What happens at night...gets posted on the blog

Once upon a time, Roommate downloaded this app that changes your voice. So you make a recording and then select a filter and listen to yourself sound all kinds of crazy. The first time she ever used it, she nearly scared the pee out of me. 

It was Saturday night, about 10:00. I'd just walked in the apartment from after my temple shift and noticed her door was closed. That's normal. She's often in bed before I get home. As I'm passing her door, I hear this super creepy, echoing, maniacal laughter, and the acoustics in our hallway made it almost impossible to pinpoint the sound, so it was alarming.

Before I could actually transition from confused alarm to genuine terror, however, Roommate couldn't help herself: she started giggling from behind her door. Ah yes. I should have known she'd be pranking me. Again. She'd recorded herself doing an evil laugh, and then applied a "Villain" filter to it to make it even better.

Anyway, we've played with the voice changer app several times, and usually, since we tend to only do it way too late at night, we laugh way too hard.

Last night, Roommate had had a pretty bad day, and I'd had a busy one, dealing with the stress of packing and prepping for my move. And, you know, Groundhog Day celebrations and all. So we didn't see each other much until around 11:00 at night. Frayed nerves, wacky hormonal levels, and lack of sleep set us off laughing our heads off. 

And then she sneakily pulled out the voice changer app and started recording us. This video is the clip she sent me, with the "drunk" filter applied to it. I promise, we were not actually drunk, nor did it sound quite this bad in real life. The filter is very good. She took a picture for good measure, I guess.

For reference (if you need it) I'm the one telling a story about a gob of spit.

Yes, that story is true. Roommate is mostly just laughing.

And I totally understand if this is only funny to the two of us. We were both desperately in need of a laugh, and my ribs ache a little bit today from laughing until tears were streaming from my eyes.

The reason I share it at all is because I'm deeply grateful for best friends, with whom it is perfectly acceptable to be a complete weirdo (also, apologies to Brian for calling him a weirdo in this video. We love him, really, we do).

And while I love change and I'm excited by the prospect of moving and getting a fresh start, I do end up carrying around a lot of stress and tension. If I didn't have an outlet, it would get pretty bad. So I'm really grateful for fits of laughter, stupid stories, and ridiculous apps that make us sound more punch-drunk wacky than we actually are.

Incidentally, I had one guy accuse me of being too serious and too intense. I think this puts that to rest once and for all. Although this might scare him off, too. Oh well. :)

Thanksvember: Old Friends

Day 1 of Lynnae's Thanksvember. :)

I'm actually cheating just a little bit and using an experience from a few days ago, but it totally still counts because I'm still in a good mood because of it. So stop that judging. ;)

So I have this friend. We were kids together. Cute, adorable, obnoxious little kids. We were a week apart, and since I was the older one, I never ever let him forget it (proof that the forgiveness of children is truly remarkable, because I was a little snot about it and he still talks to me anyway). I moved away when we were 12 years old, but we stayed in touch off and on all through high school and even saw each other a couple of times. (I may or may not have nursed a crush on him for a decent portion of that time... and if this friend reads this blog and didn't know that... surprise! You do now.)

The last time we saw each other was about 6 years ago, at his brother's wedding in Salt Lake. We fell out of touch after that and got busy with life, significant others, and everything. Hadn't spoken to each other in years.

But we fixed that this weekend, and that's why I'm happy.

We reconnected and reminisced a little over Facebook (make fun if you want, but I'd lost his phone number and email... see? Facebook is good for something!) and I told him if he was ever in Utah, he should stop by and say hi.

Turns out, he was down this last weekend, so I totally ditched my mom (who is in town for only this week) and went to see him.

Guess what? It was awesome. For all you could tell, it might have been 6 days instead of 6 years since we'd last talked. Some friendships aren't ever harmed by the passing of time, and he is one of those friends.

The best part is that time slowed down. After so many weeks where my days ran together and nothing stood out, it surprised me a little bit. There was one point where we were talking and I thought we must have been talking for at least an hour, so I surreptitiously glanced at my phone. 15 minutes. Not even kidding. We managed to fit so much conversation into each second that time was actually crawling by (in the best way possible). I loved it. I had something to savor. Something to hold on to. A reason to wish that time moved slower instead of simply allowing myself to be sucked along with the current. I was with someone whose conversation and companionship I valued very much, and I stopped going through the motions. It was something new (and something old, which made it that much more valuable).

Now I'm not saying that I don't have those kinds of moments with the friends I see all the time, but I needed to reconnect with a friend I never thought I'd see again to realize how special all of my friendships are. Friends are a gift. A gift that deserves to be cherished regardless of whether you see each other every day or every decade. I might have to be stuck in a routine of obligations and responsibilities, but that doesn't mean that I should treat my friends like they're part of that routine.

So yeah. I'm going to do better on that. Love you all, even if I don't see you very often.

Tweet Tweet

So it finally happened.

I broke down.

Should have seen it coming.

I could only last so long.

Especially given my career in electronic publishing.

Yes.

It's true.

I got a Twitter account.

(Sorry for the melodrama)

I have two, actually. I signed up for my own account months ago, just because I figured I probably should know what this Twitter thing is if I want to stay up to speed with web publishing. Twitter is basically the king of quick, concise advertising and copywriting (or it should be... stupid people ruin that aim, as is the case with pretty much every version of social media). I never posted anything though.

But I figured I'll try it out and see. My personal account is protected, so you'll have to request to follow me, but you can if you want to.

The real reason I'm even sort of active on Twitter at all (as of last night) is that Roommate and I ran out of room on our fridge for the wacky things our friends say. So what do you do when you don't have fridge space?

If you were going to say put it on a wall or a door, that is so 2007, dahling.

You put it online. Duh.

It's actually kind of fun. Since Twitter is only meant for the written equivalent of "sound bytes" anyway, using it as a stream of quotes and blurbs from friends seems like an obviously well-suited thing to do. And it's public. Stalk, share, follow, and smirk to your heart's content. We did it for you.

As for my personal Twitter feed... I have no idea what I'm doing with that yet. It's an experiment.

Mountain Trails

She had been climbing this mountain for as long as she could remember. It was the ultimate goal, the ultimate test. Everyone who was anyone pitted themselves against this mountain in order to win the breathtaking achievement of seeing the whole world from the top.

It was the undertaking of a lifetime. Everything she could remember had happened on this mountain. She saw no other future than continued climbing.

But the mountain was tricky. It was so vast that millions of trails wound up its face, and thousands of little canyons cut across its slope.

One day, she found herself in one of those canyons. Her feet were aching, her body hurt, and suddenly, her path turned into a gentle downhill slope, and she slowed in confusion. She was supposed to be going up. Not down. This wasn't right. She had just finished a full-fledged sprint up a steep slope to one of the mountain's promontories, powered by the chance to get a glimpse of the view that surely spread out from her elevation. It had been worth it. The vista was incredible. She had indeed climbed far. The world spread around her like the view from a skyscraper.

Then the trail dipped back into the trees, obscuring her clear view of how far she'd come. And now this downward thing. She must have taken a wrong turn.

The sound of footsteps. A friend whose trail often intersected with hers came running toward her, grinned in greeting, and dashed off, weaving on an upward trail that had her gaining elevation fast.

The hiker felt her spirits plummet. That's the kind of trail she should be on. She looked ahead at her mostly-level, slightly downhill path and down at her legs that shook and ached with strain as she continued moving forward on them. Then she gritted her teeth and picked up her pace. She couldn't give up. She wouldn't. She turned onto her friend's trail and began to climb, though she was a long way from being able to run up the slope as her friend had.

Suddenly, someone stepped in front of her, blocking her way. Her eyes traveled from his feet to his face, and she recognized him. The Mountain Guide. He was the stuff of legend and myth among every hiker that tackled this mountain. The only man who had scaled it more than once. In fact, it was often said that he had scaled it so often that he knew every trail to the top. Every. Single. One. He put his hands out and gripped her upper arms. "Stop. Stop. What are you doing?"

She had been moving under sheer willpower, her muscles responding mechanically. Now that she wasn't moving, her muscles tightened painfully, crippling her. She sagged, but the Guide caught her and swept her into his arms, carrying her back to her trail. He set her down on a boulder and crouched in front of her.

Tears of discouragement filled her eyes. "Can't stop," she whispered, "I have to keep going up."

His hands massaged along her seized-up calf muscles with medical familiarity until he found the spot he was looking for. Without warning, he applied tremendous pressure to the knot in her muscles, and she cried out. "You have to," he replied. "It's not stopping if you take a rest, assess your abilities, and replenish your energy." He found another knot, making her gasp in pain again. "It also helps to work out kinks like these that are slowing you down. You can't do that on the run."

"But the trail," she mumbled through the pain, unable to say more.

The Guide understood her unspoken question. "Yes, it does level out. You may not gain elevation for a while, but it will go up again." He reached up and brushed the tears from her cheeks, looking at her with piercing eyes that seemed to see into the deepest part of her soul. "I choose the trails for every hiker, did you know that?"

She shook her head.

"I have climbed this mountain so many times that I know which hikers need which trails. I know what you can do. So I put you on this one. You'll get to the top if you stay on it." He pulled her to her feet, and she found that she could stand. Hesitantly, she took a few steps, and though her legs still shook, she found she could walk. The Guide took her hand and looped it through his arm, letting her lean on him a little. He set a pace that was comfortable for her. Much slower than her normal pace, but one that wouldn't wear her out again.

They made steady progress along the flat ground, and she felt her confidence start to return. She could do this. It may be slow going for a while, but she could do this.

Almost as if he could sense her thoughts, the Guide slipped her arm from his. "Someone else needs me, but I won't be far. Call if you need me, again." He stepped right into the trees, following a trail that only he could see. Just before he went out of sight, he stopped and looked back at her. "Keep going, child. Even slow progress is progress on a mountain like this. And I will always send help."

He slipped away, but it didn't seem like he was very far. She knew, deep down, that he was close enough to respond to her call if she needed him. Turning back to her path, she took a deep breath and kept walking.

Footsteps. On both sides. To her surprise, her path suddenly merged with multiple others, and several other hikers, all of whom she knew and loved, emerged from the trees and joined her. They took her hands and walked with her, their love pulling her onward.

A change beneath her feet made her look down in surprise.

Then she smiled.

The path had turned upward again.

Symptoms

Sunburn.
Torn up feet.
Aching muscles (All. Over.)
Dirt under the fingernails.
Ruined pedicure.
Bruised knees.
Scratched arms.
Bug bites.
Hair smelling of campfire and lakewater.
A s'mores-and-burgers food baby.
Compulsive napping.

Doctor's diagnosis: Obviously the aftereffects of a run in with the AwesomeWardCampout virus. Activities that may induce this virus include, but are not limited to: Rock climbing, hiking, falling in the stream, running across gravelly beaches, diving into chilly reservoirs, getting thrown off a floating trampoline, pigging out on bonfire food, and generally doing all kinds of awesome things with others in a ward campout setting.

Bonus: I racked up a few Epicness Points on this trip for being the first girl up the boulders at the waterfall, and the first one to sprint over the beach and dive into the reservoir.

Needless to say, I'm exhausted, my body is plotting a riot in protest, and I need food more substantial than marshmallows in a desperate way, but I haven't been this happy-tired in a long time. Well worth all the box-elder bugs crawling on me all night.

To bed now. Happy sleeping!

Sharing Happiness

Love. I may not blog about it all that often at the moment, but it's never far from my mind. For those who don't already know, I'm a hopeless romantic. I'm dying to be swept off my feet by some amazing man. Sometimes I want it so badly it hurts.

But at the same time, I've been learning that, much to my surprise, I don't have be in love to find joy in romance. Does that sound weird? Okay, let me 'splain.

Once upon a time, before I'd ever been really loved, I used to find myself suffering from bitterness, loneliness, and self-pity whenever one of my friends was blissfully happy and in love. It was painful to watch them enjoy something I wanted so badly. Then I fell in love. Suddenly, I was the blissful, happy, smiley one. But I still hurt, because I saw other people who were in pain because my happiness reminded them of what they didn't have. I felt utterly powerless, because, short of giving up what made me most happy and making myself miserable too, I could do nothing to ease their pain. I hated it.

Elder Jeffery R. Holland said: "Envy is a mistake that just keeps on giving. Obviously we suffer a little when some misfortune befalls us, but envy requires us to suffer all good fortune that befalls everyone we know! What a bright prospect that is---downing another quart of pickle juice every time anyone around you has a happy moment!" 

Admittedly, I was often guilty of this. As are we all.

So I made a choice. I would flip Elder Holland's statement on its head and allow others' good fortune to bring me joy as well.

I vowed that I would never again allow someone's happiness to bring me pain. Even if I did hurt, I would never let someone who was happily in love (or successful in something I wished I could succeed in) know that I was hurting. Instead, I would go out of my way to be happy for them. Regardless of what I myself lacked.

The funny thing about going out of your way to do something is that, inevitably, you find yourself on your way again. What took conscious effort soon became natural. I stopped having to tell myself to be happy for someone else's success, and soon found that I really was happy for them.

I love seeing my friends fall in love. I love seeing them get a much-needed or much-hoped-for job, even though I'm getting back on the job market, too.

I'm not always perfect at it, obviously, and my loneliness/fear/discouragement/whatever often gets the better of me, but frankly, I've found that it's much more pleasant to allow others to share their happiness with you than it is for you to share your misery with them. If I don't have something to be joyful about, then I'm going to find someone who does and let them tell me all about it.

So, over the last few weeks (yes, some of this is fairly new to me---I bet you all are much smarter about this than I am) I've been learning that we are often miserable or sad only because we choose to be. That probably seems like a "duh" thing to you. Frankly, it is to me, too. But I know that when I am happy, I want to share it with everyone else in the hopes that they can be happy with me. I don't do it to rub it in their faces or to hurt them. I simply want to share the joy that I feel with others. This is why we share the gospel. It's why we announce marriages and babies. It's why we celebrate birthdays, promotions, graduations, or anniversaries. Because we want to share happiness. (This philosophy does exclude arrogant snobs who do want to rub their success in other people's faces, but they have more issues than just snobbery anyway.)

The Lord gave everything for us to have a chance to experience true happiness with Him. What's made you happy today?

Worth the Trip, Every Time

This is why I love spending weekends with Qait:

And a Very Merry Christmas to You

Christmas has been wonderful. There's nothing like a houseful of giddy kids who all still believe in Santa Claus to cure the lackofspirit blues I've been feeling. Having Ender crawl into my lap and ask me if he would be able to hear Santa coming is just cute.

I did miss being with my family, naturally. But I definitely made the right choice about where to spend my first Christmas away from home: Being Papa Boatright's "sixth daughter" was almost as good as being my own father's "Dots" (a name reserved just for me, incidentally ^_^). And thanks to all of the enthusiastic Boatright grandkids running around, I didn't have time to get lonely.

To be honest, I was most homesick for Brian anyway. My Thanksgiving dose of my family (and the possibility of seeing my family sometime in January or February) was enough to hold me over. But I've never spent a Christmas without Brian, and the thought of not being partners in crime in the Christmas mischief and mayhem (which we've done for as long as I can remember) would have been more difficult if I'd been with my family.

Which leads me to the best part of my Christmas. Sure, I got some cool presents, but the BEST present was hearing Brian's voice on the phone. He got his missionary Christmas phone call home, and Dad conferenced me in with them. I almost burst into tears when I heard him. Does that sound sappy? I'm sorry. I'm just so stinking proud of him. Hearing him talk with that familiar missionary-rhythm (if you don't know it, it's characterized by short sentences or phrases, with a rising tone at the end of each phrase---almost like the rising tone that marks a question in speech, but not quite so obvious), and slip into Spanish reminded me how much he's grown up since he left. Did you know he's been gone for nine months? That means he has 15 months left. 

Yes, I'm trunky for him. He's not, but I am. :) 

Anyway, that was my favorite part of Christmas. I hope you all had a wonderful day, too. 

If Ye Are Prepared

I'm a planner. I like thinking ahead. I was the BYU Freshman who had all of my classes planned out until graduation. Each semester, I revisited that schedule and changed it, but I had a plan. For most of my life, I've been able to see where I would be for more than a year ahead.

Now, I have no idea what life will be like for me three weeks from now.

My internship is ending on December 30th. I have one job interview this week and a couple of leads on places to look for employment, but after that, nothing. If I don't land this job, I'm not sure where to start on anything else.

For all intents and purposes, you should expect to find my picture under the dictionary definition for "panic attack." (Incidentally, I just checked: Webster's does not have an entry for "panic attack," but dictionary.com does---because knowing that matters to me.) I should be having a nervous breakdown right now. And, to be frank, when people start digging vigorously into my plans for my future, I get the flutterings of panic in the pit of my stomach.

But I am consistently surprised how at peace I am in general. When I'm not actively answering questions about my future, the stress is rarely eating at the back of my mind the way I'd expect it to.

And it's not that I'm a master at stress-management (family and ex-roommates, feel free to smirk knowingly here) or that I'm lazy and unconcerned about my future or anything. I owe my peace of mind to the Lord.

I'm not perfect at trusting in His plan for me, but I've noticed recently that I've gotten better at it. I feel confident that I'm in the right place, doing the right thing.

I had a really beautiful conversation with my friends at work during a meeting, where we talked about the meaning of the scripture "If ye are prepared, ye shall not fear," namely, why we don't need to fear. It comes down to the idea that the Lord loves us so very much that He wants us to succeed. He wants us to be happy and fulfilled. He will never set us up for failure or abject misery. He may allow us to experience things that test us and make us grow, but He will never try to make us miserable. The preparation part is our responsibility to do what is within our control. He will take care of the rest.

I'm feeling comfortable with my end of this preparation scale, and I know that the Lord keeps His promises. And not everything in my life is up in the air. There are some things that I do have control over that are contributing to my peace of mind:
~I have a place to live (more than one, actually, thanks to generous offers from friends and psuedo-family-members) for an indefinite amount of time, and multiple offers that will accommodate my financial needs if I need to tighten my living expenses.
~Thanks to saving for a car, I've built up a healthy little nest egg of savings that will support me for a few months of unemployment. I need that money for a car, but it's there if the greater need of survival comes up.
~My resume is polished and well-rounded---and extremely adaptable to the various types of jobs I've been looking at/applying for.

I can't control whether a company considers my application or not. I can't dictate the outcomes of job interviews. I can't be confident that I'm the best-qualified applicant for the job. But I can keep the rest of my life in order so that, no matter how hard it gets or how long the job hunt draws out, I have some measure of security.

Here are a couple of other reasons why I'm not panicky right now:

~In a priesthood blessing, the Lord told me flat-out not to worry---that's a pretty good reason, don't you think?
~I just got a new calling in my ward, less than three weeks before, ostensibly, I would have to move---since callings are divinely inspired, I feel allowed to hope that that means the Lord kind of wants to keep me in the same place for a little longer.
~Normally, I'd have the packing boxes out and would be more than halfway packed by now, but I've felt no inclination whatsoever to pack. This break from my typical behavior suggests either hope-driven delusion, or Spirit-inspired stupor of thought regarding packing. If it's the former, I have bigger problems than packing to worry about. I'd like to think that I'm fairly receptive to the promptings of the Spirit. Enough so that I'd know whether I should start packing or not.
~I also keep experiencing stupors of thought when it comes to jobs outside of Salt Lake. The ones that keep coming back up---or dropping in my lap in the first place---are all local. Another thing that makes me feel hopeful about finding something nearby so that I don't have to uproot and start over completely once again.

I hope that gives you a little peek into my mind (and my future) and puts to rest a few of your questions. I'd also like to express my sincere gratitude for the people in my life who have been praying for me, crossing their fingers for me, thinking about me, and wishing for my success. It makes a huge difference to know that I am loved and supported. I wish each of you success in the dreams you're chasing as well.

In Other News...

Geez, Lynnae. Do you ever talk about anything besides work these days? You sound like a workaholic.

Departing from the trend of the last many posts, here's an update on my personal life:

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Okay, so I don't really have one. Or at least, not one that would satisfy all those people who are curious about the boys sweeping me off my feet, or wildly fulfilling nights out with the girls. To be honest, even though I've adjusted to the schedule and the (positive!) emotional wear-down of my job, I'm still pretty worn out at the end of the day. I'd much rather curl up on my bed with a book than go out and play.

I did see Qait and her family during conference weekend. It was wonderful. As comfortable as being with my own family. Mom Boatright and I snuggled up together for a little while during the Sunday morning session. Whenever I could, I stole Scarlett away from her adoring mother. Not exactly easy. Qait is a very loving, dedicated mother. She loves holding Scarlett (and I love watching her hold Scarlett, to be honest). But I got some time to play with her, too.

That sweet little baby such a talker. She coos and burbles and smiles at you the instant you bend over to play with her. I'm sure she's telling us marvelous stories that we can't understand. (And sneaky Aunt Lynnae whispered to her that she should grow up to be a storyteller and a world-famous author when Mom wasn't around.)

Later, while Qait was sleeping, Scarlett started to fuss, so I picked her up and carried her around, soothing her until she finally drifted off to sleep. When I was sure she wouldn't wake, I finally sat down in the rocking chair and listened to the rest of conference, enjoying the tingly feeling of my arm falling asleep underneath her. Funny how much I liked a sensation that's normally considered uncomfortable. I blame those cute little baby sounds she made as she slept.

Okay, so Lynnae lives for work and her best friend's kids. That's a real thrilling single-girl life.

I did have a date-ish-thing last Thursday. A guy in the ward called me up and asked if I'd like to go get some ice cream with him. We ate delicious frozen custard and played Set (heh. I won. But he put up a good fight.) on the table while we finished our ice cream. It was nice to go on a date again. Between finishing classes, graduating, and moving, I haven't had much of a dating life for several months.

Apparently I'm not a lost cause. :)

Once Upon A Time

So once upon a time, there were these two frogs. A girl frog and a boy frog. They were happy. Suddenly, an evil witch appeared and turned the boy frog into a prince. And he was stuck as a prince. The girl frog was so sad that the witch had taken her froggy lover that she raised an army of fellow frogs and went after the witch. They succeeded in turning the witch into a snake. But that meant the frog-who-was-now-a-prince was stuck even more permanently as a prince. Eventually, he found a lovely princess and they got married. And the girl frog? Well, she fell in love with one of the boy frogs who had helped her take down the witch, so she got a happy, though unconventional, ending too. And somebody stepped on the snake. So it didn't hurt anyone.

Many thanks to Aubry, who was bored enough in the checkout line at Walmart to turn around and tell me this story off the top of her head. I told her to write it on her blog, but she never did, so I guess I'll do it. I was really impressed that she barely paused as she told the story, even though she made it all up in the moment, just to pass the time.

And people wonder why I like going shopping with Aubry. :)

Sacrificing a Marshmallow Virgin

These photos are belated. By exactly a week. We sacrificed a marshmallow virgin (don't ask--I'm not even sure I want to know) on Squaw Peak on the summer solstice and this is the photographic evidence. Kind of.

We have a new roommate! Allow us to introduce Emily! She's pretty awesome. (And she's the second one from the left)

Savannah attempting to light the marshmallow virgin (five marshmallows stuffed onto a stick figure)

We then threw marshmallows in the air (thus feeding the wildlife and appeasing the buggy hunger that was rampant up there) and did our own terrible renditions of "rain dances" or whatever ritual dance you can think of.

Part of me is inclined to feel slightly embarrassed by our silliness. The rest of me loves it. I have to be a responsible adult soon. So I'm living it up while I can. :)

On the bright side, we could have done far worse (a la Midsummer Night's Dream) on the summer solstice.

It's All the Rage, Yo!

Planking. The latest fad. Well, in Australia. And it's actually a little outdated, because it has since been superseded by "the new planking": cone-ing. Curious about it? Allow me to show you:



I love people. They do the dumbest things sometimes. Granted, the ab strength it takes to hold some of those "planks" is really impressive when you think about it. Anyway, we watched this at work (because, when one is sitting in front of a computer all day, even the most mundane distraction is exhilarating) and Scott decided right then and there that he needed to get in on this planking craze. So he set the webcam on the Baby Mac, jumped on the counter across the room, and took this:

...just as our sort-of boss Greg walked around the corner. Just imagine it. You're walking down the hall, minding your own business, when suddenly, one of your employees leaps across the room, clatters on top of a desk, and then face-plants himself there, holding the pose for some reason that you can't possibly fathom.

He had the most perfect "what the..." face I have ever seen, muttered, "I'm afraid to ask..." and walked away, while Kaylie and I laughed so hard we cried.

Then Scott persuades us to do it too. Criticize me if you want, but I gave in to the peer pressure, then helped him convince Kaylie to do it, too. That done, we decided to spice things up just a tad more and took this picture, which now hangs proudly in our office:

Our boss Jessika tells us that we are ridiculous. She's probably right. But really now. It's summer. We're cooped up in a windowless room for 6-8 hours a day. What do you expect us to do? Sometimes, our youthful energy just has to release with a bang.

She should be grateful we didn't decide to use her desk for some extra kicks.

And in case you were wondering, this is why I still love my job. The actual work is often boring, but the people are fun.

New Guys and Nosy Friends

I may or may not have had a conversation with a friend recently that went remarkably like this, providing in "this" you substitute genders where necessary:

On second thought, there may have been several conversations that have gone like this. Hooray for new semesters...

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Some of them may or may not have involved me being Calvin.

Calvin's truthfulness is subject to your interpretation.

"Girl's" Night Out

Tonight, I had a Girls Night Out. It was great. We went out, ate food, talked about boys, and went to see a movie. Only that movie was I Am Number Four, we ate at a burger joint, and we talked about with one boy: Kristopher, since he was with us the whole time. Yes, that's right, our girls night had me, Stephanie, and Kristopher. A boy. Ironic, isn't it? The funny thing is that it was all his idea (even the mani/pedis that we ended up not doing, but planned on). He heard us talking about girls nights and complained to us that boys never do that sort of thing. So he batted his big eyes at us and got us to take him with us the next time we went.

The funny thing is, his exposure to the girls night experience, while lacking in the makeovers and pedicures he'd been imagining, was actually fairly representative of the way girls nights go down in my apartment. We usually stick to just food and a movie. And more often than not, the movie is an action movie anyway.

We also learned that we just can't take him anywhere without some girl falling head over heels for him. We were standing in line at Five Guys, waiting to order our burgers, when a girl behind him commented on his shoes (those weird toe-sock-type shoes that I will never ever get used to, no matter how many times I see him wear them) and he said something typically witty in response. He was too busy ordering his food at that point, but I saw the girl turn and give that "he's so cute" look to her friend--complete with the little girly giggle. *facepalm* Oh Kristopher, you heartbreaker.

All the better for me, because the fact that he is so good looking makes it twice as much fun to be his best friend. First of all, because when girls overload him with goodies (attempting to use the old proverb "The way to a man's heart is through his stomach" to their advantage) he often donates a significant portion of them to me and my roommates and we get to benefit from magnificent culinary labors without all the cooking-and-cleanup hassle. Second, because the sheer confusion that runs across a girl's face when he flirts with them in front of me (or Stephanie) is always, always priceless. And third, sometimes it's just really entertaining to get the stink eye from some jealous girl, just because I get to sit down next to him. Add those perks to the basic friend-perks of making me laugh, helping me out when I'm in a jam, and keeping me humble, and I'm never bored. 

All in all, one of the best girls nights out I've ever had. Not to knock on my other GNOs with my roomies, but irony just makes things that much more fun.

Fackeltanz!

Let me just begin by saying that I. Love. the. Festival of Colors! And who wouldn't? A million packages of colored, scented chalk dust chucked into the air, with an uncanny propensity to be inhaled and choked on. Who wouldn't love that? Okay, so a lot of people wouldn't. But it's a blast to get completely coated in neon-colored powder.

Savannah, Michelle, Kristina, my date, and I went to the first color throwing this morning, wading through snow (which turned to mud by the time we finished). But when you cram a couple thousand people onto a hillside, you stop worrying about snow.

This is our before shot. Trust me. The after shots are pretty obvious. By this time, we'd finished this crazy awesome Hindu dance that got us sweating, so we definitely didn't notice the cold anymore. Probably a good thing.

The festivities start with live music, dancing, and, if you know where to find it, more information about the legends behind the festival. And, to keep ourselves amused, we smear each other with chalk.

The handprints on the butts... that was me. What can I say? I'm trouble. ;)

Then, there's a big countdown (and a sudden surge in the number of people attempting to bodysurf... which is inconvenient) and everyone throws whatever chalk they haven't smeared on their comrades into the air. The sky goes dark (well, purpleish brown), the air suddenly becomes saturated with more powder than even a healthy person should probably be allowed to inhale. After several minutes, most of the dust settles and you emerge looking something like this:

Favorite part about this picture? The guy in the background, joining in our picture. We were less emotive, but that's about how we felt. :)

Some of our original smearing still shows, but we were wearing white, if you recall.

Assuming you don't have face coverings or the presence of mind to keep your mouth closed, you come out looking like a dentist's worst nightmare and suddenly your skin is several shades darker than it should be. You can't escape it, you can't run from it. You just jump in the middle and get as dirty as you possibly can. And if you do happen to look cleaner than most, well, there are a couple hundred clever people (including me, this year) who keep at least one bag of colored chalk in reserve to dump on you and solve the problem of looking too clean at Holifest.

Which is funny, because I did actually manage to look cleaner this year than I did last year. My shirt still looks marginally white.

So I guess that's proof that you can come out of Holifest with salvageable clothing. (Which is good, because even though I bought that pink undershirt to destroy it, I actually kind of like it, so I want to get it clean again). Granted, you'll be sneezing purple boogers for a few days, your hair will turn the shower water purple for at least five minutes, and you may or may not find neon colors under your nails.

But you know what? It's totally worth it! I'm probably not doing a very good job of convincing you, but that's okay. Some people hate being dirty. They don't go. For me, it's a great excuse to get dirty, since my cozy desk job and magazine class don't exactly provide many opportunities for that.

And Holifest is a celebration of springtime (ironic, with the freshly fallen snow on the ground...) which means that it officially marks the beginning of my summer adventures, which will hopefully include hot springs, lava tubes, canyoning, camping, and waterfalls, and, if I'm very very lucky, spelunking.

Oh, and for the record, "fackeltanz" is a German word that basically has to do with torchlit wedding processions for German royals. But we discovered it playing Balderdash and our favorite definition was more along the lines of "maseltov," so the nuance kind of stuck. So throw some imaginary confetti in the air, waggle your fingers and say "fackeltanz!" I promise it will make you feel smiley.

Or maybe that's just me. The word nerd loves new words, and they always make her smile.

Healing and Forgiveness

The best remedy in the world for someone's frustration or grouchiness is not to tell them that they are grouchy (because they probably already know that, and if they're like me, that just makes it worse), but to just sit and listen to them. Because I've come to realize that no matter how unreasonable someone's behavior appears to be, there's actually almost always some reason for it, and if they're grouchy at me, it's often because of something I've done (intentional or no).

Joseph Smith, when asked about forgiving others who are mad at you when you're not at fault, taught this lesson: In your mind, go back to the exact scenario and evaluate your actions. If there is even the smallest chance that you might have contributed to the other person's offense, either by accident or design, graciously accept that revelation of a weakness that you didn't know you possessed. Then forgive and forget. I might also add the inclusion of an apology, as appropriate. That's extremely paraphrased, because even though I taught it as part of my lesson on Sunday, I don't have it memorized. But that's the essential gist of it.

Basically, people just want to be loved and understood. And the fastest way to dispel contention is to show someone who is suffering that love and understanding. I have a favorite President Monson quote:

Never let a problem to be solved cause you to pass up a person to be loved

It's become a personal motto for this year (and hopefully for the rest of my life). I won't say I'm always good at acting on President Monson's advice, because I'm not. But I've made it a goal to try to remember it more often. And the funny thing about it? No matter how angry, frustrated, stressed, or resentful I might feel, if I actually stop and try to understand someone else's frustrations, I often forget about my own. And both of us almost always come out feeling a little more loved and understood.

That's something I've learned this week. I thought I'd share.

Oh Stephanie

Sometimes, I love my roommate. Here's why:

She was balancing pretzel sticks on her upper lip and trying to catch them on her tongue and blessed us with this little jewel:

"I can't loosen my lip muscle and stick out my tongue at the same time! That sounds like I'm trying to figure out the dynamics of kissing..."

Well...

Note to self, if I need to figure out the dynamics of kissing...

Hahahahaha. Joke. I think I've got that down already. ;-)

On the flip side, Stephanie has two dates this week. If those dates go well, I'll know to blame the pretzels.
 

On My Mind

My brain won't let me sleep tonight. Which is why I'm up at an unseemly hour, writing a blog post instead of being sound asleep in my bed. That's where I'd really like to be, but no, my brain (and the slightly-too-warm temperature of our apartment) decided to drag me out here to the couch. Sigh.

So what is plaguing me? Oh, the usual. Things undone. Things still to do. Boys. Work. School. Life. Pretty much everything.

Caught her in mid-laugh. It's so perfectly Janae, and I love it!

On the bright side, the completion of my to-do list is roughly half done. Savannah and I got up this morning and did a photoshoot with my beautiful friend Janae so that I could get some pictures to work with for a project in my InDesign class. This isn't a picture I'll use, but I'll give you a sneak peek: -------------->

My date last night went well. Zivko is one of the funnest (and funniest) people to be around, so it was pretty much impossible for it to be anything but fun. I don't mean to make it sound like a checklist, but having the date done takes a pretty big stress off my shoulders, since it was girls choice and therefore required planning, paying for, and making sure he had a good time. It ups my respect for guys, since they do this all the time. The more I learn about them, the more I'm impressed. Way to go, men. You handle the stress of date-planning far more gracefully than I do, I think.

I'll be honest, the award for what's-on-Lynnae's-mind-the-most goes to the Church Magazine internship. Half of me wants to just get this over with, but the other half knows that I need to give it my best. Then there's a third half that yo-yos back and forth between panic and excitement at any given moment. (Status check: more on the panicky side right now.)

I have so much more to say, I promise! Life really is great right now, but I suppose that the brain running in overdrive does not lend itself well to cheerful, optimistic recounting of events. So, in an effort to avoid thinking too much, I'm going to sit down and read The Infinite Atonement, because that, more than anything else, slows the whirling thoughts down. :)

On a side note that is only partially connected to the previous thought: Not long ago, I made a list of 100 life goals. 100 things I'd like to have achieved when I die. Some are pretty personal, but some are more fun, and I'd kind of like to share them, since they run along the veins of New Year's Resolutions. So, once a week or so, I'll spotlight a goal that I'm working on or hope to achieve someday.

Yep, I just now decided that. It'll help me keep things in perspective. :)

Sneak Attack

So once upon a time, I warned Aubry that I might sneak-attack hug her on her way down the hall. And like Hobbes, my trajectory was such that I couldn't have stopped even if I'd wanted to. I cannot guarantee that she didn't feel this way about me when I actually did sneak attack her.