Livin' In Gangsta's Paradise

When my in-laws got back from France we were living in their brand new house. My husband and I lived rent-free on the condition that we would take care of the house and feed the dog. Nikki, the dog, is a mix between a yellow lab and a cocker-spaniel (I have no idea how to spell that as I detest that kind of dog). She's rather prissy and constantly walks at the heels of my feet when I'm home. I'm not sure why she likes me so much because I've pretty much been mean since the moment I became a part of the Bush family. But enough about the dog. Since my in-laws got back, we decided it was only fitting that we get a place of our own. It was time to be completely independent and free from any possible obligation to his parents for allowing us to mooch off of them. I love my in-laws very much but there comes a time in every daughter-in-law's life when it's time to have her husband all to herself. That time has come. Jon and I looked for a place to live for a couple of weeks. After visiting numerous excuses for two-bedroom apartments, we were about to sign a contract with the last one we looked at when we decided to just visit one more. We got lost on the way to the apartment and found ourselves winding through what we now call "Duplex-ville". When we arrived at our destination, we saw yet another duplex that appeared to be old and unkempt but much to our surprise, the apartment was clean, white, and spacious. It was like walking into a mansion after seeing the previous available apartments for newly married couples. We signed the contract right then and there. We moved in on Saturday and, in fact, that was the ONLY thing we did on Saturday. We have since slept there for two nights and have discovered a slight invasion of earwigs. We have come to the realization that the apartment will have it's downfalls (i.e. "Mexican Circus Music" as Jon calls it, in the early morning hours, white-trash neighbors with 5 cars parked in their driveway that don't run, and blinds that do little to provide privacy--which will be updated soon). All in all, I must say that I am very excited to be on our own and have an apartment all to ourselves that we can decorate and arrange exactly as we please.

Closing Time

So the time has finally come and I have to admit I wasn't expecting it to be so soon. For the last 3 months, my husband and I have been living in his parents’ old house which has not sold yet. There is one part of that situation that has just changed and will ultimately change everything else along with it. This old couple from California just decided to buy the house and while I am excited for my in-laws on finally selling the house, I am vexed at the thought of having to move once again--mid semester. I have to declare, and I have thought about this quite a bit, that among my very most loathed things in life is moving, hangers (yes the one's you put in your closet), and people who chew loudly. I absolutely hate moving. After processing the last few moving experiences over and over in my head and trying to figure out what exactly it is that is causing this abhorrence. With my psychological experience (which is none, but I like to think I have some) I have decided that because the last 5 years of my life have been so completely transient, I really haven't had what one would call a "home". Once I left the nest and moved away for school, my parents sold our old house where I spent my most important developmental years. That was hard. So I moved into the dorms at school for my freshman year. The next year I lived in a two story condo with my friends from the dorms. Then I moved to Hawaii for 3 months and lived in a Hawaiian family's house but at least had my own kitchen (which I never used). Upon my return to the mainland I took refuge in my brother and sister-in-law's house for a year. When I finally got tired of being stuck in a 10 ft by 10 ft room with my sister and sleeping on a trundle bed--which when pulled out took up the entire floor--I moved to another apartment where my sister and I ended up only staying for the summer. I then leached off of a friend of the family's and lived in her house until I got married in December. After we got married, since my in-laws had already moved to their new house, we moved into the old one and kept it alive while people toured through it. So after seeing how many different places I've lived and called home for the past 4 or 5 years, it isn't difficult to see why I hate moving. Another factor in the analysis may be that I have a dangerously large amount of shoes and clothing and it takes me nearly three Subaru Outback carloads to move just those things. What can I say, I love shoes. Anyway, I'm very grateful to have had 3 great rent free months in a large house where I was able to actually separate all my shoes and organize them without them being utterly chaotic after one morning of looking for my maroon Dansko clogs. So the reason I came to my room this evening, put on my pajamas, bundled up in my covers and spread my laptop out on the bed was because my husband had just gotten off the phone with his mother and it is pretty sure that we'll be moving within the next month or so. I was mad. I'm not sure at what or who but to save myself from any familial conflicts; I'm blaming it on my shoes.

Razzles

First it’s a candy, then its gum! Have you ever had Razzles? Friday night, my husband and I rented the movie "Thirteen Going on Thirty". The movie was cute--I have to admit--I love the cheesy love stories even though you know the perfectly mismatched, contentious people will hook up at the end. That's what makes movies so great, the impossible always happens (at least in good ones). So there is a point to this, I promise. Razzles make a star appearance in the film as being a favorite childhood candy. I guess after watching the movie, I had Razzles subconsciously hanging on my mind. So Saturday night rolls around and since my husband, Jonathan, and I are still busy moving things around and getting situated, we had a bit of shopping to do. While waiting to return this really great nickel-coated shower rack at Bed, Bath & Beyond, I spotted them--Razzles! The brightly colored purple package lay there on the shelf amidst the other temptations. I picked up the package, excited as a sixth grader on the last day of school, and showed them to Jonathan. He, obviously, had never had them. I recounted my childhood memories of chasing the ice cream truck down the street and buying bags of Razzles with my sister. I held the package in my hand as we walked around the store looking for very adult things like duvet covers and pillow shams and whisks. Needless to say, we purchased the gum-like candies... along with a new silk duvet cover. As we drove to our next destination, Jon and I, like children, popped the Razzles in our mouths one by one and chewed them until they turned to gum and immediately lost their flavor. We'd count to three and roll the windows down at the same time and spit out the old gum, ready to try the next flavor. Why do they always put more yellows than any other color? I wish they only made bags of red candy. So, my point is that I found our evening completely ironic and contradicting in moods. We were so excited to have grown old enough to decorate our own house and to pick out all the fun accessories and knick knacks but we still couldn't let go of the child within. I know, once again I've made a cheesy observation. But don't you think it's important to keep that alive and to laugh more and play more? I read something a while ago that said that kids laugh up to 600 times a day while adults only laugh 3 times a day. That's horribly sad.

My So-Called Life

Good morning and hello. This is officially my first entry on this radical web journal. I guess a brief introduction is in order. I work full time at a software support call center while finishing up my senior year at BYU. I have been married for nearly three weeks now. The culmination of these elements is basically "MY LIFE". Sad, you say. Well, really, there are aspects that I'm not too fond of but out of habit, I try to be the most optimistic I can. People say to be content with the now and a lot of times I find myself searching for something to look forward to because in my mind, that's the only thing that will keep me going. This is not to say that I am not happy with my life as it is right now. There great and exciting things about my life right now that I hope I will never have to give up. But, alas, I can't keep myself from anticipating the next big phase of my life. I started this phase about 4 years ago when I started my college career. Graduating high school was a key turning point in my life which I realize now more than I ever did. Forced to mature a little bit earlier than most, I spent the last 2 years of high school bonding with my teachers more than my peers and realizing that my family was really the most important thing I had possession of. I know I sound nerdy and maybe not so social but that's not the case (well, some might argue me to be a nerd...and sometimes I'd agree), I'm actually quite social once I'm familiar with the territory. Funny how that works, people are so reserved and sometimes mistaken, as I often am, for being a snot or unlikable, when finally you get to know the person and the first impression goes right out the window. I wish I could exclude myself from this group of pre-judging folk but I, ashamedly, must admit I do the same. Anyway, back from that tangent, I graduated high school triumphantly and soon embarked in a rather nauseating rollercoaster ride through college. I was told before I left that I would experience the greatest self-discovery during these years and although I believe I knew myself pretty well before, I have learned some of the most important lessons during these past few years. On the marriage note, this is the most exciting phase—to be a newlywed. I love my husband more than anything. It’s the kind of love the makes your stomach hurt because you’re sad to leave for work in the morning and you get an adrenaline rush every time you thing about seeing them at the end of the day. When talking about meeting your soul mate, I always wondered how people could say “You’ll just know”. It’s like that hindsight is always 20/20 thing. That was exactly the case. I didn’t know the feeling until I experienced it and it was most frightening but thrilling at the same time. To have met the person you are to spend eternity with…I guess there just really aren’t words in my vocabulary to describe it. Sounds cheesy, I know, but just wait until you get there. I realize this introduction is rather random and disorganized but that’s how my thoughts flow and that’s how I intend to put them on paper. So this is me…or at least an idea of me. So if you like it, keep reading. It’s rather liberating to know there is a small window to my inner most thoughts and people can see them.