I have been quite ready (or at least in my head have been) to be married since I was 16 or something. I quite fancied myself to be in love with Elder Jensen, and had he not had a girlfriend waiting for him when he got back, I think we could have married. HA! Well, in my head we could have.
- I absolutely detest a filthy bathroom and a messy kitchen. However, I thrive on the clutter in my room. I don't know what it is. I like not folding my laundry and not putting it away. I detest laundry. I only do it because I LOVE the smell of clean clothes, and frankly, because it is gross not to. Really. Clutter does not bother me, though. And I can not - for the life of me - understand how someone who loathes clutter can tolerate a spotty faucet, footprints in the bathtub, or crumbs on the kitchen counter. It is beyond fathomability. (Obviously not a word, but I think I like it...)
- It doesn't take a lot to gain my admiration. I'm really quite conceited (something I never realized until just now.) I. Am. Conceited. Hmmm... imagine that. I am incredibly self conscious, and often possess a low self-esteem. But I like when people talk to me, and more importantly about me. I don't own a lot of life experiences, or grand stories. I am not often witty and funny, and only know very minor details on things that would be considered intelligent conversations. However, I like to talk about myself. Much more, I like when people show an interest in me. I realize that this is basically innate. But some people like it more than others, and I think that if anyone wants to win my affections, they merely need to take the time to ask about me sincerely. Case and point, my roommate's boyfriend. He has made it a point to question me about a certain guy I like. Not every time I see him, but often enough to check the status and recent developments to show that he cares what is going on in my life. My old bishop remembered that I had had a bishop that didn't remember my name, ever, and so he would go out of his way to make sure I knew that he knew who I was. I was thrilled. The Mexican guy we delivered Christmas presents to last night, tried so hard to include me in the conversation by speaking English, even though he COULDN'T (I had to mentally turn on my brain to try and understand what he was saying) and I was so completely touched by his sensitivity. And, this conceit is the only thing that allows my crushes to linger for longer than a fleeting second.
- I am a romantic. I know you all know this. I have made absolutely no attempt to cover it up. I try to balance my...sheesh, is there even a word for it? I try to balance my wild immagination and heart's desires with practicality and a more realistic sense of what life is about - what love and marriage and companionship is about. I try. And there is a side of me that knows. I know. I know that life and marriage and having a family and love is complicated and hard, and work. I know that things are not perfect. And life is not magically transformed when you meet the person you are going to marry, or when you marry said person. I know that people don't really feel their bones dissolve with a simple kiss, or quite literally feel butterflies for the rest of their life. I don't even think that there is such thing that getting carried away with some passionate moment... I mean, it sounds so cliche. But still, I can't help but hope... but think... one day. It has to happen for me. Right? That's why it is taking so long. And by so long, I mean that of course, why it hasn't happened by the time I turned 19. After all, I'm sure that my soon-to-be 16-year old brother has had more experience with girlfriends than I have with boyfriends. (Not something I should admit to cyberspace, on a blog read by my parents and grandparents...but I can't help it. You have to feel a bit of pity for a 23-year old girl duped by her much younger brother, right?) And so... it has to happen. One day, I am going to be blissfully happy with some man (a REAL man) that turns my knees to jell-o. And if you don't believe that, keep you opinions to yourself. I can't think otherwise. Not yet. Maybe if I'm 40 and unmarried, I contemplate thinking something differently. Until then...
- Church starts a half hour later tomorrow than normal. I am not sure how this half hour change is going to make all the difference as I am now going to bed at a much later hour than I ever should contemplate before attending church. I shall retire immediately...that is, after I've brushed my teeth, convinced myself NOT to pick my face despite its looking like that of a leper, wrestled with the decision to wear my retainers (I think not) and washed my face, etc. etc.
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