What Even.

Things have gotten strange and weird and maybe awesome.

The boy I'm in love with and I had a DTR and I think we are... together.

Which means I need a job so I have the money to go out for General Conference to see my... um... boyfriend.

Please excuse me while I:

What I Got For Christmas

What I got for Christmas was confusion and my period.

Well, I also got snow pants, 6 inch heels and a sweet DSLR camera which I have been dying for since I was a junior in high school. But I'm talking about something else here. A few days before Christmas I got a box in the mail. It was addressed to a one Ms. Daisy Buchanan from a Mr. Jay Gatsby. I of course immediately knew who it was from. It was from a boy.

Inside the box was a plethora of things that made me go "Awww!" He sent me a BYU tshirt and hat, some Stephen's hot cocoa and fry sauce, a Disney coloring book, some souvenirs from the Nauvoo temple, and the Lion House Cakes and Cupcakes cookbook. It was so sweet and thoughtful and Mormon of him.

Do boys send packages to girls they are just friends with?

Something about Gifts.

See, that's a funny title because this post is about Christmas AND my period. So like, Christmas gifts and my "monthly gift." Get it? Haha? Hahaha? No? Anyway. It's the Christmas season and I'm about to make all of you feel at least mildly uncomfortable by discussing essential elements of female reproduction, because that's what Christmas is all about.

It's 2am on Christmas Eve and my period is making its monthly debut. This freakin' blows, you guys, for so many reasons. Because getting your period any day of any month sucks. First of all, I feel like absolute crap. My stomach is upset and my abdomen is twisting and wrenching and cramping and just generally being a drama queen about everything. I also have to pee like every 20 minutes. I don't know why, but it always happens. I'm tired, my back hurts, I have a headache.

Also. It's hard to be in the Christmas spirit. You don't exactly feel jolly when your uterus feels like it's going to fall out your butt. You want to rip someone's throat out with your teeth. You want to go all honey badger all up in here. You find yourself wanting to speed up instead of slow down for pedestrians. Everything everyone says makes you just a little bit more pissed off. It's like shark week in your pants and you're not happy about it.

Not to mention that now I can't wear the skirt I wanted to wear for Christmas Eve. Because it's too tight and shows panty lines. And I am not under any circumstances about to wear a THONG on the heaviest day of my flow, dang it. It's just not smart. So now I'm going to have to find something less attractive and more comfortable to wear so that nobody catches on that I'm wearing my ugly stupid period panties.

Seriously, this is totally the worst. I'm gonna have my period on Christmas and it's totally crap because I had it on Thanksgiving too and like SERIOUSLY, OVARIES?! You know how well adjusted I am with my family so you're just going to screw up not one, but TWO family-central holidays for me? You just thought, "Oh, she's usually so well-behaved around her relatives, I'm sure she won't mind a little menstruation!"??!? Well congratulations, reproductive system. You're ruining my life.

That awkward moment...

...when you say "I love you!" before you hang up the phone with a boy in Utah who you totally DO love but you had no intention of telling him that.

Oh crap.

A non-sanctioned blog post!

I feel like everyone must have a dysfunctional family, at least to a certain extent. Is YOUR family totally neurotic? I feel like my family is one of those Facebook tagging pictures or something. You know, The Arrogant One, The Sweet One, The Sarcastic One, The One With Zero Personality, The Selfish One, The Inappropriate One, The One That Tries Too Hard, The Control Freak, The Smart One, The Annoying One... That sort of thing. (Hey family. Tag yourselves.)

Anyway, I always have a hard time dealing with my family. Because I do love them (most of them). But I feel like if we weren't family, we probably wouldn't even be friends, you know? That's the weird thing about family. You don't even necessarily like them but you're stuck with them because you all share a couple chromosomes or something. I don't know... something like that. I don't know anything about genetics.

But being surrounded by people that you're supposed to like based on social norms is stressful for me. Because a lot of times people are stupid and ridiculous and I don't know what the eff is wrong with them and they just need to get over it already because SERIOUSLY PEOPLE! Large group settings mess with my head anyway.

Except that that's not really true 100% of the time. When I was in Utah, I met Matt's entire family. Like, extended family. 2 of his 3 sisters and 1 of his 2 brothers, and their families, in addition to Matt's parents. And I feel like I could get along with all of them forever. Why am I more tolerant of his family than of mine? Are they just that much more awesome? That can't be it.

Okay, they're pretty awesome. Matt's mom is a judge. Matt's dad is a pediatrician. His sister works for Mitt Romney's campaign and he like... calls her directly. And her two little girls are precious. His other sister is a lawyer. His aunt Kay is the coolest person I've ever met, and she's a guardian ad litem. His third sister is a photographer. Matt is studying photography at BYU. He goes to all his nephews' football games and takes pictures for their teams. His brothers are an architect and... like... the creator of Nu Skin or something. And they ALL GET ALONG. Like really really well. And I got along with all of them too.

Is it that we can't tolerate our own families as well as other families? Is it that I'm more compatible with the awesome Mormon family than with my own? I feel kind of... okay, REALLY guilty about feeling that way. But seriously. They're all like... healthy, wealthy and well-adjusted. It's exactly the kind of family I've always wanted, with a million people that all love each other like crazy. And my family is awesome and cool and usually decently well-behaved.

But seriously. Mitt Romney calls her. That's way cooler than anything we've got going for us.

How you like me now, college?!

I just aced my history exam. That's right. Let's talk about how I just aced my history exam. Actually, let's not because I don't even have that much to say except that I made that test my bitch. And I made my English Comp portfolio my hooker. And I smoked my last speech like weed.

'Kay, that didn't make any sense whatsoever. But I'm just saying that I'm awesome. I got a safe full of cherries cuz I pop it and lock it.

This is my final post that counts for a journal entry, because after this I've met my quota. And unfortunately I have nothing to really say in it except for talk about how freakin' awesome I am. Which is funny because usually I talk about how un-awesome I am. Nice change of pace, from low self-confidence to narcissist in 1 post!

Anyway. Shut up and watch this youtube video.

These pancakes are super thick, mom!

Gets me every time.

Procrastinator.

It's 2:37 am and I'm exhausted but still awake. I have been cramming and frantically writing all weekend and I'm pretty sure this is how 90% of people in real colleges feel quite often, when they have real-college assignments due and real-college finals to study for.

I just finished my portfolio for 2 different classes... Illustrations and Composition. Right up to the wire on both of them... that's my style. The last paper I wrote I finished 30 minutes before class and got a 96%. I spent about an hour on the whole thing. It seems like the less I try, the better I do. That's a horrible life lesson, kids, but it's proving to be true for me.

I put my Comp portfolio on astrobright paper. My revisions are on neon pink. And I mean neon... retina-burning soul-on-fire pink. I figure if they hurt to read my teacher will assume they are okay and give me an okay grade without really reading them because reading them physically hurts. It's genius, actually. Provided it has the desired effect.

My illustrations class was such a fun class. Like insanely enjoyable. I got to draw cute little doodles of kids all the time and I got college credit for it. And that's my kind of class.... doing things I would be doing anyway and then getting credit for it. Why doesn't my entire life work like that? Why don't I get paid to eat food and sing in the shower?

Speaking of singing, I got a part in my church Christmas program. I'm the alto part in O Holy Night. It's a quartet, and we're singing it a cappella. It makes me a little nervous, but I think I can do it. And I was really really happy to be picked. I KNEW there was a reason I went to church today! I almost didn't because I was stressed out.

Now at least I don't have to worry about school again for a little while. Now I just have to worry about finishing a pair of shoes, cleaning the house for company and baking a German chocolate cake in the next 2 days. Swell...