Mission Week #7

"It feels like Christmas all the time in the mission. That is because Jesus Christ is our Savior every day--not just in the Christmas season. I wish you all a Merry Christmas! I could say something cheesy like "remember the reason for the season," but I hate rhyming. I think you'll get the message otherwise. Thanks for all your love and support!"

The Miracle of the Lost Cell Phone

My companion and I lost our missionary cell phone. This is a huge deal because we are unable to contact anyone without it--like most cell phones, I'm sure. Luckily we were at a conference, so we didn't need it for anything, but we knew that we couldn't get right back to work when we were finished because we had no way to communicate other than randomly stopping by places (which isn't always successful). Although it seems silly, we prayed that we would find this phone. Then we got to work by tearing apart our apartment and car. We looked at the church which was the only place we had gone that day. After hours, it was nowhere to be found. It was the end of the day, and we were just going to give up, and ask the office for a new cell phone and get in trouble for losing our old one. I half-heartedly said, "maybe we threw it in the garbage." Then it wouldn't leave our minds because that was the one place we hadn't checked. The thing is, we had already thrown our garbage in a dumpster. But we were desperate, so we drove to the dumpster, ready to get our hands dirty, and lo, and behold--our cell phone was just sitting on top of the snow on the ground away from the path we had taken.

IT WAS A CHRISTMAS MIRACLE!!!!

This seems like a typical experience, but it really was an answered prayer. God cares about the seemingly insignificant things in our lives. He often requires us to exercise our faith by going to work. It wasn't until we were ready to dig through trash that our cell phone appeared. This experience might not have mattered in the grand scheme of the universe, but it taught me a lot about how God works in our lives. We go through hard times--not so that God can sit back and watch us suffer--but so that we can realize how he guides our paths. I know God is very involved in the details of our lives. It is only when we are stretched to the limit that God can help us grow and become more like Him.

Mission Week #5

Being a missionary is so hard sometimes. For example, yesterday was fast Sunday, and one family scheduled us for lunch and another for dinner. However, the lunch appointment was changed to an hour later and the dinner appointment was changed to an hour earlier. And Sunday lunch is more like dinner anyway. This basically adds up to having to eat two delicious dinners and two delicious desserts within an hour and a half. I was so full, I wanted to cry. I don't know how I fit the second dinner in, but it was definitely a tender mercy. I have it pretty bad here in Canada sometimes.

Mission Week #4

Time goes by so fast in the mission! Eventually I want to put pictures on this thing, so I hope that isn't too complicated for my mom who updates my blog.

The mission does some really weird things to you. I actually got talked into singing a solo; I rejoice when it's only 0 degrees Celsius; (almost) anything tastes good after 5:30 p.m.; I want to knock on every. single. door; I don't push the snooze button anymore. What is going on?

The only thing I can come up with is that having an attitude of happiness and gratitude in our lives changes our perception. I've really learned a lot about what is important and what is not these past couple of weeks. I've realized that God truly is loving and merciful, and if we take the time to look around, we can see that He truly does guide our paths. This journey of learning and teaching and giving is the greatest journey I could hope to have.

I love you all!

Mission Week #3

"I'm in Canada now! I don't have a lot of time today, but I just have to say that the Canada "eh" is real. I thought it was a joke, but EVERYONE uses it. And people think I have an accent here, which is cool I guess. I've also experienced the coldest weather of. my. life. This isn't even the worst of it, I hear. But I haven't complained of the cold yet! That's my goal--to not complain and to be nice in cold weather. I become the world's meanest woman when I'm cold if you didn't know. Flannel sheets are my best friend! I've actually been quite happy because teaching people about Jesus Christ gives me more joy than I could have imagined. I sleep like a rock every night because I'm so exhausted. I love being exhausted for a good cause!

Well friends, I'll be a little more thoughtful next week, but I hope you all are happy! Happiness and joy are possible in this life because of our Savior, Jesus Christ. Just know that you are never forgotten."

Mission Week #2

I'm still living the MTC life! I'm learning a lot about myself and what kind of person I want to be, which can be quite exhausting. I'm learning even more about helping and loving others. If I could say anything to anyone stumbling across this, it would be this: Believe that there is a God in heaven who knows you personally by name and who loves you. Believe that we have a Savior, Jesus Christ who is the way, the truth, and the light. Believe that through Him, we can be better today than we were yesterday.

Check out mormon.org and you can search my name under the "meet people" tab.

I would love to hear from anyone! You can email me at tanya.milburn@myldsmail.net, but leave your address, so that I can write you back! Or you can send me a letter to my Canadian address because I'll be there in less than a week!

Peace!

Mission Week #1

Hey Everyone!

I've been in the Missionary Training Center (MTC) for a week now. It has been the longest week of my life--in a good way. We have 16 hours of our day scheduled out six days a week. Pretty crazy huh? Being busy is one of the best feelings though, I think.

There are a lot of rules at the MTC, and you will be surprised that I've kept the feisty to a minimum, so I've followed all of them. If you know me, you'll know that I can sometimes be a rule-bender, but I'm breaking that habit.

I live with four girls in one room, which could be asking for trouble drama-wise or swine flu-wise. Luckily, we haven't run into either! I don't really believe in swine flu anyway...

Best Quote of the Week--

Sister Jones (while looking at the cover of one of our church/mission booklets): Why is there a Hispanic on the cover??

Me: Sister Jones, you can't just ASK that...

Disclaimer: She's not racist; she promises.

Well I love you all! And God does too! You should ask Him just to make sure though :)

Peace Out.

It's that time!

Here are my addresses for my mission:

MTC Address--

Sister Tanya Milburn
Canada Edmonton Mission
Provo Missionary Training Center
2005 N. 900 E.
Provo, UT 84604

AFTER NOVEMBER 16th:

Sister Tanya Milburn
Canada Edmonton Mission
8925 51st Ave Ste 305
Edmonton, AB T6E 5J3
Canada

I can only email my family, but if you want that letter to be forwarded to you, you can get a hold of my mom. If you don't know my mom or know her well enough, never fret! I will send her updates to post on this blog, so the benevolent stalkers can still know what I'm up to because you know it gets crazy in Canada!

My address might change when I'm in Canada, but if it does it will be posted. Just look for the "address" label on the right side and it will show you the most recent one.

Lastly, If you want to send me YOUR address via facebook or email (tanyamilburn@hotmail.com), I will keep it with me, and at some point write you a letter.

If you write me, I will most definitely write you a letter back! I guarantee it. (Is anyone else thinking of those old Burlington Coat Factory ads?)

Anyway, I love you all! Thanks for being my friends!

we didn't start the fire

I have seen this quote come up a fair few times on blogs, tumblrs, or pinterest (<--new love, by the way.) But you know what I say to this?

NO. Just NO.

How about: Look like a woman; Act like a woman; Think like a woman; Work like a woman--in whatever way that means to you.

Or even better and more universal: Look like yourself; Act like yourself; Think for yourself; Work with your whole self.

I think the part that irked me the most was the "Think like a man" line.

Think like a man.

What does that even mean? What does that even mean?!

My sexism detector is going off like crazy. All jokes aside though, reading this "mantra" is very troubling to me because quite frankly, this quote, behind its delicate salmon font, is internalized misogyny.

["Oh here we go, Tanya is getting all uppity..."]--I know some of you are thinking this.

It is not better to think like a man (if you are not a man). It is also not better to think like a woman (if you are not a woman). I think it is best to think like an individual.

I started to delve into my views on feminism, patriarchy, gender, etc., but I'll save it for another blog post because it could take...awhile.

Simply put, I think men and women do think differently because their brains are different. In development, the brain goes through masculinization or feminization based on the sex and the hormones to which it is exposed. (There are many disorders where this process can be disturbed, but this is what typically happens.)

Anyway, there is no right or superior way to think, contrary to what this quotation was implying. My thoughts and ideas are just as valid as a woman--and more so because I'm a person.

And I still don't know what it means to think like a man--because I'm not a man; I'll never be a man, so how can that even be a goal? Is it because they're stereotyped to be more logical? I beg to differ; anyone can use logic. Is it because they are stereotyped to be less emotional? I think emotions are the most human thing we possess. So someone please explain what it means!

I honestly don't get it.

I am capable of creativity, genius, humor, and brilliance all on my own, thanks.

And for all of the eye-rollers, I leave you with this:

"People call me a feminist whenever I express sentiments that distinguish me from a doormat."--Rebecca West

a middle class problem

My parents have three cars. We currently have three people living at home. Easy math; everyone is satisfied.

But...

One of our cars broke down a couple days ago, and my dad has been unsuccessful at fixing it himself. (A for effort though...) This means we only have two cars between three people. Not so easy math.

Now we have to compromise and coordinate. Ugh.

confession time

I can internet for a long time.

Not. Good.

I blame the fact that I'm trapped at home without a car. Save me!

boots

I finally found a pair of boots to wear on my mission.

The challenge was sifting through all the pairs with heels. Does anyone believe in cute, flat shoes anymore?? I seriously hate boots with heels.

If you're most likely going to wear a certain shoe for cold weather, that means there will probably be ice at some point. And the last thing you want on your shoe is a heel at that point.

So I don't get it.

orgullo

I'm getting pretty fancy fancy with this blog thing--by Tanya standards of course.

changing it up

Don't worry! You're in the right place! I just changed my blog design because I couldn't stand the tacky book background anymore.

Now everything is clean and simple.

I'm still blog-tarded though.

AND I want you all to know that I spent hours last night going through over 300 blog posts just to add labels to them (at the bottom). That way you, or probably just I, can look up blog posts according to a subject. I realized that most of my posts with the label "being vague" almost always had the label "dating" as well. I guess that kind of takes the vagueness out of it, but oh well. You know that you are successful at being vague when you, as the author, can't even remember what the post was about. That happened a couple times...

you heard it here first

I have a lot of time to dream up random things.

My latest: I want to do stand-up comedy (like, once--not as a life career.)

When I'm home by myself, I find myself turning everything into a joke. And then I imagine how I would tell it in front of an audience. I may or may not have even practiced in front of a mirror. (Gosh, I need to get out of here....)

Anyway, maybe when I'm a grad student, I'll try out for my school's stand up comedy troupe or entertain a church party.

Note to self: This could all go horrible awry...and leave me crying in shame. But I could check it off the bucket list!

Another pet peeve

I also hate when people misuse the word "ironic." Don't think Alanis Morissette is the only one...

Han(d) Solo

(I know you can probably derive some inappropriate joke from that title, but let's take a leap out of the gutter, shall we?)

The other night I did my first face painting gig by myself. All summer I would do balloons or paint with the clowns I work with, and eventually I was just with another assistant/partner in crime. However, this time I was 100% on my own, which made me kind of nervous because here's the thing:

I'm the girl who in fourth grade tried to draw a horse, and my own mother couldn't decipher what it was. I'm the girl who could only draw a picture if I did that thing where you draw a grid on it and then replicate the picture square for square. I'm the girl who chose to write the paper over the "artistic" option for school projects. Basically, I've never been artistic, but I've been working really hard this summer to change that.

And I do alright now--with face paint, that is.

So anyway, I went to my first birthday party for this Vietnamese girl. (Seriously, Asians have the cutest kids.) The minute I knew it was an Asian party, I knew it was going to be an Asian party. Here's the thing about Asians, they always seem to know all the other Asians in the area. For example, this whole party was Vietnamese. And they all spoke Vietnamese to each other. Guess who doesn't speak Vietnamese? Me. Guess who felt like an extreme outsider*? Me. I think I was just worried that they were talking about my face painting skills.

Everything went okay, and I think most of the kids were happy (except the girl for whom I drew a panda. That was just bad. How am I supposed to remember what they look like?? It's not like I'm Asian!**) I was about to leave when the mom insisted that I have cake. Then she insisted that I eat the extremely authentic food they prepared. I actually ate pork for the first time in over five years because I was so afraid of offending them. (I'm sorry vegetarian gods!) I even had this soup that I had to slurp really loud to show my approval.

Needless to say, I was there for an extra hour and a half just eating Vietnamese food and trying to make conversation. They had fun saying Vietnamese things to me and laughing because I didn't understand. Smile and nod; smile and nod; smile and nod...

It was a noche muy cultured.

*I'm not implying that they didn't have the right to be speaking their own language. I'm not one of those "This is Amurica!" kind of Americans. Rather, I desperately wished I could communicate with them in their language. Rosetta Stone? Don't mind if I do!

**That was pseudo-racism, I swear. (It's hard when you don't know who is reading this.)

tarde

Sometimes I want to communicate everything.

But I wonder:

Is it sometimes too late? Even if you have a million things you can say, should you say them? Maybe all your dwelling with only come out as desperation?

Are some things better left unsaid?

jungle gym

I have been going to the gym pretty frequently since I moved home and got a membership. You'd think that I would be in really great shape by now, but you'd be wrong. I'm only in great shape on the inside. You see:

Four years of cheap, lame college food x the unlimited options of Mom's grocery shopping=

I'm going to eat whatever the hell I want.

So that's how that goes. I exercise enough to keep the obesity at bay. I'll be in Canada soon, so I'll need the extra heat storage. And after that, I'll be an even poorer grad student with cheap, lame food again, so I'll enjoy this while it lasts.

So the gym...(I like how I can never stay on topic.)

It has a fair amount of diversity, but I have a certain list of:

People I Don't Trust at the Gym

Girls that wear make-up

Girls that wear their hair down

Girls that have the majority of their breasts hanging out of their sports bras. (Isn't that what sports bras are for? To lock those things down and out of sight??)

The die-hard elliptical users

The die-hard steppers

Men who grunt

Men who only work out in front of a mirror

The hot yoga snobs

This means that there are really only a few cool people at the gym. I'm one of them, of course.

self-reflection

I'm a weird person. I do a lot of weird things. I have a strange sense of humor. And I laugh at my own jokes--sometimes by myself. (But I quickly shut that down because funny people don't laugh at their own jokes. I blogged about that here. And I want to be a funny person.)

Can you work on being funny? Or is it just inherent? I feel like you can work on any other quality like patience, kindness, assertiveness, etc. I don't know about funny though. Maybe you have it or you don't. I just don't want to be a 40 year-old spinsty, and all people can say about me is, "I don't know why she's alone. She's so...nice." Bleh. I feel like "nice" is the last resort quality when people can't think of anything else to describe you. I'd rather be funny.

Funny is actually a funny word if you keep saying it to yourself.

One time a guy was talking about a girl he was trying to date, and he said she was "too independent." (Ugh, this isn't the 1950's...) He also had a problem with the fact that she was funnier than he was, so he couldn't impress her with his (non)-humor.

He was lame, but it made me think. Do boys not like girls to be too funny?!?

Anyway, like I've said a million times before, I'm really weird. I hang out a lot by myself these days, so I have a lot of time to be really weird. (i.e. singing in random voices, impersonating singers, spontaneous interpretive dancing to a song, talking to myself, laughing to myself, then trying to make my laugh more feminine sounding, making weird faces in the mirror, modeling in front of the mirror, etc.) That's just by-myself-weirdness/narcissism. I have around-people-weirdness too, but it's a little more mild.

Sometimes I'll be doing a weird thing, and I'll think to myself, "Wow, would you ever do this in front of another human being?"

And I hope one day that I can. I hope one day someone will like that I'm weird. Actually, I hope he will love that I'm weird. I'm still waiting on that though.

politics

I feel like I've had a pretty balanced exposure to politics. My dad is a die-hard conservative. Fox News has been a frequented channel in my house. (I just admitted that online. I know, I know...) BUT I grew up in a liberal state, a very liberal one at that. Any history or current event class throughout my schooling was always shaded blue. I didn't really care because I think it's important to hear and synthesize both sides.

College was the ultimate test of independence and finding out where I stood on each issue. Am I an elephant or a donkey? (I could have substituted another word there. Can I just say that is the worst party mascot ever? Did no one have the foresight to see that would be a bad choice?)

Well, when all is said and done, I am an Independent. At least that's how I registered. I always thought being moderate just meant you were a fence-sitter, but for me it just means I cross party lines with every issue.

I would call myself a fiscal conservative. I believe in safety nets, but I don't believe in hand-outs. I think everyone should pay some kind of tax. (If I hear the phrase 'fair share' one more time, I'm going to pull my hair out.) I believe in working hard and this thing called self-reliance. I favor small government.

BUT being conservative doesn't mean I'm close-minded or uber-traditionalist. I'm a vegetarian; I try to protect the environment; I don't think Planned Parenthood is a society of baby killers; I think stem cell research is wicked awesome; I believe in equality for all ethnicities and sexual orientations; don't even get me started on "Don't ask, don't tell." It's ridiculous. To say it's obsolete would even be incorrect because that would imply that it had some use at one time. And it didn't. (I know it has been repealed, but I've heard things about republicans trying to undo the progress made or something to that effect, which is a waste of time...)

I digress.

Anyway, I think people should think about every issue independently of their affiliated parties. I'm kind of sad that I'll miss the political storm of November 2012 because it seems like it will be an intense one. However, I will be living the devoted life in Canada, which I think will be much more meaningful. :)

what i've learned in 22 years

There exists a black hole.

This black hole collects socks, hair ties, bobby pins, pencils with the erasers still on them, and...

tupperware lids.

Finding a lid that fits on a certain container has been the bane of my college existence and my recent living-at-home existence.

If I find one more mismatched lid/container, I'm going to..................I don't know yet, but probably lash out drastically--at the tupperware.

(P.S. I realize that tupperware is really just a brand name and not the official name for plastic containers. Thus it should be capitalized, but I'm not actually referring necessarily to actual Tupperware. Hence, I'm not going to capitalize it. This is kind of how people use the word kleenex to refer to a any tissue. Props to the brilliant marketing team who brainwashed everyone into thinking they are the same.)

Classy Bonney Lake

[This one goes out to all the skeezies in Bonney Lake.]

Dear men that make me feel awkward,

If you try to get my attention, and I give you this face:

It means I don't want to send any positive reinforcement--no matter how much you honk or stare.

Thought you ought to know.

Not-So-Warm Regards,

Tanya

fml

I think I had some pent up bad karma against me today.

As I was leaving the gym today, my car died right as I pulled out onto Hwy 410. (This is about 4.5 miles from my house.) I sat there crying for a second; then I called my working mom in a panic and realized the worst thing about having no friends in Bonney Lake: no one can help you when your POS car from high school breaks down.

Fortunately, I was right by a Jiffy Lube, and a worker helped me push my car into the parking lot. (So you should all support your local Jiffy Lube!) Unfortunately I was a sweaty, haggard mess. I don't like asking people for help. At all. If I had been looking really cute, I would have felt slightly less guilty about asking for help. I feel like men would feel a little happier about pushing a car for a cute girl rather than a gross-face. That's just my theory though.

Anyway during this time, I realized that I was in desperate need for an accelerated course in Cars 101. I was steering my car while the worker pushed, and I may have run into a hedge, a curb, and another hedge along the way. "Yeah when your car doesn't work, your power steering and brakes don't work either," the worker said. And with my lack of good looks, I couldn't even play the dumb-but-pretty card that would make this lack of knowledge forgivable.

So we got the car parked. Finally. Then I had to run/walk/limp the whole way home. I had already worked out for the day, so having to add another 4 miles? Death.

Then some skeezy guy was trying to get my attention as I waited at a light. Bleh.

And then while I was running on a road lacking in sidewalk or shoulder, someone yelled at me something to the effect of, "Bitch, get out of the road!"

Wow, thanks.

Some days are just like that, I guess...even in Australia.

restless

Dear future husband and/or cat,

I'm a tosser-turner at night. I don't kick people per se, and I don't hog the bed; I can even share a twin bed comfortably, but I stir a lot in my sleep. I stir so much that my fitted sheets routinely come off the bed. I end up sleeping on a bare mattress most nights because I'm too lazy to redo the fitted sheet everyday. (Putting on a fitted sheet can be quite frustrating with one person.) I imagine with two people, redoing the fitted sheet won't be such a hassle, so maybe this won't be such a problem. However, if you are a cat, you will be of no help, so the bed will probably remain sheet-less.

I hope a disheveled bed isn't too much of a deal breaker. What I lack in bed aesthetics, I make up for in superb spooning skills. Just so you know.

Love,

Tanya

one time...

There is a particular breed of boy in the world. You probably have come across him once or twice. On facebook you can recognize him as the boy who has:

--way too many shirtless pictures

-- a pseudo-modeling profile picture

-- a lot of pictures in close body contact with girls out of his league

-- an obsession with his form of transportation

or any other similar narcissistic behavior...

I went out with one of these boys once. He was a bit too handsy for my taste. (My taste= Don't touch me unless I have given you the proverbial green light. I hate touchy-feely flirters.) After I had had enough invasion of personal space for one night, I had him take me home. He took the long way because he probably thought I longed to have a few more adoring minutes with him.

Needless to say, I didn't see him again.

gotta get down on friday

I have to preface this by saying that ever since I was 13, I babysat for the same family, the Lears. I'm pretty much the world's greatest babysitter in their eyes. It's probably the one thing in life that I can say I was the best at with confidence. Eventually I went to college, but I'm still really close with that family--like they took me on vacation with them once to Washington D.C., and I go to their grandparents' house, and we hang out whenever I'm back in Bonney Lake...typical babysitter-employer relationship stuff. This really has nothing to do with my story except that you know who they are and why I hang out with middle-aged adults.

Anyway, last night I was renting an Xbox game for their four kids and letting them borrow our Xbox. Now that my brother is gone to college, no one is going to touch that thing.

So I'm at Blockbuster, and I was having a little trouble getting my debit card to work, figuring out if I had an active account, etc., which led to me actually having a conversation the the worker because of the waiting. He was very pleasant, considering he had to work a Friday night. He looked at the game I was getting, and said, "You're gonna love this game; it's so good." Blah blah blah. Then I said, "Actually it's for these kids that I'm babysitting." Then he said, "Oh so you're not a gamer then?"

I felt my attractiveness go down a hundred points. "Uh....no?"

Call me vain, but sometimes I like being liked by everybody--even the gamers.

feminine

I hate shaving my legs. I think I've said that before.

The great thing about going to Canada is that I will be wearing multiple layers of tights/leggings/thermals every day. And do you know what that means???

I don't have to shave my legs for 18 months!!!!!!

I know you all are sufficiently grossed out now, but let me point out that society has made you that way. (And you thought you were a free thinker...) Who decided that being hairless was feminine? I would really like to go back in time and dispose of that person; however, we all know that didn't work for Katherine Heigl in that one Twilight Zone episode with baby Hitler...

I'm too lazy to start a social revolution, so I will remain being the awkward girl with hairy legs all by myself. BUT--

To all the males who may court me in the future:

If you notice that my legs are shaved frequently, know that I'm putting forth my best effort to attract you.

Para que sepan.

A word about cats...

I posted on facebook a quote from a Youtube video saying, "I love cats. I love every kind of cat." Most people just thought this was a joke, but there was actually a tiny element of truth to it.

I used to be a cat-hater like most people out there. Let's face it. Cats are lazy, unresponsive, non-interactive, disobedient, and selfish. But they are also CRAZY, and that's why I like them.

I was house-sitting a week ago with a dog and a cat. When it got really late, the cat would run around and jump over things like it was the cat Olympics or something.

I think I like cats because they remind me of myself. They are pretty mellow most of the time, but they have this inexplicable feisty side. In cats, this is very entertaining when you are by yourself.

So I made the decision that I will definitely be a spinster with a cat (and a dog) someday. Can't wait.

Lately

Happy September 11th!! Oh wait...

I couldn't resist that joke because everyone was such a downer on facebook. If you didn't know, sometimes I have inappropriate responses to things.

-One time I laughed when a drunk person broke down crying about her life. (Even the non-sober people knew this was out of line.)

- I generally laugh when people get physically hurt.

- I giggled through a breast examination.

- And I cried during an animated movie.

So I have some mis-wirings. I don't thing September 11th is at all funny, but sometimes I joke about serious things. That's all.

I know you think I hate the troops now, but that's not true. I love our military. I love our country. I love democracy. I love freedom. I love our constitution. I don't love war, but I respect that people are willing to risk their lives while defending the BEST COUNTRY IN THE WORLD!!! (How's that for nationalist?)

I've said this before, but I don't think our country is flawless by any means. I believe in change, but I also believe in a lot of the core values this country was founded on. Basically, I believe in striving to be our best. That's why we vote!

Why I hope I don't end up alone

If you were worried about my last blog post, don't worry! I'm alive!

I have been house-sitting with a dog and cat for the weekend. I feel like a super adult because I like to pretend that it's just me living permanently in this grown-up house. I like cleaning (what?) because every mess is mine, so I don't feel like it's a pointless endeavor.

Anyway, I feel like I have definitely gotten a glimpse at what life would be like if I was an older, single woman. This is what Sex and the City doesn't tell you. It's kind of boring living by yourself especially if you don't have 3 other single friends and a Mr. Big or some other romantic encounter to rendezvous with. I bet you they just cut out the scenes of Carrie playing Scrabble by herself or hitting up Netflix or reading everything she gets her hands on or incessantly obsessing over sudoku puzzles...because that doesn't make for a very interesting show.

Case in point: After being by myself for a night, I started talking to myself or attempting conversations with the cat. Except the conversations with the cat are involuntarily in a baby voice. I don't know why.

I'm not ashamed to say that I really want a family some day--if anything, for my mental health. I don't think that makes me anti-feminist. I definitely believe you can (and should) be happy and single, but I'll be the first to admit that relationships are a lot more enriching.

I guess the point of this post is to say, that I do enjoy being in solitude sometimes, but I would rather have it be spaced out between long periods of being with other people (or person) that I love.

That's all.

my dying breath

Dear Blog Readers,

I am probably going to die tomorrow. And my last piece of advice would be this:

Don't make muffins from a really old muffin mix!

Did I do this? Yes. Did I know how old it was? No. But did I know that it was probably ridiculously old--like something my grandma would have in her house? Yes. Did I make them anyway? Yes. Did they taste really weird? Yes. Did I eat three anyway in hopes that each one was a fluke? Yes. Do I have a problem? Yes. Does my stomach look like this now--> ":( "? Yes. Am I worried for my life? Yes.

So if the muffins reek further havoc upon my body, and I don't wake up in the morning. Please know, that from my mom to the random stalkers, I love you all.

I'm all talk

I have come to the conclusion that I am a true Northwesterner and just don't like extreme temperatures either way. When I visited Utah a couple weeks ago, I thought I was going to die when it was in the 90's. I would say to myself, "I am soooooo ready for Canada cold weather. Bring it on!"

And here I am fah-reezing, and it's 58 degrees.

Dear Tanya,

You don't even know. You are going to be so cold that your bones are going to hurt. You'll probably cry a lot. That is, if your tears don't freeze first. See you in two months!

Love, Canada

I am a stereotype sometimes

Nothing pumps you up for a mission like SHOPPING!!!!

It's actually fun to have to buy things that are nice and pretty. (And it's nice when someone else who is not affected by the economy helps to front the bill--and by "helps," I mean takes the whole cake. Thanks Mom and Dad! I'm sure it doesn't seem like cake to you, but I assure you that I will give you the best care when you are old and drooly and in diapers. Plus, I just let you have all of those Visa miles.)

I realized that my indecisive nature was cured when I wasn't the one paying. Basically, I asked myself, "Do I like this?" If the answer was anywhere from 'I guess.' to 'YES!,' it was in the bag.

Okay, I'm being exaggerative. I actually really love all the things I got. Life is too short to not look fabulous. (I fear I'm starting to sound like Carrie Bradshaw...)

Anyway, I am long overdue for another closet purge.

DISCLAIMER: I know I sound like I should be friends with Paris Hilton or some other queen of entitlement, but I actually felt a little bit of my adulthood die on this shopping trip. In reality I am an extremely frugal person--almost to the point of it being embarrassing or pathetic. In four years of college, I only went to the mall twice, and bought something once. I can talk myself out of buying anything. So that's the real me. The rest is just my creative license.

brag session

So....I should let you know that I'm kind of a big deal when it comes to Scrabble. It's the best game ever.

And I have never lost a game in my life.

Now that I have said that, I will probably lose the next game I play. Thank you, Murphy's Law. But seriously, I have to play against myself with 3 personalities if I want to be beat. Depending on where your score lies, the Scrabble box will give you a range on where you fall in skill level. I am on expert, of course.

I was feeling really good about my skills until I saw that the highest game score ever was 830. Uh...expert level is around high 200's. Who is this mind freak? And how is that score even possible??

I MUST KNOW.

for the futura

Note to self: Don't buy bulk-sized shampoo/conditioner! (You can use this as a note to yourself too.)

If I have learned anything in 22 years, it is that I have shampoo ADD. (For brevity's sake, I will only write shampoo, but I will always mean shampoo and conditioner.) I've heard that changing your shampoo more than occasionally and less than frequently (can't think of the precise word, and I'm too lazy to thesaurus that sh--) is actually good for your hair.

...5 minutes later...

Okay, I actually did thesaurus it, and I still couldn't find the right word. I'm tentatively resting on the word 'consistently'... basically, on a 1-2 month schedule. (I actually made up that time frame, so don't take my word for it.)

To simplify all this rambling: Changing your shampoo=good.

Back to the point. With this semi-reliable knowledge, I've decided that there must be an evolutionary basis for my condition. Mother Nature wants me to have really great hair.

Okay, that wasn't even the point. The point is that I have shampoo ADD (and judging by this post, maybe real ADD too...) The other point is that I really love showers--for many reasons--but mostly for the shampoo. I actually get really excited inside when I have to shower at a friend's house because NEW SHAMPOO!! Sometimes though, the friend happens to have the same shampoo as me, and it is the biggest. letdown. of. the. world.

(This post is turning out longer than I thought it would be.)

The real, REAL point of all that background and medical/psychological history is to say this: I bought the Costco* brand shampoo two years ago. I realized it didn't smell that great (and by not that great, I mean kind of like vomit.) But it was vegan and eco-animal-friendly and all-natural and gluten-free. (?? Is someone planning on eating the shampoo?) So I suffered through it, but it lasted FOR-E-VER. Sometimes I would buy other brands to give me a break, but I always had to go back to the horribly, guilt-free, bulk-sized shampoo. I tried to be wasteful with it. I used it for body wash and shaving cream. And let's face it, sometimes I even just poured it down the drain little bits at a time, but I still left behind a half-empty (or half-full...) bottle of shampoo in my old apartment.

Coming home meant new shampoo (!), so the first day I skipped into the bathroom, dropped my little towel, drew back the curtain, and to my horror--not a serial killer, worse--

sitting on the edge of the tub was that god-forsaken Costco brand shampoo.

(Noooooooooooooooooooooo!!!!)

I have had no will to shower for the past two months. I do it of course, out of necessity, but never delight. It's noon, and I'm sitting here on the computer dreading the responsibility of showering because if I have to use that shampoo one more time, I'm going to kill myself.**

Shampoo is a weird word. It was kind of annoying to write it so many times.

*Dear Costco, please don't sue me for libel. I love your products--just not your shampoo because I've been using it far too long, and it is void of fragrance.

**This is NOT a cry for help. Please look up the word 'hyperbole' in the dictionary to understand my rhetoric.

notes on delight

First: The most wonderful, beautiful feeling in the universe is--well, love--BUT, the second most wonderful, beautiful feeling in the universe is when your eyes--that have suffered through two months on the same pair of contacts (that are supposed to last only two weeks)--are harmoniously joined with a pair of fresh. new. contacts. straight from the package. (Cue: Angelic choir sound effect.) Sheer divinity, I tell you. I believe that in heaven everyone will receive a fresh new pair of contacts every day (because you have unlimited supply, duh). If this is not the case, I might reconsider going.

a question

This might sound judgmental or insensitive, but I don't mean it to be.

I know there's no wrong way to make a family, blah blah blah, but I was thinking about in vitro fertilization, and although it is a great technology, why do it?

I understand if you are a millionaire, then throwing down 10,000 bones is not really a financial stress, but many couples choose in vitro when it is a financial stress. I guess my real question is this: Why do in vitro when it is financially stressful and not 100% guaranteed when you could adopt for less and getting a kid out of it is 100% guaranteed?

Seattle, Seattle

I just love this city.

Lauren, Roxanne, Ricky, and I took the bus up to Seattle yesterday. (We are eco-friendly citizens! ...or we just don't like parking.) Here are some highlights:

--We dubbed ourselves after Sex and the City characters. Of course, I got stuck with Miranda, the serious friend.

--Pike Place, of course. We were looking at jewelry from one vendor, and the conversation went something like this: [With Asian accent] Vendor (to Ricky): You are lucky man! You have three beautiful lady! You buy for all of them!

Ricky: Um...no...

Vendor: Yes, you lucky man. You must come from Utah!

Oh how wrong this man was on so many levels. First, we are all poor college students, so no one is buying anything for anyone. Second, I am Mormon, and we most definitely do not have three wives. Wrong church. Third, Ricky is gay. So having "three beautiful lady" is not that lucky.

--We found a divine Indian lunch buffet called Kastoori? It was just a hole-in-the-wall kind of place, but it was so good! And with unlimited naan bread? Don't mind if I do!

--Window shopping. We walked through Nordstrom and ogled over all the beautiful shoes we couldn't afford. The salespeople didn't give us the time of day probably because we were in flip-flops. We went to The Rack instead. (I realized though that clothes and shoes are nice, but they really aren't everything. I mean, $700 for Manolo Blahniks? Send me to Spain instead!)

--We found another restaurant/cafe to get cocktails at. I, being the non-alcohol friend, drank my weight in water because it was so hot outside.

--Losing track of time, realizing we had 20 minutes to catch the last train out of Seattle, and running with a full bladder across the city with three other tipsies= not such a good idea. While I was running, some guy gave me a flyer to join a gym. I guess my stride needs a little work.

--Running through a mass of hobos. I've never felt so guilty or paranoid for owning a purse before.

--On the train back, we met a man named John, who in a nutshell was probably just lonely and had a crush on Ricky. Poor guy. I'm glad we could keep him company. He has six books that he is going to publish one day, so watch out New York Times bestsellers!

All in all, it was just another day in the Seattle life.

.

One thing I like about being home is that I see more children around. In Provo, there seems to be one age group: 18-25 (give or take). Yes, of course I've had people bring babies to class, but for the most part I hadn't interacted with children for a long time.

Did I ever mention that I work for a clown? Because I do. And it's awesome. I am a balloon artist and a burgeoning face painter to boot. We are slowly removing the stigma that Stephen King put on clowns years ago with his novel/movie It. (Why does it seem that every young adult was accidentally subject to that movie as a child?)

Well, this job allows me to talk to little kids again, and I forgot what a special experience that can be. They aren't worried about the debt ceiling or the stock market or social security. They still dream big and are impressed by a sword balloon. The other day I was making balloons for two 13 year-olds, and I was relieved to hear that they weren't too old to like Justin Bieber.

Being exposed to so many kids has made me so much more sensitive to the known and unknown issues in their lives. I'm not a social worker or therapist by any means, but I can pick up on things kids say that indicate things may not be going so well at home. Sometimes you can just see it. And all I can really do about it is make a balloon or talk about Power Rangers with them.

Then I find myself praying. Praying that they can always have that optimism that they have now. Praying that they can always feel loved and accepted. And praying that the world gets a little kinder, a little simpler, and a little better.

Shout out to the madre

I just have to say that every time I come home, my mom still remembers what clothes to not put in the dryer. (I'm really paranoid about my clothes shrinking, so I have very particular guidelines on what can and can't be dried.)

I kind of feel bad for a day in 4th grade when I came home from school in a huff because she sent me a peanut butter and jelly sandwich instead of my usual demand for just peanut butter.

That was the only day in school history where she mixed it up. Sorry for the hostility, Mom.

I didn't forget

My mom always gets on my case when I stop blogging because all of my 18 fans are waiting, you know. I tell her that I don't have anything interesting to write about, but then she gets offended because that's like saying life at home is boring. Well Mom, the truth hurts.

Just kidding. Life at home is not the worst, but life without a job kind of is. Of course a week after I left Provo, I had two job opportunities if I had stayed. Thank you, Great Timing of the Universe. I'm still optimistic though.

You really don't realize a good thing when you have it. I'm a Northwestern at heart, but I love Provo.

If Bonney Lake is the place I grew up in, Provo is the place I grew deep in. It's the place where I cried and laughed harder than ever before. It's the place where I met some of my truest friends. It's the place where I learned, where I succeeded, where I failed, where I made stupid decisions, and where I made some of my wisest. It's the place that filled me with inspiration. It's the place where I was alone and where I was supported. It's the place that challenged me and changed me. It's the place where I fell in love and where my heart was broken. It's the place where I accepted myself and became happy with the road I was on.

Provo, you are not only a city, but an experience. And you are one of the dearest experiences of my life. Thank you. I'll see you soon.

and there it was.

I just knew it would be there--the envelope for which I had been so patiently waiting. Some people wait to open it in front of a crowd of friends and family, and everyone cheers when it is unveiled, but, you see, that is just not my style. I opened it alone, so that I could, well, be alone with something so life-changing before me.

Anyway, enough melodrama. For the next 18 months I will be teaching the gospel of Jesus Christ in the Canada, Edmonton mission.

(!!!!!!)

You might be thinking: What?!

I know it's not exotic or glamorous, but to expect it to be those things is missing the point. The more that I say Edmonton in my mind, the more it feels incredibly right to be there.

I'm so excited! Now I just have to wait until October 26th to actually leave, but this will give me time to gain 50lbs of insulation, so that I don't freeze to death up there.

"Oh Canada!..."

lost in translocation

Dear Tofu,

Why do you taste different when I make you in Washington than when I make you in Utah. Is it the altitude, the moisture? That doesn't make sense though. Please give me a reason. I used to love you. Now I only like you as a friend.

Sincerely,

It's not me; it's you.

just for you

Blog friends (following and non-following),

You get to be the first to know that my mission call is in the mail as we speak (or type...or I guess I'm typing; you're reading.). Meh, semantics.

In any case... !!!!!!!!!!! It's for real! Somewhere in the intricate mail system is a large, white envelope with my name on it containing my fate for the next 18 months. In the grand scheme of things, it really doesn't matter where I'm going as it does the message I'm going to be sharing with people, which is that Jesus Christ is the Savior of the world, and by following Him, we can find the greatest peace and happiness in our lives.

I'm truly, truly excited for this time in my life. And as much as I hate to admit it, I'm happy how certain things didn't work out, so that this thing could work out.

Here's to hoping for Thursday!

atrevido

My mom and I were driving home, and we saw a man with a cane who was hitchhiking. Of course, my mom--being the 60's child that she is--stops to pick him up. "Look, he needs a cane to walk; he's harmless." I, being the sensible child, immediately start to think realistically.

Obviously, that cane could be a weapon. And the next thing we could wake up to is a dark pit in a basement with someone telling us to "rub the lotion on its skin or else it gets the hose again."

Has no one seen Silence of the Lambs?!?

If I learned anything from that film, it is to not help people struggling with perceived handicaps or injuries because they are really just trying to make a human suit out of your skin.

Okay, okay. He was actually a harmless, somewhat incoherent, old man. Mom: 1; Tanya: 0. We took him to Safeway, and he said we could come get vegetables anytime from his garden. I'm not sure if said garden exists, but either way, we did our daily good turn...or I guess my mom did anyway.

I wish society didn't make me so skeptical.

Moral of the story: Have a little faith. Pick up a hitchhiker.*

*I am not liable for any death or injury that may result from such action.

false alarm

I think I was just getting my hopes up about the large, white envelope coming this week. Logically, I knew it was impossible. But next week....

NO EXCUSES.

Or you best believe I be making some phone calls because I've had enough heart pounding for one lifetime, thank you.

maybe maybe

Dear large, white envelope,

Pllllleeeeeease come tomorrow.

Love,

The ever-patient Tanya

i bet you won't get crunk

I take a Turbo Kick class at the gym. It's like kickboxing, except there's a little bit of a hip-hop element to it, so it definitely caters to a female audience. I always have respect for the one guy that shows up though.

Most of the routines are comprised of whatever the Top 40 songs of the day are, and in between different sets of movement, the instructor will encourage everyone to just "shake it out" or "get freaky." Most people just stand there.

In particular, Ciara's "That's Right" (featuring Lil' Jon) song came on. If you've ever heard Lil' Jon, you would know that raw, freaky quality in all of his songs. Anyway, the instructor wanted everyone to freestyle for the first 15 seconds or so before our kickboxing routine began. When most of us timid people just bounced our heads a bit, she made us do wall sits or push-ups until we would actually let loose.

Did I mention I go to this class with my mom? Yeah, that will shut down any freaky side I possess rrrrrrreal fast. The instructor made it a competition on who could get the freakiest. Guess who won? My mom. Guess who had to demonstrate with the instructor in front of the whole class? My mom.

I had no words after this. No child should be subjected to that kind of sight.

I don't care what the instructors says, I'm not "getting freak-nasty" in front of my mom. I'll take the push-ups thank you.

yeah, this just happened

DISCLAIMER: My parents are actually smart, college-educated people. I'm really hoping this was a fluke.

Scene: The Dinner Table. The conversation turns political, as it is extremely wont to do in the Milburn home.

Tonight's topic: North Korea

Dad: ...and China keeps supporting them [North Korea] down there--

Me (interrupting): Up there.

Dad: What?

Me: You keep saying "down there," but you mean to say "up there."

Dad: No, I mean down there.

Me: Dad, North Korea is connected to the northern part of China.

Mom (chiming in): No that's only Mongolia and Russia up there!

Me: Yeah, and North Korea!

Dad: You're crazy.

Me: I'll show you!

Dad (rather pompously): Go ahead!

And by the power of Google, I give you: North Korea connected to the northern part of China.

Cue: Humbling of the parents--(like a boss!)

Mom (pointing to Thailand area): I always thought North Korea was somewhere in there!

Me: *facepalm*

I just have to say that I was a freaking ninja at Ms. Ross's timed country quizzes in 7th grade social studies. It paid off my friends, oh so sweetly.

weird thing about me #43817

Sometimes I wear men's deodorant. Of course I own women's deodorant too, but most of them smell too floral-y/baby powder-y to the point of being nauseating. When this is combined with sweat, it makes for a horrid outcome: sweaty flowers--naturally. No bueno. So when I know it's a really hot day, or I'm going to work out, I use something a little stronger. (Why do deodorant companies think women don't sweat??)

That's my attempt at justifying this cross-deodorizing.

However. Because men's deodorant is more aromatic than it's female counterpart, sometimes I'll catch a whiff of some divine, manly fragrant. Then I think something irrational like, "I must find whoever just walked into the room because we should reproduce right now based on his scent alone." Or something to that effect... But I soon realize that it's myself that I'm smelling, and I am sorely disappointed for two reasons. 1.) No such male being exists at that moment, and 2.) For a brief moment, I was unintentionally an autosexual.

Yikes. I guess that means I should lay off the Old Spice.

coming out

I am a closet Ally McBeal fan. There I said it. Of course I enjoy quality comedies like 30 Rock or Modern Family or Flight of the Conchords or Psych. Of course I enjoy a good crime drama--complete with the underlying sexual tension of a male and female lead that can never be together.

But.

There will always be something about certain 90's series that I just can't resist (Dawson's Creek, anyone?). Maybe it makes me feel nostalgic. Or it could be an emotional type of masochism in order to worry myself about how old I am and how fast time is moving. I feel like yesterday I was playing "house" with Felicia dressing up and pretending we were women like Ally McBeal. Oh little did we know...

Stop this train.

Independence

Sometimes I lose faith in our legal system after verdicts like today with the Casey Anthony trial. I think it's an appropriate time for:

WTF?

Where do they find these juries?

But I feel like anti-America comments are really unbecoming. I don't agree with everything our country does, but I like to be optimistic that we can change and make things better with enough effort. I'm grateful to be a citizen of this country. I'm grateful that I can vote. I'm grateful that I can be part of a change. I'm grateful that I have rights. Maybe this is a little Pollyanna of me, but America is still a great place to live. Can we do better? Yes. But we're doing better than, say, North Korea. So things aren't as bad as they could be.

peeved

Sometimes honesty is not the best policy.

Paperwork sucks. So does waiting and wasting money.

caught

I thought I was home alone, so I got out my old boombox (remember those things??) to blast some music while I showered. I used to have to use my computer, which isn't nearly as capable as producing the epic loudness as this thing can. Between the stereo and the shower, I couldn't really even hear myself singing, so of course I sang/yelled louder. What other option is there really?

My repeat shower song choice of the day? "I like you so much better when you're naked" by Ida Maria--a Norwegian rocker, so you know how they can be... Nevertheless, I thought it was a fitting song naturally, and it's just so catchy!

So here I am finally getting out of the shower singing/screaming, "I LIKE YOU SO MUCH BETTER WHEN YOU'RE--"(open the door)--"oh hi, Mom..." She was coming to put an end to my 9 minute encore because by then I was just wasting water.

Cue: Walk of Shame to my room.

But if I learned anything from high school English, the naked thing is really just a metaphor...

please come soon

I'm never good with waiting. Never. I think it's just my generation in general. This impatience gives me extreme anxiety sometimes when I stop to think about the huge decision I just made contrasted with the limbo I am in while I wait. Whenever I'm stressed out, I have really crazy and/or lucid dreams. Last night I dreamed I was going to Luxembourg and I had to leave the next day and then I kept seeing all these random people I knew and then I needed a ton of things that I couldn't find and I wasn't prepared and then--I woke up with a racing heart.

Sometimes I can be a very indecisive person, so when I actually make decisions with assertiveness (like this one), a part of me freaks out a little--like, did I just do that?? I'm not regretting my decision at all. The sane, logical, temperate side of me is very content and excited about where my life is going. I just have a small freak-out alarm in my brain that goes off unintentionally sometimes.

Here's to hoping times goes fast for the next two weeks!

disillusioned

Does anyone even stay happily married anymore? I feel like I see so many movies or hear so many stories about marriages that just...fade. Sometimes they stay together because divorce is too much of a hassle or sometimes they just call it quits.

Does anyone stay in love forever? Is that too much to hope for in the future?

esperar

It's official! All the paper work is in, and I'm just waiting for the big, white envelope.

For those of you that don't know, I'm serving a mission for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. There's a bit of paper work and appointments that go into it, but that's all done, and everything is submitted.

I don't know where I'm going yet, but that information will be in the big, white envelope. I'm so excited to serve and teach people about God and His son, Jesus Christ. This knowledge has brought so much meaning and happiness in my life. I can't wait to share that with others.

Happy Saturday!

hair

Note to self: Don't assume gender of a child.

I was just an offender of the she's-so-cute-HE-oh-um-yeah... situation. There was this adorable Native American boy who had beautiful hair and a beautiful face. Oh the androgyny! I should have looked down at the power ranger shoes.

Dear Tanya,

In other cultures, boys have thick, long hair too. Why are you so ignorant?

Love,

The Politically Correct World

(To my credit, when I pointed out the child to my co-workers, both of them said, "oh that little girl?" I'm not that crazy.)

? & Tanya

So I'm watching My Best Friend's Wedding, and I just have one request for the universe.

Can I please have a British, gay friend too? Or maybe just a gay friend like Will from Will & Grace? Or maybe just a guy friend?

You know what? How about just a friend here in Bonney Lake?

Provo, I miss you.

tickle-me-pink

I'm extremely ticklish. Even the anticipation of being tickled will make me start to squirm. For some reason, boys really enjoy exploiting this weakness. However, beware that I will turn into a mega-B if you touch me when it's unsolicited. I hate touchy-feely flirters. Maybe I wasn't held enough as a child, I don't know. (But if I like you, I will probably go along with it...double standard, whatever.)

I don't really mind being ticklish one way or another until it gets me into awkward situations like today...

So I'm at the doctor's office for a physical, which includes a breast examination (a glorified fondling, if you ask me...). I'm trying to be calm and "professional" about everything, but the second the doctor starts going to town, I start giggling uncontrollably because it tickles--and I'm an awkward person. I couldn't even contain myself until it was over.

I'm sure the doctor was just thinking, "what a newb..."

I thought it was fitting

If you haven't been to dearblankpleaseblank.com, you should pay it a visit. Here's one that kind of describes my life...

Dear Heart,

Please stop getting all up in my business. Your job is to pump blood; that's it.

Sincerely, Brain.

dental skool

I think I rant about the dentist every time I go because I just hate it so. Yes, I know I need to floss more. Yes, I know my gums are receding into oblivion, which I'm starting to believe is out of my control. I swear, I brush softer and softer every time...

Anyway, so I'm laying in the chair about to get a filling. For some reason the topic between the dentist and hygienist turns to sunscreen. Here is the conversation (with my brain commentary):

Dentist: Well there's the SPF part. Do you know what that is?

Hygienist: Uhhh...

Me: [Come on, you got this...]

D: I'm sure you know.

H: Uh..doesn't it help with sun burn or something?

Me: [Sun Protection Factor, dude]

D: Yeah, well there's different numbers like 40, 50, 70.

Me: [70? Don't think that's normal...]

D: Do you know what they mean?

H: Not really

Me: [Not really??]

D: It's the time needed to reapply. Like 40, would mean every 40 minutes.

Me: [Uh, that's not remotely true. Try multiplying by 10]

H: Oh, that makes sense.

Me: [No, no it doesn't. I don't know if I want you putting that drill in my mouth now.]

Maybe it's just me, but I worry when people lack in common sense that they are lacking in other areas too... Oh well, I'm still alive.

oreo truffles

[Just imagine a really trendy/creative food photograph.]

So I made these oreo truffles dipped in chocolate. They are divine--like literally come from deity. Okay, not literally.

But seriously, if you are male, you should want to marry me based on this ability alone.

intermission

I've had a great last week in Provo. I'll probably write something longer about it later. I'm just feeling really content with where everything is going right now.

Life is good :)

"I don't care what you think unless it is about me"*

*So true, Mr. Cobain.

Sometimes I mistake politeness for sincerity, and it gets my feelings in trouble.

Why can't people just say what they mean?

Or I can just become like Cal Lightman and be an expert people reader. Then I wouldn't have to deal with this.

wrench

Sometimes you feel so good about a choice, and you think everything will fall into place, and then you check to make sure, and you find out that one choice might jeopardize the other choice. And here you were thinking you could have your cake and eat it too.

Dear Life,

Please please please work out. I'm trying to have a little faith here.

Love, Tanya

bright side

I guess the silver lining about this whole not-having-a-boyfriend-anymore thing is that I don't have to shave my legs so often.

And by "so often," I mean at all.

Summer, meet my beautiful, un-smooth legs.

stuff

So I'm pretty much packed up except for some (read: A freaking lot of) laundry and knick knacks on my desk.

Me? Packed? A whole week early?!! People, this is big for me.

The Good: I found my ear buds, so now I don't have to use my 90's headphones, and I can start running with my ipod again. Magical things happen when you clean your room, I tell you.

The Bad: I accidentally packed up all my clothes. I've been wearing a swim suit all day because I'm too lazy to dig something up out of my suitcase. This might be my wardrobe for the entire week.

love love love

The Trapeze Swinger--Iron & Wine

This is one of the greatest songs ever written. I'm serious. It's so beautiful and nostalgic and bittersweet and sincere.

Samuel Beam, you have my heart.

baggage

I leave to go home June 11th. And I may not be back to Provo for...a little while.

So I have to fit the most essential things into two suitcases, and that is difficult for a pack-rat. Hoarding is a genetic defect in my family. The D.I. better be ready for my closet purge.

darse cuenta

I just realized today that I am really happy. Maybe it's because the sun came out, but I think it was for a deeper reason. I've been trying really hard to have the right perspective since Black Monday (see May 23rd), and while I don't (and may never) have all the answers, I'm able to let go and appreciate what was. And I'm actually really optimistic for the future.

What I learned this past week: God never leaves you all alone.

Healing is a beautiful thing if you let it be.

gender neutral

So here is this article you should read.

If you don't want to read it, the main idea is that these two parents are raising their child without a gender. The baby does not have ambiguous genitalia in any way, but the parents are keeping it secret from other people in order to let the child decide what gender it wants to be.

Something about this seems terribly, terribly wrong.

I'm not one to call myself uber-conservative, but I feel like this parenting choice would even paint some liberals red--not that it's really political, but whatever...

It is evident that the child's parents love him/her, and they want to raise it without gender biases or stereotypes in order to foster independence. A lovely idea, but they just might end up creating gender confusion and alienate the child.

I believe gender is an essential characteristic to who we are as human beings. I'm not advocating that we live 1950's stereotypes. Many strong and favorable personality characteristics can belong to both men and women, and I don't think we should foster this extreme dichotomy between the two sexes in terms of personality and ability. But there is something to be said about knowing your gender and nurturing it into part of who you are. Not to mention, I feel like it's a bad science experiment to see if you can completely nurture a gender while ignoring nature's influence.

And won't this kid find out soon enough when he enters this thing called the world? Only time will tell...

22 the aftermath

Yesterday was actually greater than I thought it would be. I felt an outpouring of love from friends, family, strangers (that give me rides home--only in Provo), and especially God.

And I had a quiet feeling that everything is going to be okay even if it hurts for awhile. That was probably the best present.

I don't know what I'm doing, but here's to the first step of moving on--wherever that may be.

22

Today is my 22nd birthday. And I'm starting at rock bottom.

As you may have inferred from the girly-giddy posts a month ago, the blogging hiatus, and then yesterday, I was with an extraordinary person who ended up not thinking the same about me. It started fast, I gave my heart quickly, and then I was yanked out of my dreamy existence. Time is a really funny thing that cannot always be taken at face value. A lot of time does not always mean a lot, and a little time does not always mean a little. I say this because some of you may roll your eyes at the length of this relationship. It seems short, but it was a very special and personal time for me. That's the only way I can put it.

Before this, I had never had my heart broken. I had gotten rejected, but that's different. I like someone; he doesn't feel the same way; it sucks; I move on. (Remember my phases?) I learned now that this is more of an ego bruise than anything else. Rejection made me just want to eat junk food or run or listen to music or do anything to make me feel better, but with heartbreak there is no physical thing in the world that you can think of to make you feel better. I didn't want to sleep or eat or talk or anything... I just wanted to wake up from this obvious bad dream.

And one of the worst things in the world is looking at someone who once thought the world of you and having them look at you like you were a lamp.

Well the only thing about starting so low on my birthday is that it can only go up, right?

Happy Birthday to me.

one day i won't regret this

over. done. finished. gone.

All these words have a definite boundary and ending point. I think those words only work for the people on that side. The side that does all the talking. The side that has been planning this. The side holding the gun. The side that's sorry, but can't fix it. The side that isn't desperately hoping this is all a dream or parallel universe. The people on that side say these words, and it's over for them. They wake up the next morning and move on without the heavy burden of a broken, broken heart.

The people on the other side don't have the luxury of this clean breakaway. They are left alone, shocked into numbness and insomnia--trying to dam up their feelings until it causes them to shake and cry on the floor as they try to drown out the big gaping Why? that's pounding in their brains. And then there is that overwhelming responsibility of a million heart pieces that need to be put back together.

I was never very good with puzzles.