You could say it's been a stressful week.
Or month and a half? Because that's how long I've been thinking they're the same person.
Hi. Welcome to my awkward life.
Showing posts with label stories. Show all posts
Showing posts with label stories. Show all posts
2.14.2013
news flash
So, just found out a girl in my ward named Julia is NOT the same Julia in my Living Prophets class.
12.26.2012
creep follow-up
Lindsey, you win*.
Sorry to the rest of you (and by that I mean David because I was very disappointed only two people deemed it necessary to share).
I know there's more creeper stories out there. Together, I think we can all pull through this and find a light at the end of this creepy tunnel. We can try to act a little more socially acceptable alone in our rooms, and stop stalking people.
Ha. Who am I kidding? Carry on.
Since I promised, my ultimate creeper story goes as follows:
One night my dear friend Kendra came to pick me up. We had no set plans, deciding instead to make them up as we went. It of course makes sense, then, that when she pulled up to my house in a large, white, 15-seater van, we went with that. It was the ultimate creepster van, and even had curtains and blinds we could pull down to be MORE creepy. We decided to stalk people.
So off we drove into the relatively safe city of Cedar Hills, looking for our first victim. Since we still had some common sense, we decided not to stalk any girls who were alone. Upon reaching our destination (the high school), Kendra and I noticed two acquaintances of ours heading to their cars after a debate tournament of some kind. Picking our unsuspecting friend, Nicco, we proceeded to follow him home.
Somewhere into his neighborhood he became aware there was a white van following his every twist and turn. Still, he proceeded to head to his home (something I'd probably not recommend), and when he got out of his car to walk to his door, Nicco walked slowly and with a very suspicious look at our van. Our van slowed to a crawl while we watched him enter his house (at this point his friend had showed up too, so thank goodness he wasn't alone), and then we proceeded to screech off into the night.
A creepy job well done, and an incredibly fun memory. I guess a few days later Kendra decided to come clean and tell Nicco it had been us, and it turns out Nicco's family had been out of town (which made him twice as scared), and he slept with a knife under his pillow that night.
So... I don't recommend this, kiddies. Let's not scare too many people, shall we? Keep the creeping to your rooms and through the computers, yes?
Also, I hope you all had a wonderfully merry Christmas yesterday! I know my day was delightful and informal. Staying in with my family and never changing out of my pajamas was the best decision ever.
*I don't really have a prize for you except for a virtual pat on the back. So... *pat* ...there.
Sorry to the rest of you (and by that I mean David because I was very disappointed only two people deemed it necessary to share).
I know there's more creeper stories out there. Together, I think we can all pull through this and find a light at the end of this creepy tunnel. We can try to act a little more socially acceptable alone in our rooms, and stop stalking people.
Ha. Who am I kidding? Carry on.
Since I promised, my ultimate creeper story goes as follows:
One night my dear friend Kendra came to pick me up. We had no set plans, deciding instead to make them up as we went. It of course makes sense, then, that when she pulled up to my house in a large, white, 15-seater van, we went with that. It was the ultimate creepster van, and even had curtains and blinds we could pull down to be MORE creepy. We decided to stalk people.
So off we drove into the relatively safe city of Cedar Hills, looking for our first victim. Since we still had some common sense, we decided not to stalk any girls who were alone. Upon reaching our destination (the high school), Kendra and I noticed two acquaintances of ours heading to their cars after a debate tournament of some kind. Picking our unsuspecting friend, Nicco, we proceeded to follow him home.
Somewhere into his neighborhood he became aware there was a white van following his every twist and turn. Still, he proceeded to head to his home (something I'd probably not recommend), and when he got out of his car to walk to his door, Nicco walked slowly and with a very suspicious look at our van. Our van slowed to a crawl while we watched him enter his house (at this point his friend had showed up too, so thank goodness he wasn't alone), and then we proceeded to screech off into the night.
A creepy job well done, and an incredibly fun memory. I guess a few days later Kendra decided to come clean and tell Nicco it had been us, and it turns out Nicco's family had been out of town (which made him twice as scared), and he slept with a knife under his pillow that night.
So... I don't recommend this, kiddies. Let's not scare too many people, shall we? Keep the creeping to your rooms and through the computers, yes?
Also, I hope you all had a wonderfully merry Christmas yesterday! I know my day was delightful and informal. Staying in with my family and never changing out of my pajamas was the best decision ever.
*I don't really have a prize for you except for a virtual pat on the back. So... *pat* ...there.
7.17.2011
I really needed a pensieve this weekend.
Thursday was stressful preparation.
Friday was my sister's wedding.
Saturday was my birthday.
Oh wait, did I forget something? Yes, Harry Potter was Thursday too.
Want to hear a story? Okay:
[me trying to explain how much i love Harry Potter, yada yada... just know it's immense. can't do it justice.]
Okay so the premiere of the LAST movie is here. THE LAST. And we all realize months ago that the evening of the premiere is the night before my sister's wedding. That's pretty big deal, for those of you who don't understand. Maybe it's just my family (probably not - but i have to say this because i feel like some people will be like, "wow. i've had a family wedding before and i easily could've had made it to the midnight premiere."), but this wedding was really just a HUGE deal. The bride's in my family, which means we get to do the beautiful reception that was a lot of work. Also, The bride and groom returned from Europe 10 days before the fateful day.
We tried to get tickets, but due to the fact that I sort of didn't think about it because I had other things on my mine (work, wedding, etc.), I missed the date they started selling tickets for the epic (as in real epic) event (and yes, i'll admit i did sort of drop the ball on this one, not focusing on getting tickets). I turned down an invite with friends, because we had the family dinner the evening before the wedding, and I knew that I was going to go to the movie with my younger siblings and the siblings of my soon to be (who is now) brother-in-law. Since we had things going on all day Thursday, I knew I had to get tickets at a theater with reserved seating because I didn't have the time to wait in line (which is truly such a tragedy because waiting in line is the best. ever).
So I go to the theater, and the only thing available is 3D tickets. I purchase them reluctantly. Only as we're driving home do I realize I REALLY don't want to go see it in 3D. It wouldn't seem... right (hopefully other true fans can understand this mentality). So I try to find other ways of seeing it. Maybe hoping we can get them at a theater without reserved seating, and have a family in the ward wait in line early then see it with us? Yeah, that doesn't work out. We have so much going on in June with wedding prep.
Enter my angelic late Young Women's president, who texts me one day and says she had tickets to an early showing on the evening of Thursday - 9 o'clock. She knew of my love and invited me as her "particular guest".
I'm gonna skip the part where I think I can go then try to see if we can get tickets for six people because not only are we bridesmaids and groomsmen going but my best friend is in town too then have my mom tell me no if it's far away which it is then have a big long talk with both my parents trying to work out going then shed a few tears then have my mom talk to the husband of the young women's leader because his work is the only reason we have tickets in the first place then finally getting six tickets and being able to leave the dinner a tad bit early to drive 30 minutes and see the movie. The movie of a lifetime.
We literally ran into the theater, and the movie started seconds later. I was still panting for the first 3 minutes.
The movie was.... ah. Hmmm... I just... I can't.... words are inadequate. I cried. I laughed. I cheered with fist pumps when no one else did. I cried some more. I clenched my fists. My jaw dropped. I looked on with awe. And then the movie ended and the screen went black and I cried because it was over.
No, I didn't see this movie how I would have loved to - waiting for 12+ hours in line with other crazy fans, dressed up, playing games, laughing, counting down the minutes to the movie, etc.
But what matters is I saw it, and it was perfection.
I love Harry Potter, okay? That's really all I'm trying to say with this post. And excuse me for not posting it earlier, at least now it's not as swallowed up in other similar posts of the blogging world. I was just a little busy this weekend.
And for those of you who think I'm insensitive for focusing on Harry Potter and not my sister's wedding, that was incredible too. Better than Harry, because it will last forever. I'll post about that soon, I just want some good pictures to go with it.
3.01.2011
natural
So a few weeks ago, I began to notice that the area around my left eye was hurting. Not the eye itself, but sort of the cheekbone and eyebrow area surrounding. And I said, "You know what? That's weird." And I mentioned it to my mom.
Even weirder things happened...
The area started to get closer and closer to my actual eye! Whereas before it had just been the before-mentioned bone areas, suddenly the... dark circle area... whatever it's technical term is... was hurting too.
My mother and I decided I should probably go to the doctor and check this out. When she called to make an appointment, the nurse said it was probably a sty, but since it was something dealing with the eye area, they wanted me to come in just to make sure. Because, you know, eyes... they're only a little important.
I entered the doctor's office.
The carefully sanitized waiting room still managed to make me feel like I was getting a little more sick. The colorful chairs, the tiny playhouse, the worn out magazines, all touched by sick patients. I'm not one to get jumpy about germs, but that waiting room isn't really my favorite place on the earth.
I went in and was told that yes, I have a sty. Throw away your current eye makeup. Don't wear makeup until it goes away. Hot wet washcloths whenever possible. Nothing else to do.
And that was a really lame story (though fear not - that was just the prelude). So if you would like the alternate ending to the story, please scroll to the bottom.*
So I did what I was told (except, maybe, for the washcloth thing. I might have failed a little on that).
And we get to my point:
I didn't wear makeup for a week and a half.
At first, I was excited. I had this sort of "Let everyone see what I truly look like!" mentality, thinking that it would be a breeze. And it really wasn't too bad.
But there were times when I would pass a mirror in the halls of good ol' Lone Peak, and be really alarmed by my appearance. I would be frustrated by my looks.
And then I would be frustrated that I was frustrated. Because why does it even matter?!
And it kind of became this tiny little battle inside of me:
I look great without makeup!
Oh, I miss my makeup!
I don't look so good.
Well, shooooot. Don't say that! - You look wonderful! (yes, talking to self)
I look great without makeup!
Again and again.
So I learned some things.
1) I can look fine without makeup. In fact, I really don't need it.
2) Girls need to realize this.
3) Lack of makeup makes your face clear up!
4) Without makeup, I can get ready in the morning in record time.
Obviously the biggest one is #1. I feel really good about this realization. Is was nice to look in a mirror by the end of the week and just say to myself, "Yes, this is me. It's not artificial, it's not enhanced. It's just Anna."
Now I'm not saying makeup is bad. I'll be completely honest and say I really like it. It's fun to play with, to get all dolled up. I'm just saying it's nice to have that reminder that the stuff I put on each morning is not me. It's what's underneath!
Aaaand enough of my cliche rambling.
Have a lovely day.
*I entered the doctor's office.
Instantly the smell of a thousand ill children greeted me in a sickly chorus of "Welcome to the Pediatrics office!". An unattractive turquoise paint pealed from the walls, revealing the previous color - a mustard yellow. As I attempted to find a seat as far away from the sicklies as possible, two children came running up to me, one obviously infected with pink-eye in both eyes. The other, face and hands covered in snot, clutched at my legs furiously, burrowing his red face into my sweats and giggling like he had some secret I wanted to know.
But no, I didn't. I didn't want anything to do with these infected children.
My savior arrived in the form of a voice calling "Anna?"
I quickly stood and raised my hand, trying to claw the kids from off of me as I maneuvered through the brightly colored chairs, the stacks of cheap blocks, and the seemingly hundreds of children.
The nurse smiled wickedly as she opened the door to let me pass. I wondered, briefly, if this was the better choice - following her, and putting myself in the clutches of this lowly establishment, and people the claimed to be "certified". The moment of reflecting passed, however, as soon as I passed through the door.
Because then I knew this wasn't the better choice.
A cement hallway, dim light bulbs showing me down the forsaken passage. A stead drip could be heard farther down, as if a pipe had burst overhead long ago and never been fixed. A cold draft traveled up my legs, and I shivered.
I turned around to head back out, but too late. The nurse closed the heavy door with a slam, and laughed derisively.
"Going somewhere..." she checked a clipboard, "...Anna?"
My insides squirmed with the way she said my name - as though this was the last time I would ever hear it.
"Uh, well." I stammered, "I just... f-forgot my purse." I paused and took in her stare. "...In the waiting room." I finished lamely.
She grinned. "Oh, you won't be needing that. Follow me." She turned and started down the hallway without looking back. I decided I'd stay there - there was no way I was letting her lead me to my death. But as she passed each light bulb, it went out, and soon it was near pitch black around me. In a split second decision - one which weighed who's company I'd rather have: spiders or this deranged nurse - I followed after her.
After a minute or two, we stopped outside large metal door, inscribed with the number 13 (just my luck). The nameless nurse pulled out a ring of keys, chose one, and stuck it in the lock. It seemed jammed for a moment, but after a jiggling it for a moment, the door swung open with a creak. It opened, of course, on a pitch black room. The nurse turned back towards me and smiled in her bone-chilling way.
"Won't you join the others?"
And she pushed me inside with a cackle.
Even weirder things happened...
The area started to get closer and closer to my actual eye! Whereas before it had just been the before-mentioned bone areas, suddenly the... dark circle area... whatever it's technical term is... was hurting too.
My mother and I decided I should probably go to the doctor and check this out. When she called to make an appointment, the nurse said it was probably a sty, but since it was something dealing with the eye area, they wanted me to come in just to make sure. Because, you know, eyes... they're only a little important.
I entered the doctor's office.
The carefully sanitized waiting room still managed to make me feel like I was getting a little more sick. The colorful chairs, the tiny playhouse, the worn out magazines, all touched by sick patients. I'm not one to get jumpy about germs, but that waiting room isn't really my favorite place on the earth.
I went in and was told that yes, I have a sty. Throw away your current eye makeup. Don't wear makeup until it goes away. Hot wet washcloths whenever possible. Nothing else to do.
And that was a really lame story (though fear not - that was just the prelude). So if you would like the alternate ending to the story, please scroll to the bottom.*
So I did what I was told (except, maybe, for the washcloth thing. I might have failed a little on that).
And we get to my point:
I didn't wear makeup for a week and a half.
At first, I was excited. I had this sort of "Let everyone see what I truly look like!" mentality, thinking that it would be a breeze. And it really wasn't too bad.
But there were times when I would pass a mirror in the halls of good ol' Lone Peak, and be really alarmed by my appearance. I would be frustrated by my looks.
And then I would be frustrated that I was frustrated. Because why does it even matter?!
And it kind of became this tiny little battle inside of me:
I look great without makeup!
Oh, I miss my makeup!
I don't look so good.
Well, shooooot. Don't say that! - You look wonderful! (yes, talking to self)
I look great without makeup!
Again and again.
So I learned some things.
1) I can look fine without makeup. In fact, I really don't need it.
2) Girls need to realize this.
3) Lack of makeup makes your face clear up!
4) Without makeup, I can get ready in the morning in record time.
Obviously the biggest one is #1. I feel really good about this realization. Is was nice to look in a mirror by the end of the week and just say to myself, "Yes, this is me. It's not artificial, it's not enhanced. It's just Anna."
Now I'm not saying makeup is bad. I'll be completely honest and say I really like it. It's fun to play with, to get all dolled up. I'm just saying it's nice to have that reminder that the stuff I put on each morning is not me. It's what's underneath!
Aaaand enough of my cliche rambling.
Have a lovely day.
*I entered the doctor's office.
Instantly the smell of a thousand ill children greeted me in a sickly chorus of "Welcome to the Pediatrics office!". An unattractive turquoise paint pealed from the walls, revealing the previous color - a mustard yellow. As I attempted to find a seat as far away from the sicklies as possible, two children came running up to me, one obviously infected with pink-eye in both eyes. The other, face and hands covered in snot, clutched at my legs furiously, burrowing his red face into my sweats and giggling like he had some secret I wanted to know.
But no, I didn't. I didn't want anything to do with these infected children.
My savior arrived in the form of a voice calling "Anna?"
I quickly stood and raised my hand, trying to claw the kids from off of me as I maneuvered through the brightly colored chairs, the stacks of cheap blocks, and the seemingly hundreds of children.
The nurse smiled wickedly as she opened the door to let me pass. I wondered, briefly, if this was the better choice - following her, and putting myself in the clutches of this lowly establishment, and people the claimed to be "certified". The moment of reflecting passed, however, as soon as I passed through the door.
Because then I knew this wasn't the better choice.
A cement hallway, dim light bulbs showing me down the forsaken passage. A stead drip could be heard farther down, as if a pipe had burst overhead long ago and never been fixed. A cold draft traveled up my legs, and I shivered.
I turned around to head back out, but too late. The nurse closed the heavy door with a slam, and laughed derisively.
"Going somewhere..." she checked a clipboard, "...Anna?"
My insides squirmed with the way she said my name - as though this was the last time I would ever hear it.
"Uh, well." I stammered, "I just... f-forgot my purse." I paused and took in her stare. "...In the waiting room." I finished lamely.
She grinned. "Oh, you won't be needing that. Follow me." She turned and started down the hallway without looking back. I decided I'd stay there - there was no way I was letting her lead me to my death. But as she passed each light bulb, it went out, and soon it was near pitch black around me. In a split second decision - one which weighed who's company I'd rather have: spiders or this deranged nurse - I followed after her.
After a minute or two, we stopped outside large metal door, inscribed with the number 13 (just my luck). The nameless nurse pulled out a ring of keys, chose one, and stuck it in the lock. It seemed jammed for a moment, but after a jiggling it for a moment, the door swung open with a creak. It opened, of course, on a pitch black room. The nurse turned back towards me and smiled in her bone-chilling way.
"Won't you join the others?"
And she pushed me inside with a cackle.
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