I'm that bum who always starts new blogs, but because I will have a husband in 30 days, I figure it's validated.

127dreams.wordpress.com 

Cranes and water bombs

It's 11:54. I'm sitting at an outdated computer, pondering life and love and blogs and kittens. Also cupcakes. Because I love a good cupcake.

In an hour, I know I'm going to lay down and not sleep. I'll stare at the wave-like lines on the ceiling, play with my new camera a little bit, and think about objectivism. There must be a connection between my eyes being heavy and my heart being unsettled, because I know I won't be dreaming for a while.

Somebody, tell me I'm good. Tell me I'm making the right choices. Tell me I'll succeed in life. Tell me that all of the tiny worries in my heart that have mushed into a giant glob will not come up my throat into my brain. Tell me I'm rational.

When I was seven years old, I checked out a book from the library on origami. Many hours and a ream of paper went into that book, but I was simply too clumsy to make the intricate folds. When hands couldn't grasp tiny corners and fold them into other tiny corners. I cried to my parents that day. I told them that I was stupid and that nobody in my class would like me if I couldn't fold a water bomb. They patted me on the back, no more, no less, and told me I could keep trying or I could give up.

Eventually, I made many a water bomb.

Sometimes, I feel seven years old again. I can't make the corners of my life fold into a perfect shape. It frustrates me. I see the other kids doing it. Heck, they've moved onto cranes now.

I'm not going to create a huge list of resolutions I can't meet. Instead, I want to do ten things this year that will smooth the creases of my life, eventually making something beautiful.

10. Create a book list and finish it by the end of the year
9. Sleep regularly
8. Follow a budget
7. Find balance
6. Eat green things
5. Compliment myself
4. Ask more questions
3. Speak up
2. Go through the temple
1. Prepared to be sealed for time and all eternity

Yes, that right there is the key to happiness.

Oh yes. If I had a #11, it would be to make more lists.

Of late...

I am Allee.

Writer.

Tweeter.

Dreamer.

Sleeper.

Hugger.

At 19 years and 364 days old, I became a fiancé. 

There are stories to tell and stories to make, but for now I only have three words.

Bring it on. 

Turning my cheek

"Do you ever feel you've become the worst version of yourself? That a Pandora's box of all the secret, hateful parts your arrogance, your spite your condescension has sprung open?" -You've Got Mail

I like to think I have a semi-reasonable personality.

I worked hard the past year to be temperate. To let the little things slide. To not let other people's stupid comments get to me.

And they don't. Well, at least until today.

Because today I sat by somebody I loathed, somebody that has earned every spiteful feeling I want to throw at them. Somebody that makes me feel like kicking puppies and punching holes in the wall. I felt like standing on my chair and screaming "Scuuummmm of the earthhhhh!", but instead I sat in that ugly brown chair, biting my cheek, trying to keep every mean thought to myself.

The ironic part is that this person didn't even hurt me.

It turns out that when I care about somebody more than I care about myself,  people can chuck stones and and scream profanities in MY face, and I'll  shirk it off without a second thought...but touch  somebody I care about and I'll go all Cruella De Ville on you.

It's not my right to be angry, I know. I've always held the theory that being angry doesn't do any good, it just makes for a miserable person.

I know about turning the other cheek, letting it go and not letting it be my problem.

Despite that, I'm going to have a really sore mouth the next few weeks from clamping it shut.

Kthxbye, I'm off to punch some stuffed animals.

Too...many...ellipsis

So hey. It's that one girl. Who apparently doesn't blog much. Because she runs around like a chicken with her head cut off.


It's hard to type without a head.


The first three weeks of school went something like this:
wakkkkeuuu...noeating...classclass...newspaper...class...workalittle...newspaper...class...noeating...study...eatacracker...sleepforaminutes....wakkkkeeuuu....


Observe carefully and you'll notice I never quite woke up in the first month of school. I usually just took naps from 2-7 am.


But alas, my life has calmed to the point that I can breath and write, pretty much the only two things needed for my survival. I say pretty much because eating and hugs are nice on occasion. No worries mom. I'm now sleeping 7 hours a night, eating too many chicken salad sandwiches and trying to make time for a run (keyword: trying).


I could ramble on and on about love and newspapers (if you're ever stuck in an airport for a 6 hour layover and you say to yourself , "I'd really like to hear about newspapers, and also about falling in love" than give me a call. I'm your woman), but really I just want to say three things I've learned this month:


1. Inspiration comes in jolts. Catch it while you have it. Catch it and WRITE it down, I should say.


Soooo... I'm in a social media class. (DISCLAIMER: For anybody who has been on my Facebook page and followed the links to my professional blog, I'm sorry. It's professionally boring. We have to post those links to get a grade. I mean...you can read about traditional views if you want, but I wouldn't want to. I promise, I'm not spamming your FB wall like Alan Ralsky for nothing). 


Jo Packham and Loralee Choate came to our class the other day as guest speakers. Jo is the editor of Where Woman Create AND Where Woman Cook and Loralee is more-or-less her social media person. 


While all of the boys in the class were on their Macbooks tweeting about how they'd rather be snowboarding, I was seriously captured. They sell magazines for $16! Each! I got the best business lesson of my life. EVERYTHING is sellable if you know your market. These woman are genius. And entertaining. Also, fashionable. I'm a little jealous. 


100% of the world has inspiring thoughts, but only 1% develop those thoughts. 


2. You know how I thought I could cook? I can't. 


Ok, ok. So I didn't cook all summer because I pretty much mooched off of apartment #2. After starting school I was like, "Ya! I'm going to cook food that does not taste like a moldy tennis shoe!". 


Seven attempts later, my boyfriend and/or roommates have cordially uninvited me to ever cook food for them again (Yeah...not really, but I'm sure the invite is in the mail). I ruined PASTA for goodness sake. 


3. I need to learn to small talk


If you've ever sat at a table with me and I'm staring intently at a fleck of dust in the air, I really do want to say something to you. Chances are I tried to think of something smart to say, but in the process realized I wasn't saying anything and then I forgot my name. By the time I remembered it, dinner was over and I realized you may have thought I was a mute. Or a dust scientist. 


Maybe everybody else in the world knows how to make conversation but me. I may be bound to awkwardness for all of my days. 


Or maybe I'm just Allee...


Or maybe it's the same thing...


Maybe I should be ok with me...

Totally random way to end a post: I miss this girl. A lot. And yes. That's Bear Lake at midnight. 

not-an-epiphany

They say it ain't over 'til the fat lady sings.
If that's true, a 450 pound woman just sang me an opera.

 I've always loved Esther. Every time I read her story, I learn something new about being.
A woman of faith.
A light to her people.
The preservation of what would become a small babe wrapped in a manger that would save the world.
Being the wife of King Ahasuerus would be no small feat. It layman's terms, she did what she needed to do. Seriously. I would not want to be married to a guy that "deposed" of his last wife. No way Jose.

That's a strong woman. A woman that let God mold her. She saw the bigger picture.

 I don't know exactly who I want to be. If I did, there would be little point to living. All I know is that there are hands in my life, creating and pushing and teaching me to be.

Being is harder than it sounds. It's easy to float along a river of ease, avoiding rapids and rocks. It's the easiest thing in the world to sit in the warmth of covers and sleep through life. It's easy to go to school everyday and sit like a deadbeat in classes, only to leave an hour later with nothing learned. It's easy to avoid feeling hard things.

I'm a mover. I'm not good at sitting in one place for long. Plus, as soon as I get comfortable I tend to get kicked in the butt. Or tasered. Just depends on the week.

 In my rushed life, I think I occasionally forget to sit still long enough to let my heart open. To belly laugh. To hug. To cry until I'm out of tears. It's in those moments that I see myself with real potential, not just a fleck of dust floating haphazardly waiting to land on Skippy the dog.

Basically, this overdrawn and nonsensical post means this:

I'm glad I can constantly be growing. And not like the mold sitting in that old tuna in the fridge. As my heart is tried, I feel myself going places that I never thought I could reach. Exponential growth, I think they call it.

I know you're probably sick of reading about my gratitude, because it doesn't make for the most exciting post. But seriously.
I have it all.
The world is in my hands.
[Insert evil laugh here]

Being, moving, creating.

I saw this posted on Jordan Hunt's blog today and it really got the wheels in my mind turning. 

I need some more goals...

and not just goals that involve eating tacos (I really like tacos, ok?)

I want to start a year long project. Something journalistic. Something revealing. Something that will push my limits.

Any ideas?