tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-81576520274849022672024-03-20T23:56:52.531-06:00...these words are my diary, screaming out loud...Tamihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15351241818602229212noreply@blogger.comBlogger144125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8157652027484902267.post-88228685887900865112014-09-14T22:13:00.000-06:002014-09-14T22:13:24.690-06:00Catching up.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Oh, hello. I haven't blogged in over two years. I just got busy. So much has happened in my life in the past two years that I don't know where to start, but here are the basics:<br />
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1. I have two squishy, adorable, hilarious nephews courtesy of my sister Jackie and her hubs George. (Thanks, you two.)<br />
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2. I got the opportunity last fall (one year ago!) to travel to Ireland, England, and Wales for a month as part of a study abroad program at BYUI, and it was simply amazing. Easily the highlight of my college experience.<br />
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3. I graduated from BYUI with a BA in English in July, and now in my stressful "I-just-found-out-I-have-an-exam-for-a-class-I-never-attended" dreams almost always end with me waving my diploma at the professor and prancing out of the room. It's great.<br />
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So, more on item #2: I have been meaning to post my pictures and travel journal ever since I got back last October. I figured that the one-year anniversary of my trip was as good a time to do so as ever, so here we go! (PS: Does anyone have any good ideas for what to call my travel blogs? I was thinking "A Broad Abroad." Get it? Heh heh.) Some of these are just stream-of-consciousness thoughts, but some entries are a bit more polished. It just depended on how much time I had that day.<br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">9-11-13</span></b><br />
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<span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #222222;">My very first trip out of the United States began with me running
late--very late--for the airport. My plane didn't leave until around noon, but I was supposed to be at the airport to meet and mingle with my group around 7. I don't think I got there until 8:30. I jumped out of the car and was about to book it to the gate when</span><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;"><span style="color: #222222;"> dad sweetly surprised me with a little wad of spending money. He just held it out and said something like, "Well, here you go." I thanked him and got teary eyed
because it would really ease my budget over there.</span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bye Chicago!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Swanky blanket and pillow on Aer Lingus</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIP0XNBxZ3HBzjccBTFNoinu6Dvur6FBb9TzkqBZAXvKwY_R-8HjR2BT7CeX4N7jqbpPaeJyCO5vbviThPcbGWrNUiydaVVWLYjU7PbI33CstTsDx1yl5z2i9TNkn_8ypF4kTSY02JbJQ/s1600/IMG_1590.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIP0XNBxZ3HBzjccBTFNoinu6Dvur6FBb9TzkqBZAXvKwY_R-8HjR2BT7CeX4N7jqbpPaeJyCO5vbviThPcbGWrNUiydaVVWLYjU7PbI33CstTsDx1yl5z2i9TNkn_8ypF4kTSY02JbJQ/s1600/IMG_1590.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Flight Map</td></tr>
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Tamihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15351241818602229212noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8157652027484902267.post-17002727016926980042012-04-19T01:05:00.004-06:002012-04-19T01:28:15.320-06:00New obsession: Downton AbbeyMy new semester has begun, which means I have been doing a great deal of organizing, unpacking, writing, reading, and frantically trying to remember my class routes. It also means that when I am doing something that doesn't require full brain power (folding laundry, putting together binders, etc) I can watch TV for extended periods of time on my trusty laptop. I had heard great things about Masterpiece Theater's Downton Abbey, but hadn't had the chance to watch it until this week.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZHI9EFH0cRhpkHknaQeEa285rHYcTOMiYMoXm8ruQVOWvk51l5Qi2pC_3HogRfZGzrtvzQHUbj0a7QvB6rJXMqZQ7eYOUNvV_gEZWUJj5R7CLrUG_Owu_UJ51_kQ3FVowTXUrV2MmqPM/s1600/downton.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 257px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZHI9EFH0cRhpkHknaQeEa285rHYcTOMiYMoXm8ruQVOWvk51l5Qi2pC_3HogRfZGzrtvzQHUbj0a7QvB6rJXMqZQ7eYOUNvV_gEZWUJj5R7CLrUG_Owu_UJ51_kQ3FVowTXUrV2MmqPM/s320/downton.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5733010020590993314" /></a><br />Oh. Man. <br />The basic premise of the show is: "Exposing the snobbery, backbiting and machinations of a disappearing class system, this series chronicles the comings and goings of the upper-crust Crawley family and their assorted servants." (Thanks Netflix!) But it is so much more than that. The fashion and costumes are fantastic - drop waists, pincurls, lace, and red red lipstick. They make me wish I was a rich young aristocratic heiress in 1910's England so I could be wooed by men in cummerbunds.<br /><br />And the scandal! The scheming! The servant shenanigans!! It's like a 90's era soap opera, only classier and with British accents and women who aren't allowed to wear pants. Don't let the fact that it's a PBS production worry you into thinking it's farty and boring. That is always my first criticism of PBS shows, to be honest, but this one proves me wrong.<br /><br />So go watch it already.Tamihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15351241818602229212noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8157652027484902267.post-37663597405654115052012-04-03T00:25:00.003-06:002012-04-03T00:38:50.133-06:00This semester........has been bat-crap crazy. Hence my lack of blog entries. I have been struggling a lot lately with personalish-things, and stress, and work, and school, and my calling, and rekindling my dating life (!!!). I think I am going to make it, though. Mainly thanks to prayer, faith, many of my very sweet Relief Society sisters, my Mamma, and copious amounts of Diet Dr. Pepper. <br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUmbRd36MSG5gxHHaK2eeiiaswGFh22x-ys4alD8UCdm7v0aGpWSZdShFY2gWxAb_7Wx2B7ra97fZWgOqEijaar5AWGIAjTZ0xvEe0Gb1j8VV0T-kQMpOuGb101Im7x5gcDl2nr99YB5s/s1600/tumblr_lxyd2z2Lyz1qzq4di.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUmbRd36MSG5gxHHaK2eeiiaswGFh22x-ys4alD8UCdm7v0aGpWSZdShFY2gWxAb_7Wx2B7ra97fZWgOqEijaar5AWGIAjTZ0xvEe0Gb1j8VV0T-kQMpOuGb101Im7x5gcDl2nr99YB5s/s320/tumblr_lxyd2z2Lyz1qzq4di.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5727059614355201314" /></a><br />I kind of wish I could fast-forward time and arrive promptly at this Saturday afternoon, when I walk into my family's house in Kaysville. It will be spring break! And Easter weekend. And I will get to see my family, and my Utah friends. And I'm pretty sure my little doggie Lady Gaga will be so stinking excited to see me that she'll lose her mind.<br /><br />I can't wait.Tamihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15351241818602229212noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8157652027484902267.post-17691699495843810642012-03-19T16:34:00.005-06:002012-03-19T17:29:14.388-06:00thoughts on the narrow definition of feminism in literature: (AKA, in defense of Bella Swan)Longest blog title ever.<br />So, recently something has been kicking around my head. And it is bugging me. <br /><br />To begin, you need to know I am a feminist. I think women like Joan of Arc, Grace O'Malley, Elizabeth Cady Stanton, and all the other strong defiant women throughout history who threw off the yoke of traditional womanhood and stood up for what they thought was right, are awesome. They inspire me enough to know why some women would want to burn their bras. (Though I don't want to. Such a waste of money. And bra-lessness is uncomfortable.)<br /><br />However. I think feminism in our culture has become a little bit backwards, and that is what nags at me. I think the root of feminism is recognizing that women have the right to be whoever the heck they want. <br /><br />Want to run a business/go into politics/become a soldier? Awesome! Do it. <br /><br />Want to be a stay at home mom or wife or homemaker? Also equally awesome! Do it. That's what I would say.<br /><br />Unfortunately, it seems like modern feminism downplays the choice to be traditionally <span style="font-style:italic;">feminine,</span> and argues that to pursue a path like motherhood or marriage or falling in love is undesirable and unsuited to a truly modern women. To them I say: Bah humbug. (Actually, I'd rather say something else to them, but I am trying to use less curse words in my day-to-day vocabulary.)<br /><br />Which brings me to my main point. For those of you who don't share my book-geekery obsession, I apologize if the following is just gobbledegook to you. I love Katniss Everdeen (of The Hunger Games). She is strong, brave, defiant, and fights violently for the things that matter to her. I love Hermione Granger (of Harry Potter). She is intelligent, sensible, determined and uses these skills to turn the tide of a magical war. These two heroines are regularly lauded as positive role models for women, because they personify the things that our current culture of feminism applauds: the ability to break through stereotypical 'feminine' barriers by being strong in a way, for centuries, only men were expected to be. I agree - they are great.<br /><br />But you know what else? I love Bella Swan (of Twilight). She falls in love, unapologetically. I think that's brave, even though she becomes a hot mess when Edward leaves. She is quiet and awkward but doesn't try to change her personality and tastes in order to fit in with her peers. She knows precisely who she is and what she wants out of life, and I think that is strong. I don't think the fact that she wants to spend forever with the man she loves is a sign of weakness of character. I think it embodies precisely what the crux of feminism is: <br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">A woman can and should be whoever and whatever she damn well pleases. </span><br /><br />So when I see this: <br /><a href="http://27.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_ldb13wdZuU1qbjbzuo1_500.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 499px; height: 465px;" src="http://27.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_ldb13wdZuU1qbjbzuo1_500.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /> ... it makes me shake my head a bit. And mumble curse words. And blog until my annoyance goes away.Tamihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15351241818602229212noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8157652027484902267.post-39529020102561410402012-01-18T17:59:00.000-07:002012-01-19T13:49:48.088-07:00First weeks of class<a href="http://cdn.buzznet.com/assets/users16/jennaflower/default/msg-129265891933.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 500px; height: 333px;" src="http://cdn.buzznet.com/assets/users16/jennaflower/default/msg-129265891933.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br />I am officially back in school, and officially swamped with a bazillion things that need to be done all at once. Gahh. However, one of my New Years resolutions, yet again, is to blog at least once a week (and I missed out on most of January already). So...<br /><br />In Sum:<br />I made the trek up to Rexburg and got moved into my apartment with help from my trusty, box-moving dad. (Thanks pop!) I have one of the same roommates as I had the last time I was up here (hi Jen!) which is FANTASTIC. I cannot stress enough how key having room mates who are on the same wavelength as yourself is when it comes to things like tidiness. It can effect the entire living experience. <span style="font-style:italic;">Seriously.</span> Such a relief.<br /><br />My classes: I am nerdily thrilled with the material I get to read and write about this semester. I'm taking Family Foundations (a religion class, which has The Family Proclamation as the basis for all of the material we cover), The Middle East (taught by a man who lived in the middle east for 7 years and has a deep love and respect for the culture and people there) Postmodernism (oh man!! This is contemporary fiction from 1965 up until the present. Our texts are books that have been on my to-read list for eons, so I am more than a little pumped to get into it) and Advanced Literary Criticism, which sounds scary and boring, but I assure you it is not. My teacher is from Boston and talks with a New Yawk accent, and during the first period alone we discussed Aristotle, Shakespeare, and Escher and how they relate to literature. Amazing. Also, he looks like Dustin Hoffman, so just being there is an entertaining experience. I also have Science 101, which has not proved utterly mind-numbing yet, so that's a good sign.<br /><br />My life: I got called to be the 1st Counselor in Relief Society (a women's organization in our church) and wow. It takes up a lot of time, but apparently I had plenty of random time stored away in nooks and crannies that went unused over past semesters, because somehow I am finding time to fit it in. I also started work again this week. I am still unsure where all the hours I require in each week for work and study and service and class are going to come from, but so far I'm alive and kicking. I haven't even had to borrow Hermione Granger's time-turner yet. (I knew I could work a Harry Potter reference in there somewhere. High-five.)Tamihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15351241818602229212noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8157652027484902267.post-64189365870801956532011-12-27T22:24:00.000-07:002011-12-27T22:25:08.450-07:00Dear Bloggie,Oh hello. I know I've been neglecting you over the past few weeks. Sorry. I've been busy working, but that is no excuse. I had a fantastic Christmas with my family and ate too many cookies and lots of fudge. I've taken the week off of work to pack, but I've mainly been watching Modern Family on Sidereel.com. It is hilarious. I love how little Manny is a 40 year old trapped in a 12 year old's body, and conversely, Phil is a 12 year old trapped in a 40 year old's body.<br /><br /><iframe width="560" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/V_CmBsi17_0?rel=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe><br /><br />I've also been doing a great deal of thinking about all the organizing and packing I have to do over the next 6 days. Unfortunately, I usually get distracted and end up watching TV or painting my nails instead of doing anything productive. I go to Rexburg in 6 days, and am not yet frazzled by the prospect. I suppose I should start packing now so that I don't have an absolute unpreparedness-triggered moving panic attack come Monday morning.<br /><br />Toodles,<br />TamiTamihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15351241818602229212noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8157652027484902267.post-27824405989079636872011-12-06T00:00:00.008-07:002011-12-06T00:35:48.987-07:00Meet Anxiety Cat.I came across <a href="http://memegenerator.net/Anxiety-Cat/images/popular">this little fellow</a> on memegenerator (a site on which I waste an embarrassing amount of time giggling quietly to myself) and it made me<span style="font-weight: bold;"> laugh so hard</span>. It's like he is the absolute personification (or cat-ification?) of every ounce of social anxiety/shyness/OCD stress I have ever experienced. Enjoy.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://memegenerator.net/cache/instances/400x/10/10669/10925571.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 255px; height: 306px;" src="http://memegenerator.net/cache/instances/400x/10/10669/10925571.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://memegenerator.net/cache/instances/400x/9/9389/9614688.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 255px; height: 306px;" src="http://memegenerator.net/cache/instances/400x/9/9389/9614688.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://memegenerator.net/cache/instances/400x/9/9387/9612838.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 255px; height: 306px;" src="http://memegenerator.net/cache/instances/400x/9/9387/9612838.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://memegenerator.net/cache/instances/400x/9/9456/9683308.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 255px; height: 306px;" src="http://memegenerator.net/cache/instances/400x/9/9456/9683308.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://memegenerator.net/cache/instances/400x/9/10159/10403706.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 255px; height: 306px;" src="http://memegenerator.net/cache/instances/400x/9/10159/10403706.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://memegenerator.net/cache/instances/400x/10/10606/10861461.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 255px; height: 306px;" src="http://memegenerator.net/cache/instances/400x/10/10606/10861461.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://memegenerator.net/cache/instances/400x/9/10060/10301755.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 255px; height: 306px;" src="http://memegenerator.net/cache/instances/400x/9/10060/10301755.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>Tamihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15351241818602229212noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8157652027484902267.post-55442370694591199962011-11-22T13:14:00.004-07:002011-11-22T13:36:02.261-07:00Thunder thighs and my body image.I saw a picture this week, a very recent one, of myself. Even though I've lost close to 40 pounds in the last year and a half (which, yay!), I still zeroed in on the one area of my body I've never been happy with, no matter how skinny I've been - my thighs. Oh, my thighs. They have always been hell-bent on constantly being large and jiggly.<br /><br />As I stared at them in disgust, I had an epiphany. If I approach my appearance with an ever critical eye, I will never be thin enough. Or toned enough. Or cute enough. Or even tanned enough. No matter how supportive and complimentary people are towards me, if I lose the weight only in order to 'fix' myself,<span style="font-style: italic;"> it will never be enough.</span><br /><br />However, if I accept my body as it is right here and right now (jiggles, cellulite, whiteness and all), I have already won. Focusing on becoming <span style="font-style: italic;">healthier,</span> as opposed to fixing what I perceive as defects, <span style="font-style: italic;">will</span> be enough.<br /><br />Hooray.Tamihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15351241818602229212noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8157652027484902267.post-68650236411023801432011-11-11T00:28:00.007-07:002011-11-11T01:45:41.716-07:00It's always darkest before the dawn.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.shoppingblog.com/2011pics/florence_machine_ceremonials_cover_art.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 200px;" src="http://www.shoppingblog.com/2011pics/florence_machine_ceremonials_cover_art.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />Another post dedicated to an awesome new album that I must gush about to anyone who will listen. Because I love my music to the point of total nerddom. Deal. With. It.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Artist: </span>Florence + The Machine<span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold;">Album: </span><span style="font-style: italic;">Ceremonials</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">My thoughts:</span> So beautiful. Quirky, happy, and occasionally mysterious. The arrangements and beats are brilliantly layered; each song feels like a unique little story. Just like with their last album, <span style="font-style: italic;">Lungs</span>, there are certain songs on this record that make me so happy that while listening to it on the road, I get the urge to jump on top of my car and just start dancing in the middle of an intersection. (Don't worry, I haven't. Yet.) There are also a few tracks that are spooky that I haven't completely been won over by yet, but I know I will be. Because that is just how good these guys are.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Favorite Tracks:</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">Shake It Out, Only If for a Night, All This and Heaven Too</span><br /><br /><img style="visibility:hidden;width:0px;height:0px;" src="http://c.gigcount.com/wildfire/IMP/CXNID=2000002.0NXC/bT*xJmx*PTEzMjA5OTk3Mjc5NTAmcHQ9MTMyMDk5OTc*NjEwNSZwPTY5NDMwMSZkPSZnPTEmbz1mOWQ2MWNmMDVkNGQ*ZDM4YTU3/MjBjZGZkNGFmOWZjZCZvZj*w.gif" height="0" width="0" border="0" /><div style="text-align: center; margin-left: auto; visibility:visible; margin-right: auto; width:350px;"> <object height="270" width="350"> <param name="movie" value="http://www.musiclist.us/mc/mp3player_new.swf"> <param name="allowscriptaccess" value="never"> <param name="wmode" value="transparent"> <param name="flashvars" value="config=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.indimusic.us%2Fext%2Fpc%2Fconfig_regular_noautostart.xml&mywidth=450&myheight=270&playlist_url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.musiclist.us%2Fpl.php%3Fplaylist%3D88685259%26t%3D1320999688&wid=os"> <embed style="width:350px; visibility:visible; height:270px;" allowscriptaccess="never" src="http://www.musiclist.us/mc/mp3player_new.swf" flashvars="config=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.indimusic.us%2Fext%2Fpc%2Fconfig_regular_noautostart.xml&mywidth=450&myheight=470&playlist_url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.musiclist.us%2Fpl.php%3Fplaylist%3D88685259%26t%3D1320999688&wid=os" name="mp3player" wmode="transparent" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" height="270" width="450" border="0"></embed> </object><br /><a href="http://www.musiclist.us/"> </a> </div><br /><br />*As a sidenote, there is one detail that pains me about Florence + The Machine. As a lover of music videos, I was really excited to check theirs out. When I heard that the <span style="font-style: italic;">Dog Days are Over </span>video won an MTV music video award, I knew I had to watch it. So I did - and I was left wondering precisely when during the experience I dropped acid. Blue genie women in gold dresses and scary kabuki doll makeup? Check and check. Masked purple ninjas banging on some bongo drums? Why of course!<br />Seriously.<br />It's terrifying.<br />I really don't want to post the video here because it will freak you out and could make you hate their music, which would be tragic. So instead, here is a little screencap to illustrate my point:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/img-thing?.out=jpg&size=l&tid=30373889"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 300px;" src="http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/img-thing?.out=jpg&size=l&tid=30373889" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />Oh well.Tamihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15351241818602229212noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8157652027484902267.post-14691776085746098492011-11-07T00:08:00.001-07:002011-11-11T01:45:08.124-07:00It's mah birfday! and some random facts.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://a4.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash4/296903_10150355624686743_599596742_8854233_634659668_n.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 192px; height: 196px;" src="http://a4.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash4/296903_10150355624686743_599596742_8854233_634659668_n.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>I had a fantastic birthday yesterday. I was even given the gift of an extra hour of sleep by the universe (thank you daylight savings time! I forgive you for being an unnecessary annoyance to the modern world). My sister Jackie came down to Utah for the weekend, and so my <span style="font-style: italic;">entire</span> family was together. It was awesome. We had presents, cake, and crepe paper decorations (an old family tradition that was supposed to die out once we were no longer little kids, but has endured).<br /><br />So I am now 26. I am fully loving it, but personally accepting the inevitability of aging is a new development. When I hit 25, I had this inexplicable wave of horror wash over me when I realized that I was only 5 years away from being 30. That just seemed so....old. However, just because I am not precisely where I imagined I would be in my late 20's, I am entirely <span style="font-weight: bold;">who</span> I want to be. I think that matters more than the fact that I haven't yet reached the milestones that I expected I would have by now.<br /><br />So, in honor of self-acceptance, here are 5 little-known (or quirky) things about me:<br /><br />1. I swear too much, even though it's often just under my breath. I know I ought to stop because it's not ladylike and it's getting out of control. For example: The other day, I was exiting the 7-11 in Kaysville after getting a nice big fountain drink of Dr. Pepper. The door slammed my arm as I was walking through on my way out, and it hurt like the dickens. For a horrible moment I was in danger of losing my 32 oz fountain drink all over myself so i mumbled, <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">"ohsh*t</span>!" under my breath. Apparently it wasn't as quiet as I thought it was, because some dude looked up and stared at me the whole way out to my car. I'm sorry I offended your delicate sensibilities, young man, but you were wearing a backwards hat and didn't look like you were full of high society social norms.<br /><br />2. Most of my wardrobe looks more like it belongs to a 13-year-old than a 26-year-old. It's mostly because I just like tee shirts and sneakers, ok? And also, because I have a secret desire to be on TLC's <span style="font-style: italic;">What not to Wear</span>. I have literally imagined the things that Clinton Kelly would say to me while flinging all my crew neck graphic tees into the garbage can.<br /><br />3. I am not ambidextrous when flipping off idiot drivers. (another habit I need to quit)<br /><br />4. When I am at work and extremely bored between surveys, I play the alphabet game in my head. The alphabet game goes like this: Think of a fairly specific category, and then think of a word or name from that category for each letter of the alphabet. The other day, I chose 'first names of characters that appear in books I own.' (Aberforth, Bella, Carlton, Diana... etc) It is a fabulous way to make the day go by quickly.<br /><br />5. I was a shamelessly compulsive liar up until I was about 7 or 8 years old, when I apparently grew a conscience. For instance: I once told my best friend in the second grade that we had 'lost' my younger sister at the mall. (We hadn't.) I wove the story very dramatically and was apparently very convincing because that afternoon, my friend's very concerned mother called my house to ask my mom if they had found my younger sibling. Busted.Tamihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15351241818602229212noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8157652027484902267.post-85919233923510462022011-10-21T23:23:00.001-06:002011-11-11T01:46:10.043-07:00concert review: MCR & Blink 182So, I went to a concert last month. It was super fun, and therefore deserves a post. I am just really behind on blogging. In sum:<br /><br />I went with my great friends Robyn and Megan.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZfefnQ3xLfzAkXvWx7Hp4QOBgIIUArNm5iQGPwYqdB30uIPXjHFUaWd8Iua6BDDL3kIlfZIdnkVvyUodzIXgjBlq7OHnj-tjyoOankYRFmvwpiU3v_eV7qtQ-plcY7eqaSe7E_eHxxg4/s1600/006.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZfefnQ3xLfzAkXvWx7Hp4QOBgIIUArNm5iQGPwYqdB30uIPXjHFUaWd8Iua6BDDL3kIlfZIdnkVvyUodzIXgjBlq7OHnj-tjyoOankYRFmvwpiU3v_eV7qtQ-plcY7eqaSe7E_eHxxg4/s320/006.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5666151076626601314" border="0" /></a><br />It was not the best live show I've ever been to, but I still had a blast because I was with my besties. However, I probably won't be going to a Blink 182 concert again (Oh, yea, by the way - the bands were Blink 182 and My Chemical Romance). Because even though Travis killed it on the drums (it sounded like no animal with less than 8 arms could have done all that crazy stuff), and even though their songs were catchy as ever, they have a REALLY VULGAR stage act. Like, tasteless. I shouldn't have been shocked, because Meg, who had been to their shows before tried to warn me. "Uh, Tami, are you sure? Blink kind of... swears a lot at concerts."<br />"Meh! That's ok. I don't listen to lyrics that much anyways."<br /><br />The problem is, you really don't get a sense of how crude they are when you buy their music edited - which I do. And having it blared through an awesomely loud sound system doesn't really give you much of a choice in how much you notice. So, their act was an eye-opening experience. Yikes. It was also a little bit sad, because aging rock stars with receding hairlines are depressing. (I'm sorry, Mark Hoppus. But you seriously are going bald.)<br /><br />But now, we will talk about <span style="font-weight:bold;">My</span> <span style="font-size:70%;">*cough cough secret husbands*</span> <span style="font-weight:bold;">Chemical Romance</span>. They are who I really went to see. They are those tiny, tiny blue and purple lights on stage wayyyyy behind me:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgkwsO3ODKx_89tp81MdchhpQ9F-afOGshP1vPwz_rfwI5-NAeNZB4PVXM1642I1AITpUKtRfMGFSlMBpH4P2nMgKccFDuixMTRd8fj4bY7Fq7fm6Nf7aJJ9789uBVDOsraDSShyphenhyphen-1VCA/s1600/033.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgkwsO3ODKx_89tp81MdchhpQ9F-afOGshP1vPwz_rfwI5-NAeNZB4PVXM1642I1AITpUKtRfMGFSlMBpH4P2nMgKccFDuixMTRd8fj4bY7Fq7fm6Nf7aJJ9789uBVDOsraDSShyphenhyphen-1VCA/s320/033.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5665468605672862626" border="0" /></a><br />I had assumed that Blink and MCR would be co-headlining, and would each take turns as the main attractions. Instead MCR opened and did a short, 45-minute set. Wahhhhh. Their sound system and stage set up wasn't as cool as Blink's, since they weren't the headliners - but they still sounded amazing. They are one of my favorite bands, and they didn't disappoint. I would do it all over again to see them perform. Their music is so personal and piercing. It tears my little heart out and I love it. They played a beautiful rock set full of my faves including <span style="font-style:italic;">Helena, I'm not Okay, Cancer, Na Na Na</span>, and their arrangements were slightly different and more dramatic and instrumental than their studio albums. It was very theatrical.<br /><br />In short, we had a great time. Also, we saw lots of people with fascinatingly ugly hair. Like this young lad:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwr4NTfhrA9yA7I3vJJvKbjB1QEM4OtMtNXTGvaEQbJTQ5GwQbk5DzSUaF59IsadKtzNUmWvlwC6YRrjjRUXLrAOPhNzPTizAn4fUu6hdelpgRvDHqgqgUesWpkNoLANnPK_ZtuqVbmYU/s1600/008.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwr4NTfhrA9yA7I3vJJvKbjB1QEM4OtMtNXTGvaEQbJTQ5GwQbk5DzSUaF59IsadKtzNUmWvlwC6YRrjjRUXLrAOPhNzPTizAn4fUu6hdelpgRvDHqgqgUesWpkNoLANnPK_ZtuqVbmYU/s320/008.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5665466472984657074" border="0" /></a><br /><br />I felt his hair needed to be documented, but I was torn between getting close enough to snap a good picture without being noticed, or getting too close and risking getting poked with his spikes if I angered him.Tamihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15351241818602229212noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8157652027484902267.post-56129032610945080632011-10-07T19:38:00.002-06:002011-10-07T00:53:16.513-06:00Dear Autumn,You are a great season. One of my favorites. Bright yellow leaves, the introduction to the holiday season, and feeling so cozy in my car with the heater blasting - all of those are fabulous. However, I wish that you would last longer - or how about you stick around all the way through til Spring? You lasted only a week or two this year, you fickle minx.<br /><br />Here's the thing. Your little sister, Winter, is heinous. I hate her more than the Grinch hated Christmas. In fact, I sort of turn into the Grinch once Christmas passes, and the snow and sleet and ice are left behind but are no longer nostalgic and festive. They're just cold. Painfully so, especially once I've moved down to Idaho. And then I start to lose my mind a little bit, and-oh-my-gosh-<span style="font-size:85%;">it's-April-why-is-</span><span style="font-size:78%;">it-<span style="font-weight:bold;">still-snowing</span></span><span style="font-size:55%;">....ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://images.cheezburger.com/completestore/2011/2/25/fa10b497-a281-4ac7-918a-33de6e5c7319.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 386px; height: 500px;" src="http://images.cheezburger.com/completestore/2011/2/25/fa10b497-a281-4ac7-918a-33de6e5c7319.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />Please, see what you can do about it.<br />Love, TamiTamihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15351241818602229212noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8157652027484902267.post-21309065833170221862011-10-06T00:18:00.005-06:002011-11-11T01:47:52.879-07:00Dog ShenanigansMy poor baby dog, Lady, got an unintentional bikini wax last week.<br /><br />So, she (the dog) has this habit of running into my room and skedaddling under my bed for fun. She's sassy, and probably does it because she knows she doesn't have free range yet throughout the house. To avoid getting caught and thrown out of my room, she army crawls to the exact middle underneath the bed, so that I can't grab her. Earlier this month, I had placed some of those glue-board spider traps under there (which by the way, I find so rewarding to look at because once they've caught and killed some huge ugly spiders, they leave them on display for me to laugh at). I heard a pitiful whimpering noise coming from under my bed, so I leaned down to look. Lady had gotten a glue board stuck on one of her paws and one stuck on her butt. In a frenzied panic, she somehow managed to yank the one on her paw off, but she shot out from under my bed with the second glue board still stuck to one of her furry little butt cheeks.<br /><br />I enlisted my mom's help, and we tried to think of a way to get it off as painlessly as possible. We decided on the 'band-aid method' - tear it off really quickly and be done with it. The glue on those sons-of-guns are very thick and very sticky, so as I held her and my mom yanked it off, the glue board came away with pretty much all of the loose fur from Lady's booty. It didn't result in any bald spots, thank goodness, but I could tell it was not the most pleasant thing she had ever experienced.<br /><br />She has not gone under my bed since.Tamihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15351241818602229212noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8157652027484902267.post-61808305706464439072011-09-25T22:50:00.005-06:002011-09-25T23:12:32.312-06:00how to avoid negativity<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://d30opm7hsgivgh.cloudfront.net/upload/54803762_E5015Ui8_c.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 553px; height: 1680px;" src="http://d30opm7hsgivgh.cloudfront.net/upload/54803762_E5015Ui8_c.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a> I found this fabulous info-graphic through <a href="http://pinterest.com/tamalynkay/">Pinterest</a> (originally posted on <a href="http://thesecretyumiverse.wonderhowto.com/">The Secret Yumiverse</a>) a while ago, and I love it. LOVE IT. For many reasons. Because, not only is it hilarious, but I've also found that a few of the techniques it outlines are incredibly effective when I have to deal with a meanie-jerk on the phone at work. <br /><br />There have been many times that I have had to take a deep breath, and imagine an invisible force-field full of positive thoughts (#5) as a barrier between me and the jerk-monster on the phone, where all their meanness just bounces off. It works! Try it. I also like the one about every jerk monster having a sad human being trapped inside of it. When I try to remember this, it helps to humanize even the most obnoxious, vicious people, which makes it possible to send some compassion their way.Tamihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15351241818602229212noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8157652027484902267.post-27204689237837261482011-09-21T00:14:00.008-06:002011-09-25T23:13:34.759-06:00Dear Emma Stone,<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://ultimatepeopledatabase.com/images/2011/08/emma-stone-smile.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 420px; height: 600px;" src="http://ultimatepeopledatabase.com/images/2011/08/emma-stone-smile.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br />You have made me realize that my ghostly pale complexion is not fundamentally ugly. Thanks for making all of us <span style="font-style:italic;">whiter-than-chalk-even-in-the-middle-of-summer-girls</span> feel a little bit prettier.<br /><br />Love, TamiTamihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15351241818602229212noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8157652027484902267.post-33610999702460562062011-09-13T22:44:00.007-06:002011-09-25T23:14:48.695-06:00AugustOh hello there. I had a fabulous August, thank you very much. It was full and fun and sunny, just like summer months should be. <br /><br />I got my old job back (whew! relief!) which is awesome. I like survey work, weirdly enough, and I get to work full time. I sit at a desk all day and do crossword puzzles in between calls. I really don't mind calling people because 50% of the time, there is no answer/or I get an answering machine. 30% of the time, someone answers, but then they hang up after they hear the word 'survey.' (Don't worry. You don't hurt my feelings. I get it.) 10% of the time, a human being speaks back to me from the other end of the line, but they say they don't have time to do it, don't want to do it, or ask me to take them off my calling list (which I actually prefer, between that and rescheduling, because we don't want to call you back if you have no desire to ever do a survey and know you're never going to do it). That last 10% actually do the survey with me, with varying levels of enthusiasm. I love that 10%. I want to hug them forever (figuratively). I may or may not have added those up correctly to 100%. I'm an English major, so I'm not too hot at math. <br /><br />So when I wasn't working, I went camping/boating in Flaming Gorge with my family and actually got some color on my legs (shocking!), and went to Park City over a weekend with some girlfriends, Robyn & <a href="http://theboehmfamily.blogspot.com/">Meg</a>. It was a spectacular month. I can't find any pictures of Flaming Gorge, probably because I'm lazy and never take any pictures. However, here are some pictures from Park City. Which, oh man. I loved the shopping there. I think I need to go to those outlets every time I shop. They have the hugest discounts. Meg thankfully took these while we were there.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzr6s9JXLoxTk9Pva3CRLHmenBO55VBDCZevAgwW46ddvva8QbUc6KODxkysKzt8bBJE1q1ZrAdukMsRZ3WUCZgVn4GqygSdB-mcaeGvskwtcBtM6QTuhKQOl6SAlTvNb1WMwY9059SBM/s1600/315773_10150273071391743_599596742_8322758_4155167_n.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzr6s9JXLoxTk9Pva3CRLHmenBO55VBDCZevAgwW46ddvva8QbUc6KODxkysKzt8bBJE1q1ZrAdukMsRZ3WUCZgVn4GqygSdB-mcaeGvskwtcBtM6QTuhKQOl6SAlTvNb1WMwY9059SBM/s400/315773_10150273071391743_599596742_8322758_4155167_n.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652080020213781522" /></a>Me, Robyn, our yummy drinks, and my sunburned neckline.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvaBOoBsQMxTL1IiMgjxnHh506SUR7DCeR84FiphR3-UOeONKpoeFs8ut62mlWXcRf7sjkwsivhrmbbn0Ems6IYi18l9hTm_AT1RGAQ1YdNLe3-7ldOBoNKnK6mp1rZFWw5PxOWpWH_fM/s1600/315773_10150273071381743_599596742_8322756_3802076_n.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvaBOoBsQMxTL1IiMgjxnHh506SUR7DCeR84FiphR3-UOeONKpoeFs8ut62mlWXcRf7sjkwsivhrmbbn0Ems6IYi18l9hTm_AT1RGAQ1YdNLe3-7ldOBoNKnK6mp1rZFWw5PxOWpWH_fM/s400/315773_10150273071381743_599596742_8322756_3802076_n.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652080310447237458" /></a> Me, Megan, and my accidental 80's bra-strap exposure.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWRbnKO-1Xnt09bz64_kz1oWpC31A4TAgfSQRTzWmOFaDoPnsQ7WqMBqVux8t5fUKNdDajDBlxm-TDC_AbV6oP85qR9BunhSN82NVJ775iHz8H_Y0slefkidsGMVsZw2Ky2KpvYCPhGWs/s1600/299915_10150273077001743_599596742_8322823_3294199_n.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWRbnKO-1Xnt09bz64_kz1oWpC31A4TAgfSQRTzWmOFaDoPnsQ7WqMBqVux8t5fUKNdDajDBlxm-TDC_AbV6oP85qR9BunhSN82NVJ775iHz8H_Y0slefkidsGMVsZw2Ky2KpvYCPhGWs/s400/299915_10150273077001743_599596742_8322823_3294199_n.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652080499939546434" /></a>Megan 'pretending' to shut the murphy bed at (Robyn's family condo) with me still in it. Apparently, my double chin comes out and shows itself when I look scared. Like a frilled lizard. Just ignore it.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf2X-fD80arqxmL39_1TFLtzsnM0FuSEYxBMjNmWoT08qPn-AahTPLUF05U5AY_wd2gCKi2YdkQCQwY0nJ9xSVQh6-HheBMFxMB5SOM03pxkvS39CdDZV3ehWD6WC-mVY_V0JTE_LIYgg/s1600/318428_10150273075036743_599596742_8322803_1028099_n.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf2X-fD80arqxmL39_1TFLtzsnM0FuSEYxBMjNmWoT08qPn-AahTPLUF05U5AY_wd2gCKi2YdkQCQwY0nJ9xSVQh6-HheBMFxMB5SOM03pxkvS39CdDZV3ehWD6WC-mVY_V0JTE_LIYgg/s320/318428_10150273075036743_599596742_8322803_1028099_n.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652076807979447362" /></a> Fun! September has been pretty awesome so far as well! More on that later. Promise.Tamihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15351241818602229212noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8157652027484902267.post-63521968760302668762011-07-31T01:18:00.009-06:002011-11-11T01:48:23.683-07:00Honey, I'm home.I am not sure why I can't call Rexburg 'Home' yet, or if I will before I graduate (in 5-ish semesters). I live there 7 months out of the year, but there is an intangible pull towards my house and family in Kaysville that makes it my real home, even though I'm an adult and normally I would have my own place - full time - to live in by now.<br /><br />I like it anyways. I love being back, and I am almost completely moved in. I have no idea how on earth I fit all of my crap into my room. I think it multiplies in my closet when I'm not looking. I packed and stored most of it at a unit in Rexburg, but still - there is SO MUCH of it. I felt like a wizard when I was able to fit it all in my car, using nothing but my own two hands to move it all.<br /><br />So, I am home! And I have been unpacking, but have otherwise been quite lazy & laid back this week. I am crossing my fingers that my old workplace has a spot for me. Wish me luck on that, or I may have to do the whole take-two-jobs-at-once-in-order-to-make-enough-money thing again. Bleh.<br /><br />Oh, and also, I slipped down the stairs yesterday in a very painful and hilarious fashion. I did that thing where you put your foot juuuuuuust too far off of the carpeted step, and your foot slips out from under you. I threw my arms up, my phone flew out of my hands & hit the wall really hard (luckily, it made it through unscathed). In my wacky flailing, trying to find something to hold onto mid-fall, I bonked the flabby under part of my arm on the banister post. Yowzer. It hurts. I was going to take a picture of it to impress you with my toughness, but it doesn't look that impressive. It's just a large, nasty, speckled bruise.<br /><br />Lady, our dog, witnessed the whole thing. After being freaked out for a moment and staring at me, she seemed to decide I was playing some kind of new game and started jumping on my sprawled body. She's such a weirdo. It's a good thing she's cute.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW9kHUDeF7Vp0BWVh8uLA320ZT7VPkTfVVEPm17rvlAoMilG0G2duWdv92f3DYfYThcd5_bx8xDeDzbL72oZ5HgCXB0QyH5oOy5ZH75ZeiD2QhL9U1ZJ19rA9Hi82RZK3nTh3MmGm9v0hn/s1600/082.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 160px; height: 106px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW9kHUDeF7Vp0BWVh8uLA320ZT7VPkTfVVEPm17rvlAoMilG0G2duWdv92f3DYfYThcd5_bx8xDeDzbL72oZ5HgCXB0QyH5oOy5ZH75ZeiD2QhL9U1ZJ19rA9Hi82RZK3nTh3MmGm9v0hn/s1600/082.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />Photo from my sis <a href="http://colelinnae.blogspot.com/">Colie</a>Tamihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15351241818602229212noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8157652027484902267.post-25146718673077361712011-07-13T00:18:00.005-06:002011-09-25T23:18:26.038-06:00Harry Potter Notable Quotables: 6 & 7Oh man, you guys. The premiere is this week!<br /><br />Book 6 -<span style="font-style:italic;"> Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://img1.fantasticfiction.co.uk/images/n23/n119741.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 316px; height: 487px;" src="http://img1.fantasticfiction.co.uk/images/n23/n119741.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><blockquote><br /> "Ah, good evening Harry," said Dumbledore, looking up at him through his half-moon glasses with a most satisfied expression. "Excellent, excellent."<br /><br /> These words seemed to rouse Uncle Vernon. It was clear that as far as he was concerned, any man who could look at Harry and say "excellent" was a man with whom he could never see eye to eye.<br /><br /> "I don't mean to be rude--" he began, in a tone that threatened rudeness in every syllable.<br /><br /> "--yet, sadly, accidental rudeness occurs alarmingly often," Dumbledore finished the sentence gravely. "Best to say nothing at all, my dear man."<br />-----------------------------------------------------------------------------<br /><br />"And now, Harry, let us step out into the night and pursue that flighty temptress, adventure."<br /> -Dumbledore<br />------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br /><br />"Ginny came in to visit while you were unconscious," he [Ron] said, after a long pause, and Harry's imagination zoomed into overdrive, rapidly constructing a scene in which Ginny, weeping over his lifeless form, confessed her feelings of deep attraction to him while Ron game them his blessing..."She reckons you only just arrived on time for the match."<br />----------------------------------------------------------------------------<br /></blockquote><br />Book 7- <span style="font-style:italic;">Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://maxzook.files.wordpress.com/2007/05/deathly_hallows_adult_cover.png"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 418px; height: 595px;" src="http://maxzook.files.wordpress.com/2007/05/deathly_hallows_adult_cover.png" border="0" alt="" /></a><blockquote><br />Harry glanced over at the dark shapes they made on the floor beside him. Ron had had a fit of gallantry and insisted that Hermione sleep on the cushions from the sofa, so that her silhouette was raised above his.<br />-----------------------------------------------------------------------------<br /><br />Amycus moved forward until he was offensively close to Professor McGonagall, his face within inches of hers. She refused to back away, but looked down at him as if he were something disgusting she had found stuck to a lavatory seat.<br />----------------------------------------------------------------------------<br /><br />From the tip of his wand burst the silver doe: She landed on the office floor, bounded once across the office, and soared out of the window. Dumbledore watched her fly away, and as her silvery glow faded he turned back to Snape, and his eyes were full of tears.<br /><br /> "After all this time?"<br /><br /> "Always," said Snape.<br />--------------------------------------------------------------------------<br /><br />"Do not pity the dead, Harry. Pity the living, and, above all, those who live without love."<br /> -Dumbledore<br />---------------------------------------------------------------------------<br /><br />The house-elves of Hogwarts swarmed into the entrance hall, screaming and waving carving knives and cleavers, and at their head, the locket of Regulus Black bouncing on his chest, was Kreacher, his bullfrog's voice audible even above this din [...] They were hacking and stabbing at the ankles and shins of Death Eaters, their tiny faces alive with malice, and everywhere Harry looked Death Eaters were folding under sheer weight of numbers, overcome by spells, dragging arrows from wounds, stabbed in the leg by elves, or else simply attempting to escape, but swallowed by the oncoming horde.<br /></blockquote>Tamihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15351241818602229212noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8157652027484902267.post-14077480096254693792011-07-11T01:25:00.010-06:002011-09-25T23:19:22.260-06:004th of July Family-paloozaThis last week, we went as a family to Island Park and stayed in the most adorable little cabin you ever did see. I loved it. Even though I got bitten alive by bugs, wore entirely the wrong shoes hiking on a certain fishing expedition, and was terrified 60% of the time that I was going to meet my end as the meal of a grizzly bear, I had fun. I would do it all over again. Somehow I managed to not get tan - AT ALL. I think I have albino genes. Here are some pictures: (courtesy of my little sis Michelle - I am too lazy to take any)<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcMOHlkTMUkItDpzwKQ7WvBq7ne1mihtU-Dt6IfJD7RhVDKTD-qUP1CNmKVvxJdTM29_cUPQjcrw4epn28eHTmSnmL93rlb9O6pmXaJoMSCgGZcCD1WFszr2TLk2z_iKiMHv-5bqYfTQk/s1600/Island+Park+-+Michelle%252C+Nicole%252C+Tami.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcMOHlkTMUkItDpzwKQ7WvBq7ne1mihtU-Dt6IfJD7RhVDKTD-qUP1CNmKVvxJdTM29_cUPQjcrw4epn28eHTmSnmL93rlb9O6pmXaJoMSCgGZcCD1WFszr2TLk2z_iKiMHv-5bqYfTQk/s400/Island+Park+-+Michelle%252C+Nicole%252C+Tami.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5627997889686686706" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Me, backwards-modeling a pair of PJs that had a trap door in back:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsuGfVU9-EINCY8-2VCeD0rkxXi90nAq8tJcZyAIxyivkBAMKp38C-NUWgEi_jL-gcXchjXbpmEs4LmMtzQMUoh5InSt7cMs13aPZ7sPb1PGIw6aETgjXPZdmuSKrx5hjvwcDTp_WzeSA/s1600/Tami+Pajamas.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsuGfVU9-EINCY8-2VCeD0rkxXi90nAq8tJcZyAIxyivkBAMKp38C-NUWgEi_jL-gcXchjXbpmEs4LmMtzQMUoh5InSt7cMs13aPZ7sPb1PGIw6aETgjXPZdmuSKrx5hjvwcDTp_WzeSA/s400/Tami+Pajamas.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5627998154375455106" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Me and the sissies:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixmbscqAjTXisBnmsfRFQ0_Vp6oFPU29iRnFr90HvmWwPOG3iwLKXt3ERES6T2cectEuIf_dJWTISCBZYfGj3ZQf6Hvuo72aRkXaw0LG8KdOfIINY03UzOhvrhxc60uHCdOYEW2Oq0YT8/s1600/261479_10150228275342371_607077370_7691638_2715301_n.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixmbscqAjTXisBnmsfRFQ0_Vp6oFPU29iRnFr90HvmWwPOG3iwLKXt3ERES6T2cectEuIf_dJWTISCBZYfGj3ZQf6Hvuo72aRkXaw0LG8KdOfIINY03UzOhvrhxc60uHCdOYEW2Oq0YT8/s400/261479_10150228275342371_607077370_7691638_2715301_n.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5627998535157221042" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />Me, sinking in some quicksand in a lake (and probably swearing in my head):<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgido8nRr1VVmrc6U5ZwAuJQCNgQeXkgQVpPCQ8E9hhXelR1Q_PMl-vDs-0ztcSKNUwLZYywyC7LEQGD15coWS2knSlp_Wgt2ADP9SzNQYDes199QeKbKZ9mtZ-yaDF2WMiQPDqVebrqdo/s1600/263769_10150228274212371_607077370_7691622_1055797_n.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgido8nRr1VVmrc6U5ZwAuJQCNgQeXkgQVpPCQ8E9hhXelR1Q_PMl-vDs-0ztcSKNUwLZYywyC7LEQGD15coWS2knSlp_Wgt2ADP9SzNQYDes199QeKbKZ9mtZ-yaDF2WMiQPDqVebrqdo/s400/263769_10150228274212371_607077370_7691622_1055797_n.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5627998691734650914" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Papa Booth snoozing:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjslPcfUI8gFm2SimC-WoB9nZJHZa66agzi8oE2XvnvbzmlRwZ_f0ioyTyj6fJX3KpeZZo4mkK9yPszad0uCeCbYinIQO-WAOSd1q6nSnGNYHccIqb2SSfqbxIcfxHYAtkMjfdD2Ce1fv4/s1600/270734_10150228273952371_607077370_7691616_6179554_n.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjslPcfUI8gFm2SimC-WoB9nZJHZa66agzi8oE2XvnvbzmlRwZ_f0ioyTyj6fJX3KpeZZo4mkK9yPszad0uCeCbYinIQO-WAOSd1q6nSnGNYHccIqb2SSfqbxIcfxHYAtkMjfdD2Ce1fv4/s400/270734_10150228273952371_607077370_7691616_6179554_n.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5627998938902736258" border="0" /></a><br /><br />The marrieds:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXmks6NR5gBVoLzL0hTYHSDvBCYQtEsfeVQF-r7aaHDgs_2GhvmqrYxERvXYYKRd7yNdTgdlurkC_UHkV-kaA4a99ka3iNHyh3J5hoZaHWDb0tX5QdgblLB2THVcHFEFBlacSu8XR364c/s1600/269484_10150228275412371_607077370_7691639_7826606_n.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXmks6NR5gBVoLzL0hTYHSDvBCYQtEsfeVQF-r7aaHDgs_2GhvmqrYxERvXYYKRd7yNdTgdlurkC_UHkV-kaA4a99ka3iNHyh3J5hoZaHWDb0tX5QdgblLB2THVcHFEFBlacSu8XR364c/s400/269484_10150228275412371_607077370_7691639_7826606_n.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5627999116995929938" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Good ol' Lake Hebgen:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM6v7BWhq1jQE0eMaZZ6L8fz5Orb8lw14sJd7txvSdsi1qQ6U7QUlmR1rPBEXF5Xw__K6fTqpwYjNLqSASQNiBjvr8voZHSBNns5RgyhI-u0CiUzJ3ZN6E45NB7oV4vFxfGXbTJR6rA5E/s1600/Hebgen.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM6v7BWhq1jQE0eMaZZ6L8fz5Orb8lw14sJd7txvSdsi1qQ6U7QUlmR1rPBEXF5Xw__K6fTqpwYjNLqSASQNiBjvr8voZHSBNns5RgyhI-u0CiUzJ3ZN6E45NB7oV4vFxfGXbTJR6rA5E/s400/Hebgen.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5627999260161939586" border="0" /></a><br /></div>Tamihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15351241818602229212noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8157652027484902267.post-12781018751957991372011-07-01T23:47:00.005-06:002011-09-25T23:20:08.549-06:00Harry Potter Notable Quotables: Book 5<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3372/3275992540_24f831c070.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 307px; height: 500px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3372/3275992540_24f831c070.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br /><blockquote>When Sirius wrested a large golden ring bearing the Black crest from his grip Kreacher actually burst into furious tears and left the room sobbing under his breath and calling Sirius names Harry had never heard before. <br /><br />"It was my father's," said Sirius, throwing the ring into the sack. "Kreacher wasn't quite as devoted to him as to my mother, <span style="font-weight:bold;">but I still caught him snogging a pair of my father's old trousers last week.</span>"<br /><br />-----------------------------------------------------------------------</blockquote><br /><blockquote>"How're you feeling?" Ginny asked Ron, who was now staring into the dregs of milk at the bottom of his empty cereal bowl as though seriously considering attempting to drown himself in them.<br /><br />-----------------------------------------------------------------------</blockquote><br /><blockquote>"Harry, I owe you an explanation," said Dumbledore. "An explanation of an old man's mistakes. For I see now that what I have done, and not done, with regard to you, bears all the hallmarks of the failings of age. Youth cannot know how age thinks and feels. But old men are guilty if they forget what it was to be young."</blockquote>Tamihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15351241818602229212noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8157652027484902267.post-15637684432775049952011-06-23T13:50:00.007-06:002011-09-25T23:21:48.179-06:00What I've been up toI have been a busy girl, so my blog has been rather neglected. I am currently:<br /><br />- schooling full time<br />- working part time<br />- being awesome all the time<br /><br />JK, I made that last one up. That list seems shorter than it should be. Oh, yea, I also started an <a href="http://www.etsy.com/shop/whatmarvelousthings">Etsy shop</a> because I have a really poor grasp on how many hours are actually in a day. It is a blast. It's a work in progress, so more on that later. <br /><br />I do still fear that I'll not be able to keep juggling everything and I'll have a mental breakdown and be found by my roommates at the end of the semester rocking back and forth in my closet with my eyes glazed over mumbling things about possessive pronouns and Mesopotamian trade routes. If that is the case, you'll know why.<br /><br />Lurve, TamiTamihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15351241818602229212noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8157652027484902267.post-43525904410856588142011-06-18T23:03:00.005-06:002011-11-11T01:47:23.640-07:00Classroom QuotesBoth from my Grammar professor:<br /><br />"...will you be marked down if you don't put a comma there? Only if your teacher is a Hitler-psychopath. I don't really care."<br /><br />"I should warn you. If you become a fantasy author, you will cause kids to become nerds. Can you live with that?"Tamihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15351241818602229212noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8157652027484902267.post-74298234672067851572011-05-23T19:58:00.003-06:002011-11-11T01:49:16.640-07:00Quote of the Dayfrom my professor:<br /><br />"My son went through a slightly rebellious stage - he started wearing beanies and I know for a fact that he was listening to Beastie Boys."Tamihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15351241818602229212noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8157652027484902267.post-61785922143512507422011-05-20T09:42:00.005-06:002011-11-11T01:49:58.362-07:00Dear Royal Newlyweds,You had the raddest wedding ever, complete with a carriage ride through the streets and an adorably cranky junior bridesmaid.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBHdrAteSa4fb51oG-Js-0Rx9uyBIZYwCit-sYXC-Al2V2cHeMe2D9bTtWxYsXdD8ZmgWNRCKP0i45Irn8C7JQPLERb8VBeccwCHSUdG5pgrPe62NOAF-gqaS0Ysiczzar-PDLT0A8sPU/s1600/cranky+bridesmaid.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 296px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBHdrAteSa4fb51oG-Js-0Rx9uyBIZYwCit-sYXC-Al2V2cHeMe2D9bTtWxYsXdD8ZmgWNRCKP0i45Irn8C7JQPLERb8VBeccwCHSUdG5pgrPe62NOAF-gqaS0Ysiczzar-PDLT0A8sPU/s320/cranky+bridesmaid.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5608826883678591874" border="0" /></a><br /><br />I didn't think I could love you even more than I do, but then I read <a href="http://abcnews.go.com/International/royal-wedding-kate-middleton-hits-grocery-store/story?id=13551751">this</a>. And it happened: I love you even more.<br /><br />You don't have a staff - no cook, no butler, no limo drivers - nothing (well, besides security, but duh). You live a shockingly normal, modest life for the future King and Queen of the oldest surviving monarchy in the world.<br /><br />What I'm trying to say is...<br />Can we be besties? So you can invite me over for tea and crumpets at your grandma's place and I can play with her corgis while I wear a fancy hat? Pleeeeeeease? (Have your people call my people.)<br />Love,<br />TamiTamihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15351241818602229212noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8157652027484902267.post-1516140217509923852011-05-10T14:47:00.004-06:002011-11-11T01:50:45.382-07:00Dream Spectrum<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.psdgraphics.com/file/yellow-highlighter-pen.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 160px; height: 128px;" src="http://www.psdgraphics.com/file/yellow-highlighter-pen.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Sometimes, I have dreams so fantastical and bizarre that I wonder where on earth my brain comes up with this stuff. Other times, though, my dreams are so incredibly mundane and normal that I wonder why my subconscious even bothers to whip them up. Maybe I just don't know how to have dreams that are in the normalcy mid-range. For example, last night I dreamed that I bought a really great hi-liter from the bookstore. In my dream, I then went home and studied and was really impressed by how great the hi-liter worked.<br /><br />That's all. I woke up, and I kind of wanted to go to the bookstore to check out their selection of hi-liters.Tamihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15351241818602229212noreply@blogger.com0