When it Snows

It has been snowing hard all morning.
I have decided that in my own world, I will make it so it snows only on grass and other non-man-made...spots. There will be no snow on sidewalks, streets, or any other concrete/asphalt areas, and most definitely, there will not be any dirty piles of snow pushed up in parking lots.

I put on my new boots today to test them out. Ettie took one look at my faux-cowboy boots and said, "I hope you don't slip." I took her well wishes with me out the door. My boots probably aren't the best for snow...or any other kind of inclement weather. I did my best though to find some that were practical, yet not ugly, and these were the best I could find. Well, I found a lot of great boots, but my calves are much too "muscle-y" to squeeze into any boots meant for girls with chicken legs. Those poor girls with chicken legs. It's a good thing the boot industry took pity on them and made all boots their size, otherwise, their non-insulated legs would surely freeze. And no one likes girls with frost-bitten chicken legs.

So me and my not-too-practical but oh-so-cute boots walked to school through the wind and snow. By the time I reached campus, I was covered in crystalline white stuff, and I did my best to brush it all off before I went inside my building. As I entered the hall, I noticed that I was getting quite a few more looks than normal from other students, so I knew that everyone either thought I looked great in my new boots, or that there was something terribly wrong with the way I looked. I shuffled into the restroom and low and behold, I discovered that despite the fact that I had worn my coat hood up, a significant amount of snow had formed an ice patch on the top of my head. I quickly brushed off the snow, but it left my hair completely soaked and the ends limp and starting to frizz. I wished I could put the snow back where it was because at least it could then hide my damp hair which didn't look wet, but instead, rather greasy.

To top it off, my eyes were still red and watery because I had gotten something in them that morning while putting on my makeup. I had spent a great deal of the morning with streaming eyes, which made my mascara run and my eyelashes clump together, so it looked like I had only five eyelashes instead of...more than five. Walking through the snow only made it worse. So I arrived at my Enlightenment class looking as though I hadn't washed my hair in a week and as if someone had sprayed pepper spray in my eyes.

I wonder if anyone liked my new boots.

What's in a Name?

Yesterday was Sunday. It is the best day of my week. When I was younger, it was the worst day. I hated having to bathe and wear dresses and frilly socks, and sitting through three hours of church. Now, I live for the Sundays, although I still hate to bathe. However, I take everyone else into consideration and I do shower daily...most of the time.

In Sunday school yesterday, our teacher gave us a lesson about the importance of names (pertaining to the testimony that is born of God by names such as John the Baptist, Elizabeth, Mary, Joseph, and Gabriel). The teacher had prepared a bag with every one's names and the meanings of each of their names, and it was our job to match the proper name with the proper meeting. Apparently, I'm a sucker for matching games because I loved it! Call me childish, I could play matching games all day long.

Here is the meaning of my name:

Kelly-warrior, defender

Marie-bitter sea

Well, I don't know how I feel about the whole "bitter sea" aspect, probably because I have no idea what that means. Am I tempestuous? A tempestuous, bitter warrior? Yeah, that sounds about right.

I love my name.

There's a story behind my name. It's much to personal to fling haphazardly on to the Internet, but it's a great story. My name means a lot to me because of why I was given that name. There is no better sound to me than to be called "Kelly Marie."

I'm proud of my name.

It reminds me of where I have come from, and to what family I belong, and the potential I have to do great things which will be connected with my name.

My name is great.

All in a Weekend's Work

Sometimes I wonder if four-day weekends really are a good idea. It's all well and good to have a national holiday to celebrate civil rights and the American Dream, but it throws off my schedule and that makes my body confused. I rolled out of bed this morning at 6:40 and knelt to say my prayers. I think I was kneeling there for a total of 20 seconds when I realized that I wasn't going to say a very long prayer. I rolled over on to my side and debated whether to just breathe deeply or book it to the bathroom. I opted for the latter option and hopped out of my room while trying not to disturb Stephie, who was still sleeping, and reached the bathroom just in time to...never mind.

I took the day off school. Luckily, my presentation that was due today was re-schedulable (not a real word, but you have my permission to use it when you wish). I blame today's short illness on the weekend I just had.

On Friday: I went ice-skating with my roommates, stayed up cleaning the apartment until who knows when, and then watched countless episodes of "Say Yes to the Dress" with Stephie until who knows when.

On Saturday: Holly, Stephie, and I went to the ward party in the morning, where I catapulted a whole plate of barbecue sauce covered pork onto my sweater and lap. Cheers to being incurably clumsy! Holly and I spent an hour on the beds on the top floor of Bishop's barn talking about all the things we're worried about. We pushed Holly's car out of the snow, and then we attempted to fall asleep to a movie while piled together on the couch. I went with Ettie to my cousin's to do our laundry. I changed the worst (THE WORST) diaper of my life and came back home late smelling of essence of Indian food. That wasn't because of the diaper, that was due to the fact that my cousin's brother-in-law made Indian food...

On Sunday: I had one of the best days of my life. We had ward conference, and I cannot explain how much I love my ward. Hurray for BYU 56th! I think I want to make a cheer for the ward...I also love our stake presidency and our stake relief society presidency. I am "seriously so blessed!" Har-Har! Then we had a ward "munch n' mingle" hosted in our apartment and the apartment across from us. Hurrah for me being a social butterfly! (Now I'm annoying myself). I lost a game of Clue, and stayed up really late to watch Persuasion with the roomies.

On Monday: I attended an early-morning marathon of North and South and I have since vowed to never watch a movie like that with that many girls ever again. I have never heard so much swooning and screaming in all my days. It's a great movie, but do yourself a favor and either watch it by yourself or with a small group. A very small group.

And that brings us to today: I watched No Reservations and Singing in the Rain. I did a little bit of homework, and that's about it. And that is why I should never have four-day weekends.

Dear Condoleezza

Dear Dr. Rice,

May I call you Condoleezza? May I call you Condie? Perhaps that's a little too personal.

Thank you for coming and speaking to the students of Brigham Young University today. Your words were inspiring, and it was a privilege for us to hear from you. I hate to admit that I am not up to date concerning politics. I did know that you were the Secretary of State at one time, but I have no idea what you did for our country during that time. I wonder if I would have appreciated you as a politician. I would like to think so.

You were quite charming this morning, and I was enraptured by your words. I got upset when the audience would begin to applaud after you proposed specific thoughts and opinions. I didn't want them to interrupt you. However, I cheered enthusiastically when you thanked our service men and women. I teared up a little as I thought of my Uncle Steve, my cousins, Hans, Davis and Francesca, and my friends including Mike. I appreciated your sincerity and your worry about the state of our country, but mostly I appreciated your optimism in these dark times. Thank you for having such faith in us as the future, and our ability to do our part in this world. What you said is true, "It doesn't matter where we came from, it only matters where we are going." Most importantly, thank you for encouraging us to continue to integrate our faith and our reason, as they are integral parts of us internally.

I was honored to be there to hear you speak today. I don't care if people were protesting your presence on our campus today, or if people protest your existence at all. We needed your words today.

Sincerely,

Kelly Marie

A Vicious Cycle

If you don't want to hear me complain, then by all means steer clear of this post. The complaining herein may prove to be emotionally harmful...or you may just want to kick me in the pants and tell me to get over it. One or the other.

My mom always told me that if I couldn't change the situation, then I must change my attitude. Well what if I can change the situation, but I'm just not sure how? Am I allowed to have a sorry attitude then?

Everything about which I have an awful attitude are interconnected. It is an ongoing battle between the same circle of events and problems, and the solution to this circle of doom would be to step out of the circle completely. But, if this circle is life...then I don't really want to step out of it. I'm not so certain that the end of the circle of life would make things any easier, in fact, I might have more problems with being dead than being alive. So we can scratch out the option of leaving the circle. However, the circle of which I speak is probably not the over-encompassing circle of my life, but rather a small gear in the entire clock-work of my life...which is the clock...ever ticking...and tocking...like a clock does...

So my life's specific circular gear at this moment is this state of college student/unmarried (and not dating anyone)/antisocial/jobless/battling resolutions/lack of sleep/freezing to death/general desire to do absolutely nothing (laziness?)-dom.

Because I am in college, and constantly doing homework, this leads to:
A. Being antisocial.
B. Leaves very little time to hunt for jobs.
C. Leads to a severe lack of sleep.

Now this lack of sleep results in:
A. Being dateless because I look like a frizzy-haired troll.
B. Not wanting to date because I have nightmares about getting married to boys I don't want to marry.
C. Lack of concentration and ability to function at school.
D. Desire to do nothing but sleep.
E. Loss of ability to wake up in the mornings to run (which makes me feel good) and to study my scriptures (which also makes me feel good).

Because I live in a frozen tundra:
A. My skin is as tough and cracked as a fossilized dinosaur. Which adds to my already quite attractive "frizzy-haired troll" appearance.

So there you have it, the wonderful workings of the gear on which I live.

Outspoken and a Bit Tactless

I have a gift. A gift I wouldn't mind being rid of. I am a tactless human being. Naturally, when I am being tactless, I have to be speaking at the loudest volume as is appropriate for any public place. Maybe sometimes louder than that.

Because of this "gift" many have thought me to annoying, inconsiderate, and sometimes just plain mean. Let me attach some related incidents that beautifully illustrate my tactless ability:

Incident #1

During the first semester of my college career, I was watching Enchanted with a boy I liked, and a couple of "dorm-mates" and a couple of their friends. We shared our names all around: Kelly, Serena, Brad, Davi, Eddie, Alyssa, etc. The movie began, and the characters were introduced: Giselle, Edward, Pip, the scary queen, that fat guy who is always the servant of someone...
I stirred through the bowl of popcorn attempting to find the M&M's buried in its depths. Then of course, I commented loudly, "Hmmm....I like the name Edward. Not Ed or Eddie though. Those are poor excuses for names." No one acknowledged my comment, and I continued to sift through the popcorn. A few seconds passed, and Brad leaned over and whispered into my ear, "Kelly, I'm pretty sure that that guy sitting over there is named Eddie." I pretended like I didn't hear him and played nonchalantly with the popcorn the rest of the evening.

Incident #2

This past semester, Lou and I were meandering across campus admiring the changing leaves. Lou exclaimed, "Don't you just want to take a picture of this?" I glanced around, taking in the scene, and noticed one bike on the rack with the seat covered by a large white trash bag. "You even want a picture of that bike with the trash bag on it?" I laughed loudly. A deep voice from directly behind us asked, "You like my bike huh?" I assured him that I really did as he ceremoniously climbed onto his plastic-protected seat.

Maybe I should keep my opinions to myself from now on.

How I Know it's Going to Be a Great Semester

1. My English Enlightenment professor wears argyle sweater vests.

2. Said professor wants our class to have a name other than ENG 373. Something like: gold team. Nice.

3. The aforementioned professor also has a brother whom he calls Sidney Six Fingers. The reason: that brother was born with twelve fingers and twelve toes. Unfortunately, the extra appendages were amputated when he was born. He could have been a very talented pianist.

4. My ASL professor calls us her babies. She is great!

5. I learned the Fox Trot on Wednesday in my ballroom dancing class. Yes, I am taking a ballroom class. Isn't that classy?

6. My dance partner looked like Rusty Trawler from Breakfast at Tiffany's.

7. This semester ends in April. That's probably the best news of all.

Classy 2011

Until the morning of December 31, 2010, I had never thought about the year 2011. Yes, I knew it would come, but I never thought about it. Probably because of my dislike of the number 11. It's just not a very pretty number compared to numbers like 10, 12, and 13. So in my mind, 2011 didn't exist because I always skipped right over it and planned for 2012. I had determined in my mind that 2010 would be "The Year." Have you ever done that? Where you decided that the culminating climax or epoch of your life will happen in a certain year? Well, I did, and 2012 was it.

Then, 2011 loomed up behind me (or in front of me rather) and I had no idea what to do. I was discussing the idea with my roommate, Holly, and we decided that we would dedicate 2011 to being classy. In my mind, 2011 is the perfect year to become classy. (Especially if 2012 is going to be the best year of my life). Thus, 2011 is going to be classy. We are going to wear classy clothes and say classy things and be generally classy. I bought an Audrey Hepburn calendar from Walmart and covered the wall over our television with the pictures. It's a reminder to us to be consistently classy. How can you not act classy when Audrey (the definition of classy herself) is staring at you?

I don't know what sort of classy adventures will come my way this year, but I am determined to become a better person because of all of it. I looked up the definition of classy in the dictionary, and all it said was "elegant" and "stylish." That definition just doesn't suffice for me.
To me, being classy is:

1. Presenting yourself well. Dress up on the days when you feel the worst. I did that for the first time the other day, and it really did work. I had a wonderful day! I know it wasn't wholly because of the clothes, but I didn't feel grungy. I carried myself better, and as a result I felt better, and had a better attitude.

2. Raising one's standard of living by educating one's self and saying good things. Associate yourself with good books and other good forms of media. Broaden your vocabulary and attempt to stay away from negative thoughts and words. Be kind.

3. Taking care of your body. Simple as that. (I know it's really not simple, but...it really is).

4. Expressing gratitude. Tell others you are grateful for what they do for you. Most importantly, when you pray, explain to your Heavenly Father that you are grateful to him for the specific blessings he gives to you.

My goals for this year, are somewhat along these lines, but much more specific. This year for me, isn't really about being like Audrey Hepburn. Although that would be great. What I want to accomplish this year, is to become more like the woman I have always hoped to be. I want to have greater self-confidence. I want to show more compassion and patience and charity to those around me. I want to get my body back into shape. I want to grow intellectually and care for the talents I already posses. I want to establish a closer relationship with my Heavenly Father, Savior, family, and friends.

It's going to be classy.