Red Boxers and Rice

My work schedule has been shifted around so now I'm working nights at the restaurant from 4 to 11 pm. Not a big deal.

The only thing...I'm kind of a bum during the day. And I'm loving it.

I basically spent my whole morning sitting around in my bright red boxer shorts (yes, they are mine--bought them at a train station actually. They have a train on the rump and say "cute caboose". It's written on the rump so it must be true) painting, jamming out to some tasty jams on the grooveshark.com account. For fun, I threw on some bright red lipstick and wrapped my hair up in a bandana. Artsy fartsy, I know.

Then I did dishes.

Snuck around the apartment with pepper spray and a pan....convinced there was someone else hiding in one of my roommates' rooms having heard a noise. Red boxer shorts, red lips, a pan, and pepper spray. A fierce combination for sure. I thought my heart was going to bounce out of my chest every time I opened a door to check for intruders/hairy green monsters. I haven't gotten up the courage to check under the beds yet. I'll leave that to the roomie when she comes home. If something grabs her ankles...well....I'll let her borrow my pepper spray. And lipstick. She'll be fiiiiiiiiiine.

I played my guitar for a while. Mastered the C Major scale. If you play, you're probably thinking 'big whoop...that's so easy!' To that thought I reply with 'Yes! And now I know how easy it is!'. So there.

And now I'm making rice for lunch. Trying to save money for school....textbooks are going to cost about 300 this year... Still haven't bought all my groceries yet. I did buy some Lucky Charms and milk though. Can't go without those marshmallow sugary bits of energy to start out the day. Found some beans too! I hear they're a magical fruit.

Today I'm grateful for investing in these red boxer shorts. And for rice and beans. And for not finding any hairy green monsters. Or blue or red or pink or purple ones either. Purple people eaters are the worst.
Cheers to days not spent at work and making the most of them. Eh?

HOLY SHOOT THE POWER JUST FLICKERED ON AND OFF. Totally not paranoid or freaked out at all. No...no no no..not me.....*locks bedroom door* climbs under covers*........

Dating Stories

I have got to stop letting people set me up on blind dates. Since arriving at college, I've almost been on more blind dates than regular ones. Almost. But still. I'm flattered my friends are so concerned about my relationship status buuuuuuuut.........I think I got it. Ya know?

This date was bland and the fella a bit boring. Nice.  But really really boring. I found myself day dreaming while he talked. Seriously. My mind was so far gone, I'm surprised he didn't notice the glazed over look in my eye. My older brother insists that its quite noticeable and very rude. (Say something more interesting, than, big bro! hehehe).
But it got me thinking about  all those other crazy dates I've been on and all those crazy fellas I've dated (or  haven't but who didn't go down without a fight).  Mainly from high school. Some from college. And though most memories are very ridiculous, it makes me laugh in retrospect. So I'm grateful for all the dating stories and all those fellas who managed to get Melissa Tingey out on a date. I think a few of them still have their "I took Melissa Tingey out on a date and all I got was this stupid t-shirt" shirts.....

Here are some of my best stories or at least my most memorable ones (all names have been changed...just in case....don't want any awkward, angry text messages, or heaven forbid--strongly worded emails!)

I'm not sure how best to record all these so I'm just going to start.

I once thought I liked a boy (usually how it all starts, right?) until he came over and started clipping his fingernails on my kitchen table......all the while talking about this and that--completely oblivious to my dead-giveaway facial expression that I was very uncomfortable with his growing pile of clippings. He wanted to see me but this also needed to be done. What a multi-tasker! He'll make someone very happy some day I'm sure.

Another time I had the move put on me by two guys at the same time on the same night on the same couch. We were all watching a movie. Me being oblivious and naiive as to why these boys sat on either side of me. Thinking their intentions were entirely honorable and innocent. It was the comfiest couch! How was I supposed to know or predict what was going to happen?  Boy #1 went low, sneaking his arm around my waist, right behind my back while Boy #2 went high, moments after Boy #1 made his move, doing the cool and classic "yawn stretch" to get his arm around my shoulders. Probably one of the funniest and most awkward situations I've ever been in. What's more is that these two boys were friends. We were all friends. I thought we were all JUST FRIENDS. So I sat there, rigid, hands in my lap, being careful not to lean left or right. Trying not to laugh. Face incredibly red. Grateful for the lights being off. Just watching a movie, right? How did I get out of that one? I don't remember. I might have blacked out. Or maybe I think I just sat forward. Both boys withdrew after that. It was never spoken of. Yah, I probably blacked out...

Then once upon a time, there was a boy named Ned (not really--I just made up that name)...or shall we call him Bruno? I've always wanted to date a guy named Bruno (also not true--just made that up as well. Didn't even think about ever dating a guy named Bruno until just now but now that I think about it, I'm sure it wouldn't be all that bad. Melissa and Bruno.....ick....totally a dog's name. Nevermind. I don't like Bruno.) Or I mean let's just call him Fredererick (say it right! There are two 'er's in there). Fred for short. This guy was trouble. Total cowboy. Tan from the sun, lean muscles. Loved to sing country songs in my ear and dance me across the floor (cheesy, I know). We just graduated high school, one of those hot summer nights. We had gone down to the creek to go swimming and were just heading back into town. Driving in my geo metro, singing to the radio, windows rolled down. I had a tank top on.....and well..... a bug flew in. A big nasty bug. Went right down the front of that yellow tank top. Right between the girls. And what did I do? Screaming, both hands still on the wheel, I crushed that little bug......crushed him good.......Fred's face was priceless. Eyes got big, not understanding what was going on or why I suddenly had such great cleavage (I apologize, I'm usually very modest but come on...we were swimming). Snickering the whole time and quite mortified that I had just squished a nasty nasty thing in between my cha-chas, I asked him to look away while I dug out what little remained of that poor little bugger who was probably just flying along enjoying himself. Not paying attention and certainly unaware of the violation he was about to carry out. HA! I know, I know....not one of my most lady-like moments in all of history. We also serenaded a biker while at a stoplight that night. Loud and obnoxious, singing out the window. Teenagers. Sheesh.
I really liked Fred. He would always say really cheesy, sweet things to me and even though I usually laughed in his face whenever he gave one of his lines, he still wanted to hang out. Also a great kisser.
We hung out a lot. We also went swimming a lot. Another Summer's night, I snuck out of my house around midnight. We went down to a lake to go for a swim under the full moon. Pretty cool. The only thing about impromptu adventures, however, is that they're, well--impromptu--and don't really give you anytime to, .....prepare properly. And by that I mean, I definitely went wearing shorts without having shaved my legs in an embarrassingly long time. So while sitting on the bank of the water, Fred scootched up nice and close, and laid is hand on my bare, prickly thigh. And froze. I felt him tense. So. BAD. And I started laughing. So. hard.
It's okay, I said, you can move your hand, I won't be offended. I know it's bad.
No, no! Was his reply. It's totally fine.
And there we sat for a few more minutes, me laughing really hard and Fred too nice to remove his hand off my prickly thigh. HA! If I were normal, I probably would have hid my face in shame and embarrassment and never speak to Fred again. But no. I laughed. And laughed and laughed. Oh stubborn Fred. If you ever read this, I hope you are doing well.

Then there was this guy I dated in high school. Bad boy. Total idiot. And so was I for dating him. Parents didn't approve and they were definitely in the right to forbid me to continue dating this kid. We'll name him Laman (did I just do a Book of Mormon reference and compare this past boyfriend of mine to Laman who was also not so nice in the Book of Mormon? Why yes, yes I did. You're quick to catch on...). I suppose the funniest time with Laman was when I pushed him out of my car.....while I was still driving. Sure, I was only going about 25 mph.....only.....My mother, bless her, was rightfully suspicious that I had been with Laman. So she was following me in her car around town. I sped away, turning corners, giving myself enough space to lose the baggage. He rolled nice. Right into the dirt. After all the drama he caused, I look back on that with amusement and satisfaction. hehehe

Oh and lots not forget about the time a guy took me to a Rockies game. We'll call him "Guy". While I was standing up cheering, stretching my legs, Guy thought it'd be cute to slap me in the butt. Take care, I had only gone on a few dates with this kid and still barely knew him. So, being me, I turned around, slapped him pretty hard in the face, and then continued enjoying myself at the game. Cheering as if nothing had happened. His face? Another priceless memory.

I could go on.
Like the time a fella took me out on a ride on his motorcycle. I had capris on and while hopping off his bike at the gas station to fill up, my calve briefly touched the exhaust pipe on the bike. The steaming, incredibly, searing hot pipe that seared off a great deal of skin and left a round scar for months. I didn't even cry out. Didn't want him to feel bad for my idiot mistake. He found out later anyway. That wound was huge and hard to miss unfortunately.
Or the time this other gentlemen proposed to me over text message about six or seven times. Trying to convince me that it'd be great for everyone if we got married. He promised to pay my way through school and buy me a nicer car. Tooootally should have taken his offer. Dang it.....

Then there was an incident when my date and I were questioned by a cop and had our car searched by the nice officers on duty. I had pulled over at the gas station because I was convinced I had heard an animal in my back seat. I asked the guy I was on the date with if he would check it out. So he did. Yelling in surprise, his whole body suddenly lurched forward just as he reached under the seat. I screamed. Really loud and basically jumped out of my skin. Had a nice little out-of-body experience before coming back to reality to hit the fella over the head who was laughing so hard thinking he was so incredibly clever. Two cop cars just so happened to be in the parking lot of the gas station. Heard the scream. Saw me beating up a fella. Anyways, you get the picture. It ended up with a lot of laughter and thankfully, no wild animal was to be found. Or drugs. Or a body. Or any illegal weapons. Or anything like that....*whew* close one, right?

I could go on. I have a lot of stories. But this post is too long as it is. If I haven't lost you yet, I'm impressed at your will to endure.
I shall dub thee ultimate endurer. Kneel.

Dating, right?

Cheers to the memories.

Work work work work

I worked my butt off today.

No really.

I got home and I felt a few pounds lighter. I looked behind me and WHOA--what happened? That can't be right....
Oh yah.

I worked my butt off. Clean off. No mas. Which is spanish for 'no more'. In case you were wondering.

It's gone.

Gone like a freight train.

Gone like yesterday.

Gone like a soldier in the Civil War.

Bang Bang!

Gone.

And I have to say. I'm not so sure that it's a good thing....
That junk in the trunk had a lot of junk....but it was my junk....in my trunk.....

What a weird, weird analogy. Doesn't even make sense....junk in the trunk....it's not like I can anatomically open my "trunk" up and take all the "junk" out. Who ever started that phrase anyway? By golly... it's silly. Let's veto it.
No mas using the phrase, "junk in the trunk" to refer to someone's or your own behind.
Done.

Anyway.

Yah. I exercised today.

Yah...Insanity, right?
No really, I did Insanity. I screamed at the fella yelling at me to "push it!" There was a lot of jumping and push ups and punching the air involved among other things...mainly just a lot of movement. Yah...movement....a ton of movement.The people in the video were collapsing beside the trainer dude--what's his name? *googles "Insanity guy"* --Shaun T. while he just kept going. Like a really buff, black, freakishly intense Energizer Bunny........no really. Would I make this stuff up? And I did it! The whole entire dvd. Sure, I had to rest a few times more than big bad Shaun T but hey...I finished the dvd. I've never finished a whole work out before on that damn workout program. Sure, I felt like throwing up afterwards. I might have cried a little. Worth it.

AND then!
I went to work. And decided, being large and in charge, to let one of the servers go home early. Hey, it's a Thursday right? What's the worst that can happen?
Chaos and craziness ensued. It was like all of Provo had gotten the memo that I had made an idiot, rookie mistake and they all wanted in on it. And maybe while they were there, they might as well order some food--it being a restaurant and all. Soooo many people wanting food....so many tables all at one time.....I walked away with $100 in tips though. Which is cool. Way cool. Ice cool. With a cherry on top....(too much?...naaah).

And yah, my muscles are sore, my brain is fried, my patience was tested, and my endurance proven......and I'm hella grateful for that.
Glad to be working so hard and to be capable of working out.

I take pride in my health. A lot of pride. When I had a blood test done a few weeks ago and the doctor came back and told me I had a perfect white blood cell count, I sat up a little straighter. And yes, my urine is clear and I'm happy to report, I haven't had a cavity in years. And maybe I've overdone it by including all these wonderful details on my resume, but hey--good health is a beautiful thing.
I also take a lot of pride in my work. I'm just going to confess: I love being the "go-to-girl". The employee that you can always count on and who goes the extra mile.

I should probably work on this whole vanity thing.....I'm a superhero though...it happens. Don't tell my enemies that I'm a superhero though. Goodness forbid, they test my awesome POW-A (Arnold Shwarzenagger-sisdf;alksdjf;laskdjf voice).

Word.

Cheers to Almost

Here’s to the almost

To the almost kisses and late night visits

To the almost broken bones and broken wallets

To the almost boyfriend with the guitar and ego complex

Here’s to the almost, because you almost made a bad mistake

Almost decided to swim too far with the bigger kids in dangerous water

Almost ran away with too many almost successful men

Here’s to you, alternative routes never taken

Words never spoken.

Things never done and adventures never had.

Here’s to the almost suitable nickname you almost lived up to

And the outfit you almost wore because you almost thought you’d like to be something else

Almost never counts.

Unless it does.

And it does.

Because almost making a mistake counts for a hell of a lot more than making one.  

So cheers to the almost, to the “I’m-glad-I-didn’t” moments and the “that-was-close” times.

To the almost stories you had to almost tell your almost future children about a time when you were

Almost really dumb and stupid with your life.

Because let’s face it. The almost moments never get recognized. And those are some good moments of wisdom and good decision. Those are some of the best moments and the reason that you’re not in a place worse off than you are now.

So hats off to you….well…almost.

And nothing happened.

Amazing.

That was my day.

Simply amazing.

I rolled out of bed. Into a very unflattering outfit, messed up my hair, made some french toast for myself and my roommate and then we proceeded to sit on the couch watching Pirates of the Caribbean (oh yes, all four movies) for the rest of the day. Capn' Jack Sparrow made us laugh. So hard. And I just know I'd look great in a pirate outfit. And that was great revelation to receive. Tacos were made and devoured, I might have used the restroom once or twice. I called my family and made some weird noises at both of my youngest brothers. I wore no makeup, might have eaten too many oreos, and for sure, ate way too much cereal. My deepest thought was about how I would fire a lady on a commercial for being way WAY too excited over low prices at Wal Mart. Come on, lady! Wal Mart has low prices. Everyone knows that. It's kind of old news....stop smiling so much.....and the high pitched voice? Yah, never going to Wal Mart again....thanks.....

Someone knocked on the door earlier and I slid the dead bolt into place. Bam. Totally not anti-social or weird at all.

It was fantastic and relaxing and good to just do nothing.

Nothing. At. All.

Granted, I feel extremely guilty for sitting on the couch for, er....twelvecoughhourscough.......but then again....extremely not guilty.

My day of nothing was great.

I didn't go to church. I didn't go anywhere. Didn't see anybody. Didn't feel the need to tell some really bad jokes (habit from being a zip-line guide...I collect bad jokes...zip-lining was more of a stand-up comedian job--except with a lot of hiking through desert-like terrain in 101 degree weather with a portion of that time hanging on a line by a few straps, hooked to a trolley, and going "wee" (how do you spell "weeee"? Wheee? wiiii?  whey?) all the way to the bottom of that line...another portion of that portion was hooking myself up to really big fat men and women who would get stuck out in the middle of the line and pulling them in with my aching arms, in the hot sun all the while making small talk about their cat or their kid or their pet weasel and hating every dripping detail as I worried about the sweat dripping down my forehead and into my eyes blinding me for life...... Bad jokes helped to lighten the mood a lot.....Habits, right?).

And it was great.

And I'm grateful for my roommate for having a nothing day with me. And for the comfy clothes I am still wearing. And all that Oreo still in my teeth. Mmmmm....

Fetch.
Yes.
Did I just say fetch?

Yes. Yes I did.

God bless the man I marry one day.

With patience. And a sense of humor. Definitely a sense of humor but mainly patience....and a beard...I hope God blesses him with a beard. I like beards....on men. Attractive men...in particular....

Glad to be an American

America, America, God shed His grace on thee. . . .

I spent my Fourth of July working. Working because my boss saw this historic day of liberty as an opportunity to make money. I was the last one in the restaurant, hours after everyone else left. Which is fine. . .

I then proceeded to go home, get dressed up to go to a friend of a friend's house to eat salty meat, chocolate pie, and cheap watermelon. Spent my night among strangers feeling disconnected from everything they were saying. All the shared stories they were laughing about together. We watched the Patriot. I missed the fireworks. I came home. Feeling ridiculously homesick....

And here I am. Wondering. What does it really mean to be American? We celebrate the fourth of July but do we ever consider it? Ever stop and ask, am I really so proud to be an American?

I'd like to think so.

I'd like to believe that this country is a land worth living in. A land of justice and freedom. And all the cheesy words often associated with the US of A.

But why do I believe that?......

I watch the news.....I read the newspapers and am subscribed to Times magazine.....

I have friends who believe that the United States government is completely corrupt, that we are on the edge of becoming a socialistic nation or falling under the lead of a dictator posing as a patriotic man.....

I read about the scandals in the White House and have read some of the current conspiracy theories........

It's hard to really know....truth......

I've watched Americans hurt other Americans......cried when a good friend was shot in the face at a movie theater......

I see homeless people begging in the streets every day and have been spit on by a man upset with my service as a waitress while working on the Royal Gorge train....all because he didn't quite like the food.....

Greed and selfishness seem to abound.....gluttony and vanity thrive....are encouraged....and laziness? It's everywhere....
We pride ourselves with being the greatest nation yet we are falling apart from the inside out.....our economy is a wreck, our people divided, and our government seemingly abusing power........

The family and home and values and God are all under attack......and everyone is all about being so politically correct that anything and everything is offensive.......


But.....

.....I've also walked upon this beautiful land.....Appreciated the sights of National Parks....grand mountains, amazing canyons. I've stood in the presence of great people, some famous--most not....admired their tenacity and their great strength of will despite all odds..... I've had amazing role models.... I've seen strangers helping strangers, and teachers helping youth.....I've talked to extremely poor, humble people, sat in their homes while they told me about life with a smile on their faces....

I'm impressed daily by the technological and medical advances the American people still continue to achieve...

I can say I've known a fair share of geniuses.

I was raised in a home with five wonderful brothers, my parents being able to have as many kids as they wanted. I was taught strong values and how to work, and learned to honor my father and my mother and respect my elders. I was shown to love God and how to love people. I was taught to love my country, to serve others, to not take my American, God-given unalienable rights for granted.

I have the freedom of speech and the freedom to worship whomever and however I may please.

I can go wherever and however I may please.

I am going to a school of my choosing and am getting a wonderful education at the young age of 21.
I'm working to make my own way in this world as a young woman. A single, reckless, independent, young woman.

I've laughed as comedians have made fun of the follies of politicians, have cried alongside fellow Americans--strangers when tragedy has taken place.

My best friend is a Mexican, my favorite teacher is a democrat, the first guy I ever kissed was black, and I have Irish, Scottish, and German in my blood.

I drink clean water, sleep in a nice bed, pay taxes, enjoy reading and writing. I can send letters to anywhere in the world and really really...love fireworks....

I feel safe at night. I feel safe in the daytime.

So what does it mean to be an American?.......

To me, it means I am blessed. It means I must strive to bring light in this world, to continue to serve my fellow man. It's honoring my parents, loving my family, enjoying my liberty. It's fighting for what's right and protecting those who are in need of protection. It's defending everything our forefathers of this great nation intended this nation to be, everything God intended this nation to be....
It's living in a fast, changing, extremely intelligent world and being able to keep balance as well as simply, keep up....

So yah.....I am proud to be an American. Though imperfect, confusing, and hard these times may be....at least I know I'm free. And I won't forget the men who died who gave that right to me...and I'd gladly stand up next to you and defend her still today. Cause there aint no doubt, I love this land.

God bless the USA...

Not exactly sure. . .

I feel like I should write. Though, I’m not exactly sure what to write about. I suppose I should write you a long, romantic story about a young girl who discovered herself amidst turmoil and heart ache. A coming of age story filled with details and tears and an incredibly satisfying and happy ending. I find books and such stories to be an incredibly interesting phenomenon. People have been telling stories and writing books and weaving words since the beginning of time. Whether it was around a fire pit or a fire place; or a small lit up screen they are calling a kindle these days. All these stories seem to have a nice little conclusion—some wrapped up finishing finale. The end. El fin. They all lived happily ever after. But what is that? Life doesn’t have an ending. Even if these bodies we live in do. Why do we love the big finish on a story? Why is it so satisfying to the human psychi to know that everything ended up okay or that it all just ended when surely, it doesn't. It doesn't end. The story will never end. Should never end. And that’s the beauty of it all, right? I believe in a higher power. In eternal life. In a heaven and life beyond living upon this earth and in this body. So as I read my written, personal stories and other stories, I can’t help but feel a bit curious. Will there ever be a last page on humanity? On anything? On everything? Or won’t there always be something? Some kind of energy. I always thought of life made up of millions of little experiences. Even now, I will think of this time of me writing at my laptop separate from whatever happens in the next hour or so. But isn’t life just one continuing experience? As long as I live, I breathe, I laugh, and feel, dream and see—isn’t it all just part of one human experience? What other experiences await when this one is finished. What will they be like, I wonder. Life is so strange. So many things that matter to me now, I will have forgotten in a year or so and will be filled with new worries and new knowledge.  And time? What is that? We keep track of it by the rotation of the earth and the aging of the body.  Did we invent time? What is time to God, I muse.  What is a day in God’s life. With so many people to look after, I wonder if He is kept very busy or if He has time to sit down and think and wonder. Does God wonder? He knows everything. But does he wonder about all that He knows? I wonder about the knowledge I have. About the truth I’ve been given and the lies I’ve believed. Sometimes it is with wondering awe. Sometimes it is with the curiosity of a child I hope to never lose. And we as humans, we write down all this truth and we spew out what we believe to other humans. Always trying to make a point. I don’t understand sometimes. Why are we always trying to make a point to others? This makes me think of the men on the corner here in Provo on Sunday. They held giant crosses, yelling at all of us Mormon college students walking home from church. They yelled out things about Jesus the Christ being the savior and Redeemer of the world. They were being vulgar, screaming in our faces about concepts and truth our church is built upon. In ignorance, they spewed out truth we already knew. In ignorance, they screamed about how horrible we were for not believing in Christ—when in fact we are the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. I suppose I just don’t understand to what end they were hoping to accomplish. As to why they would waste a beautiful day standing on a street corner in the hot sun hassling college kids.  Were they hoping for a fight? Were they truly concerned for our seemingly damned, Mormon souls? Did they truly believe that what they were doing was right or were they just doing it, just because.  People are so complicated, so hard to understand. I find even myself, ridiculously hard to understand. It’s because I am constantly changing though. A slave to this thing called time, which wears and tears at my body, expands my ideas and knowledge and brings forth new obstacles to face and conquer.  And right now, I’m perplexed about the tears I find running down my face. Why am I crying? I know sorrow and I know physical pain. These tears are not caused by either of these feelings. What are they? A sense of hopelessness perhaps. A sense of how humans are so unreasonable. And that so much has changed. Maybe I’m crying because I miss the simplicity of ignorance. I almost miss being so clouded in vanity and self-righteous beliefs, for though a foolish child, I was a carefree child. I miss feeling like I was invincible and believing that everyone I loved was invincible. Perhaps I’m crying for humanity and the uncertainty of the future. Or maybe I’m just crying, just to cry. I’m so human.  So vulnerable. And yet I am strong. Why? Why am I so strong? And why do I feel so weak at the same time? So insecure and yet, so sure. I pride myself in being independent and happy yet so much of my happiness is dependent upon those I love. Would I be happy if I were truly alone on this Earth? I’m grateful I don’t have to know the answer to that question by way of experiencing it firsthand. And again, strangely I feel so frustrated towards people. So connected and dependent on technology my peers are. Always plugged into their iPods or texting on their cell phones. I watched some television today as I ate lunch and felt anger when a commercial came on about some little touch-screen, take anywhere television or maybe it was a phone—something. It showed people standing in amazing places outdoors, watching a tv show. Have we really come so far that the need to constantly be entertained is so great? Have we really adapted into these creatures who cannot be alone with their own thoughts for a while? Is this stifling creativity or encouraging it as these products seem to claim? And then, I think. Am I a hypocrite? Using Facebook and my blog as an outlet to feel connected with all those around me.  Aiiieee……I don’t know yet if I’ll post this on my blog or not. .. .

Cheers to being human, right?