"Types"

So most people have a "type". That particular look they always seem to like. That particular genre of person they prefer to date. All "types" are different and I like to think that most people don't HAVE to date within that type, but just find themself doing that more often than not.
This is fine, it's normal, it's common. Me? I don't have a physical type. If you were to line up the guys I have dated/been interested in, they range like CRAZY as far as physical appearance goes, but as far as personality goes they are all pretty similar. I am a personality snob, and if the guy has it I am typically attracted to it right away, a lot of times regardless of how "hot" they may be.
Ok that is not really the point. The point is, I know I don't fit into every guy's "type" that's fine. BUT don't hit on me, then tell me I'm not your type, then continue to hit on me.
Yes there is a story behind this...
A few years ago I was trying out a new ward with my friend Katie. We were at ward prayer and this kid came up to us and talked to us for a while flirting pretty heavily with both of us. Side note: Katie has brown hair, I am blonde and he had red hair. He goes on to tell us his rating system. This is how the conversation went from there.
Dude-I base girls on a 1-10 scale based on hair color. Red heads are either 1-3 range or 8-10 range. They are either really unfortunate looking or really hot. Blondes range from about 4-9 it's not often you meet one that is really unattractive, but they'll never be a 10 in my book (HA remember how I'm blonde and he just said that to me?) Brunettes can span the scale from 1-10.
Me- did you really just say blondes can never be a 10? You do realize you're saying this to a blonde right?
Dude- Well I mean you could be up to a 9...
Me- But I'll never be a 10 to you. Why would I ever go out with someone who I knew would never see me as a 10 when I knew that I could find someone else who would?
Dude-well a lot of girls are never actually 10's so being a 9 is still really good. Plus you could always dye your hair.
Me- Or I could just find the guy who would think I'm a 10 as I am.

Ok here's the thing. I am sure a lot of guys would agree with him. Some guys are brunette guys, some guys prefer blondes. That is fine, BUT DON'T TELL THE GIRL THAT if she's not the one you prefer! ESPECIALLY if you are wanting to ask her out. I knew he was more interested in my friend but it was pretty clear he was the kind of guy that would just take what he could get, so he was being just as flirty with both of us to see who, if either, which ended up being neither, would bite. Idiot.
As mentioned before this was a few years ago, and I don't see him often, but I have seen him a couple of times over the years and every time he tries to be all flirty again. Sorry dude you didn't have much of a chance to begin with and you nailed that door shut yourself.
Man... some guys have no tact.

Clumsy = Not Hot

As I laid at the bottom of my stairs after my most recent falling incident I thought to myself, "That's a shame no one saw that because I'm sure that was a sight to see."
Here's the thing. Tripping isn't attractive, clumsiness isn't attractive. It's funny as all get out, sure, but not attractive and I trip ALL THE TIME.
Here are some doosies, for your imaginative pleasure.
Going to the movies with my friend Liz, a common occurance about a year ago. The theatre was nearly empty. As we walked in between these two dudes who were conversing amongst themselves, and I mean right as we walked in between them, my heel caught the cuff of my pants. I do a little hop and squeal my shoe breaks free and I continue walking, Liz of course was stopped dead in her tracks, just laughing away, as were the two dudes.
Another time I am on a date, we walk out of his place and I am walking in front down concrete stairs. My heel gets caught in the cuff of my pants (again, same pants) and again hop and squeal (much more terrifying whilst walking down concrete stairs) and I'm good and continue on as I hear him say, "Holy **** that scared the crap outta me."
Another time, I am in my friend's kitchen sitting around the table with about 4 people. I get up to get a drink and heel in cuff (I think there is a lesson to be learned here, I'm still trying to figure it out)This time the hop and squeal wasn't successful. I hop, but my heel stays planted in my cuff, I begin to fall, my knee slams into the cupboards and I hit the floor. Tripping is bad enough, tripping and falling... humiliating.
Then what sent me into this thought. At my workout class this week the dude would not let up on our quads, they hurt so bad all week long. Last night I was walking down the stairs to my bedroom. On the right side there is a handle and a wall, on the left side there is nothing. I'm walking down and I have about 3-4 steps left and my right leg decides to give out. I, of course, reach to the left to save myself, but there is nothing there. So I tumble. Just tumble away down the remaining stairs. Carpeted, luckily. It was terrifying, my body was moving in ways I didn't know I could move, it's amazing what the body can do when trying to save itself. I may have pulled an ab in the process.
I know that fall was not attractive. I am a clumsy person. I trip all the time. I always squeal when I trip. Could this,in a small way attribute to my marital status?
Thoughts from a single 27 year old.

The New Kid

Ok so I have moved. I'm in my new place, and I was afraid it was going to be hard but it was better than I expected. This I have talked about.
Here is the thing. In the beginning everything was great, I had made this whole change, I was meeting tons of new people, everything was new. It/I was a novelty.
The novelty has worn off.
The thing about me is I am a sarcastic person. Not everyone likes/gets sarcasm. I have learned this throughout my life by being seen as mean or initimidating. So many people have told me that when they first met me they were intimidated by me, or even afraid of me. Also add the fact that my stance of choice is arms folded, AND the fact that I'm shy. I get it, I understand the first impression I make.
That being said, it takes me a long time for me to be comfortable enough to come out of my shell.
So back to being the new kid. I have been really open to meeting new people lately, I've had to, I've thrown myself into a completely new place where I know no one. Luckily I have been invited to a lot of BBQ's and parties and such, and I go, but I stand there quietly... arms folded talking only when spoken to. WHAT? That is not me! I am not that girl. I am a hoot! I am the girl telling stories and making people laugh with my tales of clumsiness and blondocity, often using some sort of accent.
Right now I feel trapped. I go to activities and want to talk to people, want to tell jokes, want to be comfortable enough to just talk to anyone, but I can't. How does one overcome this?
Prime example. At my place of employ for the first 10 months I worked here, no one knew me. People thought I was super quiet, with no personality. People were afraid of me. I did my job in silence. Then I switched departments and met a girl who is super outgoing and crazy and she pulled me out of my shell. That's also around the time I started this blog. People heard about it and started reading it (it used to be a really funny blog, if you haven't read from the beginning I recommend you do that) and I found out my now friend asked another girl, "Did you know that she's funny?" Now I'm known in the office for being silly, crazy, funny... I'm known to not be the quiet girl I was. That took me 10 MONTHS!
I do not want to be where I'm at for the next 10 months not knowing anyone. Not being myself. Plus I'm only under contract for 6 months, so it's possible that the entire time I live here I'll be stuck? No! I refuse.
I am getting more comfortable, and I am meeting new people, but I'm still not totally being myself, I'm still being shy. I need to knock that off. I need to learn how to not be shy anymore. There's gotta be some self-help books out there on that right? I'll do some research.
To summarize, I hate being the new kid.

Starting Over

So it's been a week and a half since I moved and it has been a GREAT week and a half.
I think once I made the decision to move I knew it needed to happen as soon as possible. Things where I was just started to get worse and worse, and not necessarily because anything was changing, but because I KNEW I needed to leave. I was ready to leave and I couldn't wait to start over. Starting over has always been something that terrified me, but in this case I was so excited at what lied ahead for me.
I started going to my new ward a few weeks before I moved, and the first Sunday there it just felt right. The month of July was a long one. I was ready.
I moved Saturday the 23rd and since then things have just been really good. I've been really happy, in a way that I haven't been in a long time. I didn't realize till I left how stagnate I was feeling, and now it's like I have so many opportunities that I didn't have before.
I thought before I moved that it would take a few months for me to be happy with the move, for me to feel like I understood why I did what I did, but that feeling came immediately. I was immediately happier. A huge weight had been lifted off my shoulders and I knew for 100% certainty that I made the right decision and that feels good.
The people I have met and the things I have done since I moved haven't even really been in relation to where I live, but I have been more open to meeting new people, I have had more confidence to meet new people. I am taking opportunities to be in situations where I don't know anyone SO I can meet new people and already it has been so fun. I love my new ward, I think my roommates are going to be great. I love my house. Like I said other things have been happening that aren't even in relation to the move. Music is picking up like crazy.
When you do something you know you are supposed to do, even if it's scary and hard, you will be blessed. I am so grateful to know that I did what I did because I was guided to do so, of that I have no doubt. NO DOUBT! And because I did what I was supposed to do, I am being blessed.
The reasons I had a hard time leaving are because of the people I left, but the people that mean the most to me are still very much a part of my life, and the people I left that are gone, well clearly it was good to clean house.
Starting over this time around has been grand!

Ode to the roomies...

So I am moving this Saturday. I moved into the house I live now in February of 2009. I moved into a house of 5 girls, none of which I knew, one of which I'd be sharing a room with. That is an intimidating thing. Girls can be drama. Girls can be difficult to get along with. But these girls are different.
After living there only a week I was going to be having surgery and I was having a really bad day. My new roommates, seeing this, decided to gather me up and we all went to Belgian Waffle. I wasn't allowed to eat past midnight so we went at about 10 PM. That was the first night I bonded with those girls and it was that night that I knew I made the right decision moving into that house. Since then we have become so close and each year in March we'll go back to Belgian Waffle late at night. We call it Roommate Belgian Waffle night and we make goals for the next year. Something I look forward to each year.
Then that May our landlord threatened to not open our pool (not very seriously methinks) so we decided to throw a "Save the Pool" party. We invited a bunch of people over saying, "If you want to use our pool this summer you better donate to the fund to open it." That night we all wore these hot pink mardigras beeds so everyone would know who "the roommates" were. We all wore them differently, bracelet style, necklace style what have you and we all were stained where we wore the necklaces. I still have mine hanging in my rearview mirror in my car. One particular roommate, who I refer to as Roommate and have since that day, and I use the term "roommate beads" as a term of comradery. Those roommate beads are significant and not everyone has them... Pretty sure we raised about $60 that night and pretty sure none of us really have any idea what happened to that money, it just vanished little by little until it was gone.
That fall we were all hanging out in the house on 09-09-09 and decided at about 9:00 that we needed to have a one minute long party. So at 9:09 we all celebrated New Year's Eve style, we had margaritas and hit pots and pans and cheered for one minute and then it was back to normal life. We decided to continue that tradition on 10-10-10 at 10:10 only last year we invited friends, had fireworks and all that jazz. Another tradition I look forward to continuing... at least for the next two years.
After living in a house with 5 other girls for a while, people starting referring to us simply as "The Roommates", for example, "What are you doing tonight?" "Oh I heard there was a 10-10-10 party at the roommates house"
I have loved living in this house. Roommates have come and gone, but one thing I have noticed is that the people who have moved in after me have had the same feeling of, "I needed to move here" Moving into the house was one of the best decisions I've made, and moving out will be one of the hardest.
Things I'm going to miss.
Melissa talking in her sleep- some of my funniest and most terrifying moments in the house are a result of that.
Dani- Just Dani, her stories, her falling, her laugh resonating through the house, the sound of crashing that follows her wherever she goes. The precautions we need to take to protect her... i.e. putting an "X" of masking tape on the screen door so she won't walk into it... again.
The carpet in the living room that sounds like a diaper when you walk on it because someone didn't take the plastic off before they laid it.
Being able to have pinatas in the house.
The couches of all varieties.
The skouch
All gathering in the upstairs bathroom just talking as we all get ready to go out to our different activities.
Scaring ourselves so bad we all have to sleep together in the living room.
Doing handstands with Melissa and Kristen (Roommate) in the living room.
The balcony off my bedroom where the wood is so rotten it's terrifying to walk on, I will miss sleeping on it.
The pool.
How many friends we get because of the pool ;)
Scaring Amy every time I come down the stairs because for some reason she can't hear me coming.
Falling asleep to Melissa watching whatever CW show she is addicted to at the moment.
Sitting on the floor in Kristen's room as she crafts a new decoration for her bedroom while discussing our dating stories.
Our stinky fridge that no matter how many times it's cleaned always smells like death, I really will miss that.
All gathering in the kitchen and just gabbing and inevitably getting scared when someone walks up to the sliding glass door.
I am going to miss this house and my roomies. If I didn't know for certain I was doing the right thing, I don't think I could leave it.

Half Marathon...

So I have run a few races in my day. Maxing out at 3.1 miles. Those I have to train for. When I train for those I run a mile and a half or two miles and that is hard for me. I like to sign up for races to keep me motivated and keep me training and in shape, but one thing I have learned of myself is signing up for a race does not mean I will train for it, but I will run it anyway and want to die.
Truth be told, I hate running. I want to love it. I want to be one of those people that goes running every day. That can just run for miles and feel ok. I actually dream about it. I dream about running and not being tired. Strange?
When I'm awake though, I dread it.
I did the dirty dash 5k in June and it was really hard for me. Granted I was sick, but I'm pretty sure I used that as more of an excuse to how poorly I did than it actually was. After that race the friends I ran with asked if I wanted to sign up for the 10k in Sept. AIN'T NO WAY! I had no desire. I hear friends doing ragnar, no desire. I hear people training for marathons and half marathons, FER SHER no desire. Running just wasn't my cup 'o tea.
Last week my sister emailed me, as she does on a pretty regular basis, and told me she was thinking about doing a half marathon in October and wanted to know if I would like to do it with her. She had been training for a couple of weeks and said I could catch up relatively quickly. Something perked in me. Some sort of desire. There was more fear and deep down I felt like I could talk to her about it, but I wouldn't actually do it. I could talk all positively, but when it came down to register for it I wouldn't do it. So I started talking about it. Looking into it. She emailed me her training schedule, and in order to be on track with her I was going to have to run 4 miles on Saturday. HA 4 miles, if someone were to ask me to run a 5k I wouldn't do it, knowing I wasn't capable. So I figured I'd shoot for two and work my way up.
I went to the gym on Saturday for my first day of training. After about a mile I was feeling really good. I knew I could do two but would shoot for 3. After 2 miles I still felt really good... shockingly. To the point that I had a giddy little grin on my face. I was going to do three, maybe shoot for 4. How great would it be if I was already on pace with Jennie. If I ran 4 it would be further than I had ever run before. I hit 3 miles, nothing is stopping me now. At about 3.5 miles my right ankle started to hurt a bit, but I'm stubborn, I knew I wouldn't let that stop me. I had to get to 4 at this point. I was a little worried that I would injure myself on day one of training, but I had to finish. I was preparing in my mind getting a bag of ice for my ankle when I went home and having it be all swollen. 3.75 Now it was getting hard. 3.76 "Really just one hundredth of a mile" 3.77 "This is taking forever." I watched every hundredth of a mile for the last quarter mile, but I finished. 4 miles, 46 minutes even and I was just floating. My ankle was fine. I was all kinds of embarrassingly sweaty (note to self don't wear a tank top that will show the boob sweat) but I was feeling so good. I ran 4 miles on day one. I can TOTALLY run 13 after 3 months of training. Turns out, running is VERY psychological I was talking myself out of running before. NOW I'm excited for the half. I registered on Monday, did my second day of training 3 miles, felt like a breeze (ish not totally breezy but easier than it has ever been before).
Jennie and I talk on each day of training and discuss our pace and everything, having her run this with me is going to really help me, and I am so excited to do this together.
We are going to own this race.

A Change in the Wind

So about two weeks ago my friends had an apartment warming party. I walked in and my friend was giving me the tour of her new digs and I found myself itching...
It has been a while since I have moved anywhere. From the time I was 18 until I was 25 I had moved 14 times. I would just get bored and move from place to place all the time, I lived in Logan, Sandy, Hawaii, Sandy, Riverton, Midvale, Sandy, Provo, Bountiful, Daybreak, Sandy, Murray, Sandy, and then finally to the house I live in now, again in Sandy (but not my parent's house).
When I moved the last time I told myself I would not move out of this house until I got married, sure that that would be happening in the next year! It HAD to.
In the time that I lived in this house I would still get the itch to change things up, but I would just change wards. It was easily done I lived in the boundaries of both a student ward and a single's ward. I went to the student ward for a year, then it got split so I became part of a new ward, and then I got bored there and went to the single's ward.
Well they have changed things now so that you either go to the single's ward you live in the boundaries of, or the home ward you live in the boundaries of. So my need to change things up has been made quite a bit more difficult.
When I went to the apartment warming I knew I needed to mix things up. The thing is, it's not just an "itch" I get, it's a feeling of knowing that I have gotten what I can get out of my current situation and I won't get anymore. Once I realize that I feel really stuck and I know I need to change things up as soon as possible if I want to continue progressing. The only way I can do that now is if I move.
The thing is, I live in a house with girls I love. I live in a nice neighborhood, in a nice house, with really cheap rent and a pool. This is not a situation I would easily want to leave. The thought of not living with my roommates anymore breaks my heart a little bit, and I just have to lean on the hope that in the last 2 and a half years we have built genuine friendships that will not easily fade away.
(I'm realizing this is going to be a long post because I keep thinking of things that I don't want to forget in this story)
About a month ago, this girl added me as a friend on Facebook. At first I didn't know who she was, and then I remembered meeting her like a year and a half ago at a game night. I didn't know what prompted her to add me after meeting only once or twice a LONG time ago, but I accepted. About three weeks later I posted that I was looking for a place to live in Salt Lake, and she sent me an email with a listing. I went and looked on Friday and I knew I really liked that place. As soon as I knew that IF I was really going to move this was the place it would be to, I got really sad at the thought of leaving my current roommates, but only because it was becoming more real, not because I felt like it wasn't right. If anything it felt more right and the realization was kind of a hard one to face. I told the landlord yes, knowing it would be a week before I could sign anything. I still wasn't 100% but I didn't want them to give the room away.
Friday night my dad called me to talk about my decision. I told him what I felt, that it would be hard but I knew I needed a change and this felt right, that the only thing holding me back was the fear of the unknown. That I didn't know anyone there and that would be hard, but I need to meet new people and the only way to do that is to immerse myself in a new crowd. I was scared and it was a big decision, then my dad said, "Well I know enough to know you're praying about it, so trust whatever decision you make, I've learned that I can trust your decisions." That statement alone meant the world to me. To know my father trusts me completely. To know that I should be able to trust my decisions like he does. I know I am going about making this decision the right way, and I also know that I have been guided a lot in my life to where I, more often than not, know when the decision is mine alone or when it is inspired. In that moment I knew my decision was inspired and it was made.
I still decided to fast about it on Sunday, and though it was a really hard day and not the way I was expecting my answer, by the time I went to bed that night I knew my time in Sandy was done and I needed to move on.
There is a lot I will miss with this move, but there is a lot I am looking forward to, and a lot of doors this will open. I have been to the new ward and I am excited at the new opportunities I will have. It won't be an easy move, but I think it will be good for me and I welcome the change.
I am grateful for inspiration. Inspiration I am given and inspiration in my behalf. I don't doubt that girl was inspired to "add me" on facebook right at the time I would be looking for a new place. I have since talked to her about it and I can tell she knows that it was inspiration too. I am grateful for that, to know I am watched and looked out for. Makes me feel like I'm heading in the right direction, and that is a good feeling.