up up down down left right B A start

Sometimes i feel like my life is a video game--things seem to be at the mercy of snotty nosed teenager that is too busy trying to get my avatar to jump over magical rainbows to snatch lofty gold coins that might add up to a free life than actually get me to the next level of the game--one step forward and two steps back. (Maybe I shouldn't have said a snotty-nosed teenager--i doubt God would like being compared to such a creature...)
"hot dogs can last up to 20 years in landfills"
(and obviously i meant 'expiration'...)

I have been working on a number of blog posts over the past few weeks with amazing titles like: 50lbs, 10 miles & 20 flights of stairs (what it was like moving every 1-6 weeks in Manhattan), Dress Pants or was it Dress & Pants? (my response to 'wear pants to church day' and correct misunderstandings of my post about the subject), 6 ways to eat 6 hotdogs in 6 days (cleaning out my fridge in new york made me eat worse than when i was in college), Pin This! (how Pintrest got me a job offer, even though my personal account only has zero followers),  and last but not least--Diplomas, Old People Jobs & Shoebox Living (how 2013 is going to be my year with a move to NYC to live in my own studio and go to a big person job with benefits and everything).

But alas none of those have graced the blogsphere.

Three weeks ago i was sure this was going to be my year. My NYC boss sat me down the day before i left and offered me a full time job because she liked how i handled the business's Pintrest account and she found me very resilient from all my bouncing around the city. Needless to say she was impressed with me. The next week i was back in Utah and successfully cleaning out my closet and getting ready to move. The New Year came and i made one resolution: to spend the 12 months of the year getting back into prime shape so that i can be 125 while i'm 25. Things were looking good, i was going to look good and my career/living were looking good.

Then three weeks went by without the boss calling me to give me the official offer,
       weeks thinking i was moving next month so most of my things stayed in boxes,
              with my boxes staying the photo lab that is detached from my brother's house where i am squatting...
reunited after 4 months.

Now fast-forward to this past Wednesday.

Milo loves that i live with levi because, well, Milo and i love the same thing: sleep (i have always been that weird kid that gets 8-10 hours of sleep every single night). We went to bed around 10 but then at midnight, after a series of attempts by Milo to wake me up, i took him out to pee. In my delirious state i let him out, talked to levi for a minute, and then went back to bed. Levi then yells up at me "You need to come outside right now." To someone who loves sleep as much as me this was one of the worst sentences.

Turns out the next sentence was going to be even more awful...

"The photo lab is full of water, you need to come out now!"

This, is of course, the same photo lab where i have been storing a majority of my belongings in anticipation of moving 3,000 miles. I put on some shoes and a sweatshirt and ran out of the house to fish out my boxes of belonging. The night was abnormally warm, turns out the teens feel like 40 when it has been in the negatives, and all i saw was water cascading from the lab over the driveway--I failed to notice sheets of ice that lined the driveway under the newly formed puddles. As i deliriously ran towards the open door of the lab i hit a sheet of ice and instantly was on the ground wallowing in inches of ice cold water. Spinning like a turtle i turned my body towards the door and kept going.

Within a matter of minutes levi and i were wet from mid calf down and were tossing boxes to each other from my side of the lab. Soon the garage was filled with every towel from the house sprawled out along the floor with the contents of my boxes strewn on them. For the most part all the boxes that were sitting in 5 inches of water contained books which swelled so much that it was impossible to pull the books from the box and instead we had to rip and cut the boxes apart. When levi had first gone into the lab he had fumbled to turn on the lights (they were behind my boxes with a space for your arm to fit which wasn't so hard to do when water wasn't pouring out the door...) and knocked a few things down in the process but at least he was able to grab the top box which was full of the only full set of magazines that my dad was in.

all my friends are dead
For the next few hours we ripped boxes apart, moved stacks of boxes from the lab to the garage, found all spare towels in the house, changed our icy socks and shoes, washed a load of clothes from a suitcase that filled with water, and levi put the wet/dry vac to work. By 4am both of us were thoroughly exhausted.                                    
my dad built this airplane which landed him on
the cover of numerous magazines.
The next morning i was able to asess the damage and start the claim with insurance.

50+ kids books
30+ novels
20 cookbooks
20+ cooking magazines
1 Kate Spade purse
1 vintage suitcase
a few textbooks
a couple antique books
and a dozen irreplaceable books (mostly stuff from my dad) met their demise in a cold watery grave.

Now i sit in levi's family room surrounded by books that are still damp at the core and it turns out that while books possess one of my favorite smells--100 books drying in your family room posses a very terrible smell. This was not the worst thing to happen. Losing 100 books is better than losing a dozen magazines of my dads. Loosing 100 books is better than loosing my camera. Losing 100 books is better than loosing everything from all my boxes in storage. and the list goes on and on.

The thing that does suck is that i was only storing things in the lab because i thought i was moving cross country. Two days after staying up all night rescuing my belongings i finally received an email (not even a phone call) from my nyc boss saying that they have to pull their job offer because it turns out they can't afford to hire me.

i am pretty sure you should check such information before you offer a job.

Now i am almost 25 (this friday!), don't know where i am living (and might have to move in with my mom), am STILL living out of boxes/suitcases for the 6th month in a row, don't know how much of a job i have in utah, and am driving my nephew's car because i can't afford my own. i.am.awesome.

but on the plus side, i finally have the most expensive piece of paper of my life thus far, worth a whopping $32,971.58 (plus books and project cost of course) AND i haven't eaten any hot dogs in three weeks.

point of this story: if i told you i was moving to nyc next month and you could visit anytime because i was getting my own apartment, you might want to rethink your next vacation to visit.

second point of this story: i have been too preoccupied with life to think of something fun to do to celebrate my birthday. At this rate i will probably rent a car since that seems to be the only cool thing that comes with 25. BUT i am still accepting ideas for better options.

is there a skort option?

Bethany Davis Photography 2010
I generally like to keep things light hearted (and apparently self deprecating) on the blog but every once and awhile something comes up that i feel deserves some of my time.

If you are in the west and in a heavily populated Mormon area you may have heard of 'Wear Pants to Church Day' which is coming up this sunday (if you want to read up on the subject--Joanna Brooks wrote an article of the Huffington Post which i find very well written). I am torn with this event. I am a feminist in some regards but i wouldn't say that i am in all regards. I also am not sure how i feel about a protest (even if it is a silent/non-confrontational protest) taking place in church on sunday, but then again, when and where else could it take place to get the effect that it desires?

This past year or so has been really hard in regards to religion. I had a boyfriend who broke up with me for 'not being religious enough,' i was in a ward that at times seemed stifling and judgmental and i realized that i had a lot of issues to get over from weird lessons i had in young women's when i was a teenager. What i realized the last while is that--in many heavily populated mormon areas i feel that many people are living the culture and not the religion. Things that are trivial and not doctrine are pushed to the front and participation and conformity to said cultural ideals are judged heavily, and unfortunately things like loving jesus are harder to find. There is also a severe lack of acknowledgement that things CAN change and it is not a bad thing to question things or push for things you believe in (of course done in appropriate and respectful ways).


If you don't understand what i am talking about think about these situations:



  • This was a popular meme on a facebook group called 'Mormons' and almost 6,000 people thought it was a good idea. I have also heard it to the effect that if girls dress immodestly they might as well be porn. Excuse me? Also, we all know that the 'immodest' part of this statement is regarding anything that is not to the knees or covering the shoulders--they are not just talking about dresses that barely cover the butt and low cut shirts that plunge all the way to the belly button... (Did you also know that the church edited a famous Carl Bloch painting in the Dec. 2011 Ensign to make it fit Mormon ideals of modesty and wingless angels? As an artist i find that incredibly inappropriate especially since the entire article was about someone's religious experience while viewing the original--immodest--painting...)
    Carl Bloch 'The Resurrection' 1873
  • BYU has a honor code that stipulates what the 'appropriate' amount of hair on a males head is. BYU once stated in their paper that 'the majority of all students agree with the code and don't find any problems with it' which of course is a total lie. I have also heard students say that we shouldn't question it because the Board made the Honor Code school policy and demanding a change would be going against church leaders who make up the board. This was put into place in the 70's, times have changed and so should only letting mustaches on campus. They were socially acceptable then but more inappropriate and creepy now. 
  • How many times do you go to church on Fast Sunday, where we can get up and talk about what we believe, and hear people over and over say that they 'love Thomas S. Monson and the latter day apostles' but not one person gets up and says 'i love jesus!'?
  • If you are a girl, how many lessons have you had about how you are a buffer for men because all they want and think about is sex? Has anyone ever said that 'hey, one day you might actually want to have sex and you will enjoy it, it isn't just a guy thing'? What? Never? Yeah, me neither.
    Bethany Davis Photography 2009
  • How many times have you been through hours of church where no one reads from the bible or mentions Jesus but instead only recites parts of talks from the latest issue of the Ensign and talks about things like chastity, modesty, or something you have no idea about and they don't either?
  • If we are a peculiar people and like to be different, why do we celebrate Christmas on the commercial Dec. 25th and not the 6th of April which we believe to be the actual birthday of Christ? (obviously i am not pushing to change that, just an observation. But i am totally open to celebrating both, Christmas twice a year sounds like a good thing...)
  • What about people being so against gay marriage, something that wouldn't even affect a straight Mormon couple? You would think that a people that once settled the west because of religious persecution--much of it surrounding the act of plural marriage that Mormons practiced and believed--would find it in their hearts to let people marry how they want. Or what about supporting civil unions for all consenting adults and leaving marriage up to religious institutions? But more importantly, where do gay people fit in to Mormonism? It is good and all to preach to love and support our family and friends that are gay, but place--if any--do they actually currently have in the church?
Bethany Davis Photography 2009
  • Most bishops will not talk to single girls about going through the temple for the first time until they are at least 25, but if i got engaged tomorrow there would be no contest to me going through in 3 months when i get married. I think the bar is very high while you are single and then drops dramatically when you are not.
  • Have you ever thought about the feminist movement and their issues? The main reasons behind the Wear Pants movement are things like: that women don't have complete say over any organization of the church even the ones 'run' by women like Young Womens or Relief Society, women do not hold any callings in regards to finances, and men are required to be present at all functions that women run or hold like Girls Camp. It is not a ploy to try and get the priesthood, it is about small and simple things that have no reason to not be equal. 
  • Or what about all those crazy facebook groups that popped up about getting coke on BYU's campus because the church finally issued an official statement about how (all types) soda is not against the word of wisdom? Did you ever stop to think, 'wow, if the word of wisdom was written now, soda would most likely be against it because it has no redeeming qualities and people definitely do get addicted' not to mention that there are studies about how coffee can be beneficial. The word of wisdom is great--and i follow it-- but it was written over a hundred years ago, food and drugs are nowhere near what they were then.

Obviously i have a lot of issues to get over and if you are a strong member of the Mormon faith do not think that this post is a public denunciation of the religion, i still am very much a part of it and will be my whole life. I just want to share that I think that it is important to address issues. Just because we as Mormons believe that our leaders have divine revelations from God, they are still men and not everything is divine that happens in the church. I will also stay a part of it because i feel that it is my duty to make others not feel alone if they do not conform culturally  We do not need to judge because someone else sees something differently, especially if it is culturally and not doctrinally. I also feel the need to stay to help encourage much needed change.

Bethany Davis Photography 2011
As we go to church this sunday lets try to remember why we are there. If you are a girl wearing a dress, don't think less of the women wearing pants--it does not mean that their faith is wavering. If you are a girl wearing pants, don't detract from the sacrament and from the real reason of church--renewing your covenants with God and uplifting spirits. Also, do not think the women wearing dresses are weak or ignorant. If you are a man, respect all women regardless of how they are dressed and use the priesthood appropriately to help bless the lives of all people.

Christ loved everyone, especially women and treated them respectfully and trusted them. He did not care if they had been prostitutes--he did not care how they dressed. He did not care if they were mothers or childless. He did not care if they supported their families or stayed at home.

He loved all.

Christ is love.

"damn girl, you be lookin' fine!"


welcome to the blog post that i should entitle: picture texts from dressing rooms/bathrooms that i send to my sisters to get approval/applause. 
(but really it is about the random boys in manhattan that think i am the cat's pajamas and say so with less correct grammer and more enthusiasm)


this one time i went to a franternity ball
My time in the big apple might be pretty rough at times, but i will give it one thing, new york convinced me that i got something going on in the strutting-my-stuff department.

We all know that my dating life leaves something everything to be desired. That is why the Me tab of my blog reads like it does (which you should read and give feedback) and why i have that other blog about dating. It wasn't until i moved to nyc that i realized what my problem has been:

white mormon boys are not into me.

You would think this might get me down--i mean it does in the sense that i still feel little hope for my dating life once i get back to utah since it is both very mormon and very not ethnic--but right now, in this instance, it makes me feel awesome.

I was recently at a mormon party in the upper west side of manhattan where a boy i had never met was chatting with me. He asked which church building i went to and when i replied that i go the Harlem one he looked at me like i'm crazy and don't know the city well.

"why would you go to that one? The lincoln center building and ward are sooo much better!"

"but no one on the lower west side tells me, 'damn girl, you are lookin fine today!' when i am walking to the lincoln building in a dress and heels."

I don't think we are on the same page.

But seriously, when i need a self esteem boost i head to Canal Street or Harlem in some heels, it has yet to disappoint. Also, it is different than the cat calls from construction workers in the west, these guys don't try to get your number (okay i take that back, the guy at Home Depot tried to get me to take him to lunch and offered to come measure my shower for a remodel...) they just want to let you know that they think you are smokin and then they, and you, move on with your day.

I know that i am not a terrible looking human being, but i also realize that you have to work at things more than a little bit to help what the good Lord gave you. We can all remember my post that contained dozens of blackmail-style photographs chronicling my life. I think we can all agree that when i realized that makeup can be a kind friend, that hair is something that should not be cut to mimic a bowl, and there is clothing out there for every body type, i started looking a whole lot better. Though i like to think that i make most of these things work to my advantage, i have still never been one of those girls that boys flock to or tell how pretty they are. But new york, bless it's soul, has done that.

okay, sometimes it is true, sometime
i don't dress cute.
luckily i usually leave it in the dressing room...
I will admit that a lot of it is in the outfit. One day when i wore a hot pink dress with teal high heels i had at least 10 guys on one stretch of Canal Street tell me that i was beautiful and even offer me discounts at their stores. But then again, yesterday a guy said 'hey beautiful' right as i passed and i was covered head to toe in bulky clothing because it was 30 degrees (okay i take that back, i was wearing a coat but it was the leopard print MadMen jacket from Banana Republic...).

The best though, was an encounter that happened right before the hurricane.

The feeling of severeness of the hurricane went from 0-10 in the matter of a couple hours. I had a friend visiting from Utah for the weekend and when we woke up we decided to go running in central park (which of course meant that he ran in the park and i ran to William Greenberg's to buy the best black and white cookies in the city...). There were quite a few people out and it seemed like a normal day. Then i got numerous texts about how the city was shutting down the subway at 7pm in anticipation of the storm. Then my friend got a message from Delta that they canceled his flight for the next day...

Suddenly we were in panic mode.

We hurried back to the apartment, showered, packed up our stuff, jumped on the train and headed to the airport to get him on any flight that would take him out of the city. After we succeeded at getting him on a flight to Atlanta--no where near SLC where he wanted to go--i started trying to figure out what i was going with myself during the storm. I had only a few hours until the subway was shutting down and could either stick out the storm at my friend's house or head out to PA to stay with my sister. I opted to stay in new york but the girl i was staying with said they wouldn't let me in the door unless i had sufficient supplies so i headed to Trader Joe's so grab some water and a little food to add to my current stash.

i bought this coat specifically for nyc
I walked in and the store was relatively dead so naturally i took the chance to use their restroom--which are hard to come by in the city. I stepped out of the bathroom only to find that 100 people had flooded the store in those 3 minutes. Being completely overwhelmed by the craziness i quickly decided that PA was my option.

Now i was left with less time and I had to go back uptown to the apartment i was staying at, collect my things, grab some dinner, and make it to Penn Station downton while trains were still running out of the city. Needless to say i was running around like a man woman, my hair in a loose wet braid, no makeup, and i wearing a stylish outfit of jeans and a raincoat. As i flew down the stairs in one of the subways a boy stopped me. I assumed he needed directions since people everywhere looked confused about the subway shutting down.

"are you Russian?"
the raincoat.
now imagine wet hair and no makeup.

Apparently he didn't need directions. When I said no he quickly asked if i was Polish. I looked rather puzzled and told him that i grew up in the west. Chuckling he said, "ah yeah, i can tell now from your accent, you are definitely American."

Then he continued, "well anyway, you have this great natural beauty (i think that was the polite way to say that i wasn't wearing makeup or fitted clothes) and well, the hurricane has made me realize that life is short. Do you want to grab coffee after the storm passes?"
and sometimes i just wear outfits/accessories that are just
plain cool. right? RIGHT?

That's right ladies and gentlemen, the only date i have been asked out in nyc happened on the subway because someone felt their impending doom because of a looming natural diaster.

Moral of this long tale: he is neither Caucasian or mormon. And in case you are wondering if he followed through on his plan, he did text me during the hurricane and then called me last night to see when we can go out.

Someone find an ethnic boy in utah stat. You have six weeks until i return.

2,480 shake shack burgers


By 9:44 last tuesday night i was wasted. All of my belongings were packed, or gingerly shoved into reusable shopping bags, and i was trying to lighten my moving load by eating the biggest bowl of Golden Grahams with an exorbitant amount of milk. My feet were filthy, my head was throbbing, i was unable to process anymore emotions, and soon i had to lug all my belongings 0.6 miles to the couch i would be inhabiting, on and off, for the next two weeks. Utterly exhausted and eating cereal on the nasty floor should make it clear how i feel about my current situation--it blows.

i took this on the bus a week ago, now just image the rain
as tears on my face and you get the picture.
Last monday i was doing what i seem to do most mondays, ride the bus back from philadelphia to new york (i love new york but i also love that for the first time ever i live within a few hours of my sister and her family). Have you even been that person on a bus crying hysterically to the point where there is no need to hide it because everyone knows that it is you? yeah, me neither, well until monday. 

Part way through my torturious journey, my brother called to talk to me about our taxes. We own a small business together and our last accountant wasn't the best or brightest so levi recently kicked him to the curb and hired a competent one. The only problem with this scenario is that because of things that the old accountant did and advised us to do, we needed to revise our taxes for the last three years. I knew about this and had set aside some money for our favorite holiday, October 15th--the tax extension deadline. Little did we know that my savings would be about $12,000 (just savings, i had some other cash squirreled away in clocks and the like) shy of what just i owed. After one conversation with my brother i went from having enough money to live in nyc for the next few months and buy a decent car to take home, to being completely and utterly broke. All my liquid cash is gone. My grant for my internship is gone. My savings are gone. Now, for the first time ever, i am in debt. 

Do you know what $16,000 can buy?

lets try some different categories of my favorite things:



camera equipment:
-Canon 5D Mark III  $3,199
-Canon 50mm 1.2 L Series lens $1439
-Canon 85mm 1.2 L Series lens $1999
-Canon Speedlight 600EX-RT flash $557
-Profoto Studio Lighting Kit $3280
-Manfrotto Tripod $599
-MacBook Pro with Retina Display $2799
Total: $13,872



Kate Spade:
-purse $498
-dresses $398, $478, $448, $398
-coat $698
-colored jeans (in all six colors obviously) 6x$198
And that was only $4,106, that means there is almost $12000 left for 10 more purses, 12 pairs of shoes, and one more coat. So basically a total kick ass new wardrobe (you know, if i switched out a few purses for things like pants and shirts...)


Cars:

which is a lot newer than the Ford Escape i was planning on buying
or 2,000 bottles of Essie nail polish.
or 1,067 Costco chocolate cakes
or 941 Statue of Liberty cruises
or 2,480 Shake Shack burgers
or probably almost a whole baby on the black market.

or it can pay uncle sam so that he doesn't want you anymore.

After my crying subsided on the bus i transfered to the subway to head to my apartment where my check books lay dorment. Over the next few hours i went to two FedEx locations, printed $107 worth of tax forms--you know, $0.50 seems really reasonable for a b&w print, FedEx, along with your $0.30 a minute computer fee...--ran (literally) 8 blocks to the post office, ran to the drug store for tape, skipped every other stair as I lunged back to the post office, stuffed ten envelopes, wrote six checks, sealed everything nice and tight and said good bye to (most) of my assets. You'd think my night would end there, i mean the clock was abut to toll midnight, but no, since i got kicked out of my apartment i couldn't just go home, i had to then go to my friend's house to get her spare key so that i could move onto her couch the following day. 

saying good-bye to the studio
By the time my golden graham-eating-on-the-floor evening had transpired the following day, i was exhausted, still homeless, and very angry at stupid connie who kicked me out of my sublet. Needless to say i was a bit (am still slightly) a hott mess. But hott mess or not, i still needed to get it together and move all my crap--which has seemed to grow exponentially since i thought i would be in a studio for 4 months. I now hate hangers, food bought at costco, full size sheets, you know, all the finer things in life i like when i don't have to move them around the city in the larger-than-life blue Ikea bags. 
And this is how all my belongings migrated back .6 miles to where they came from only 36 days ago. Back along the same street, past the same cathedral  next to the same homeless man--who when he heard me talking to my sister on the phone about wearing dresses to work said, "God bless you!" (he must think i have nice legs, which obviously is true)--and finally pass the gaggle of rats that inhabit 109th street. When i first did this trip moving to the subleased studio (i walked this part of manhattan 7 times going to and from with my stuff) i walked because i had nothing better to do and i didn't want to draw attention from the co-op with a taxi, this time i was just feeling too poor to hail a cab. But when you have a friend that is willing to drag two bags and you can fit: your camera bag, shoulder bag, larger-than-life ikea bag, and hat on your frame and STILL managed to drag a suitcase that is 4 feet tall with all your food strapped to the back, why not just walk?

and that brings me to the present.

i still have a reeses problem...
but i did mangage to fit all this in that green bag and strap it to my suitcase.
win.
i am currently sleeping on a very comfortable couch in my friends room because she is very kind. But because i have vistors coming to the city i also spend time in sketchy hotels in Brooklyn and a friend's studio in Harlem. But those, those times are for a different post. But i will tell you that they involve christmas hams, trains so loud you can hear them in the shower, fish heads, duvet covers finagled into window sills, oh and Ricky Martin.

**and if this post worries you, don't be. I am not homeless in the sense of being on the street, i just don't have a place to call my own, and i have a thing called a credit card (and a loan from my business) so i am fine. I might not have any spare change for the next year, or a bed to call my own or the next two months, but i think i can survive that.**






carry on carry on carry on

I had a friend that used to always say:

"life sucks and then you die"

I never really thought that was true, but i'm finding more truth in it the longer i live in manhattan...


My last blogpost was written from my office--after i had finally found my way back to my trusted SoHo in a cab--and successfully dried my sweat drenched body. At that point i thought i had braved the worst part of my day, little did I know that i would lug that stupid suitcase to a photo shoot, then haul it in the back of a cab, drag it up and down 34th street--as the MegaBus directed me to line after line, pull it along in downtown Philly and finally load it on a train. All of that was grand but exiting the train caused some fuss and loss of bodily fluid.

When i was at the train i called Jenny, 'um, something is wrong with my foot, i am pretty sure my heal is bleeding into my shoe and i have a growth on my toe...'

sisters, sisters, there were never such devoted sisters.
I was kind to my dear old foot on the train, that is until i almost missed my stop. I frantically jumped up, grabbed my suitcase and with one awkward gesture made it land directly on my toe growth. By the time Jenny picked me up i was hobbling along with my shoe was full of puss.

I went to Philly for a number of reasons:
      get out of NYC for some TLC
      unload extra crap from my apartment since stupid connie isn't letting me stay
      do laundry
      chew on the babies (or snuggle my nieces and nephew)
      babysit nora so jenny could run the Ragnar
      cheer on sarah and jenny on said Ragnar

      oh and photograph jenny and sarah....

yeah, if you couldn't tell, i forgot that one.

I not only lugged a 50lb suitcase to Philly (with only 1/2 of one wheel...) but I also had my camera bag that weighs about a bajillion pounds.

Oh the way to the Ragnar, after getting all three kids, a weeks worth of food, and my camera bag in the car, Mike asked, 'did you grab your camera off the piano?' Well crap, i have a bag full of extra batteries, lens, film, cards and no camera. FAIL.

i took this. i pushed the shutter and THIS came out.
FAIL.
Turns out i am really bad at using a point and shoot camera. All the photos that i took on a borrowed camera were terrible. Like real bad. So this is why everyone has ditched small cameras for the iPhone...

Rough Rough Rough.

Monday i came back to the city, but the weekend had more in store for me. Somewhere amid my countless hours on public transportation, train to bus to subway, i caught the flu. Did i mention that i have a friend who has been staying with me and sharing my bed? Yeah, not so great when you have the flu and sleep for 14 hours straight...

luggage losing wheels, people losing housing, shoes full of puss, only 3.583 friends in the city, and an unpaid internship--new york apparently never got the memo that i love it and it should treat me kindly.


this is what a race looks like when i remember my camera...
On the plus side, i am finally going to see Sleep Walk With Me this weekend and hopefully find that Awesome Brownie that i found my first saturday here. Oh and i found out i get $30 a week from my internship. That makes me like thiiiiiiiis happy, that's like 5 Shake Shack burgers a week! (or a week metro card--which is what i think i am supposed to use it for...)

On days like this, you just got to throw on Fun. and listen to Carry On:

If you're lost and alone
Or you're sinking like a stone
Carry on
May your past be the sound
Of your feet upon the ground
Carry on

Carry on, carry on


Breaking Amish
(this is totally the theme song for that new TLC show about a group of Amish teens that leave the faith and move to Manhattan, if they can do it, I can too, right? Right?! I mean, television never lies or anything, right? RIGHT?!)


oh did i mention that i am still haven't found a place to live for the next two weeks? The only two weeks that i have people flying out to visit me...

I might love nyc this weekend, but right now--at this very moment--i kinda loathe it.

if you would like to send me a package, i would not deny it. Especially if it was this camera to keep in my purse at all times so i never have another epic photography fail. This is a point and shoot i can trust!


what was i thinking?

First of all, a little plea on the blogsphere:

remember that one time when i posted a blog about photos and a girl de-friended me on facebook because she was so offended why what i--mostly sarcastically--wrote?

at least she gave me feedback.

and you don't want to be outshone by that mean girl, so you should give me feedback too with my new little gadget at the end of each post:


she choose to post on my facebook link
 'I just have to say that I read this and I am really disgusted by some of the things you said. I mean, utterly appalled. I'm practically speechless, I am so sickened by this.' 
but I assume she ment to click the box 'offended,' so i did it for her.

anyway, its takes .986 seconds to do, faster than a comment (which only like .2834 of you do) and it makes me feel like people actually read this thing. 


and now for my real post:

What Was I Thinking?

On days like today i sit back and think, 'why did i think it was a good idea to move to Manhattan?' You see, my day started at 7:30 when i checked my email (not a normal thing by the way, i loathe the fact that everyone assumes you should respond to emails within a fraction of the day, if you want to get a hold of me, make it pop up on my phone without having to go look for it...) and found a message from a girl that said i could come look at her apartment before work.  It was amazing I found the email in time, i don't normally get up until 8 or so.

Backstory: 

      You see, this one time i subleased a studio apartment from a girl who owned a studio in Harlem but moved to Utah. We agreed that i would sublease it until the end of the year, well, that is until she called me on Monday, only 3 weeks into me living there, to tell me that her, her husband, and her baby were moving back into said apartment on the 17th. 

      lets just pause for a moment here so you can take it in like i did.

      she is MOVING back into the apartment in 15 days (now 13...). Something she never mentioned to me. Please note that said apartment was for sale and i had to have it show ready every Sunday. Like she had no plan on moving back because she was trying to SELL it. (which by the way, if it had sold while i lived there it would have taken at least a month if not two before i would have to move)

        this girl sucks.

        a lot.

        and i sent one scathing email that might have mentioned that.

Any other day before work would have been fantastic but today i am going to Philly after work so now a HUGE 50lb suitcase is involved--i need to do laundry and store some of my belongings at my sisters in the event i do become homeless or sublet hop for the next two months. The girl failed to mention the address of the place and didn't get the memo where i asked for her to text me if she wanted to come, so i quickly sent her an email saying i was jumping on the train and to text me so that when i got service randomly in the underground i would know where the hell i was headed.

i then lugged my suitcase 0.3 miles to the subway, down two flights of stairs and then onto the full train. I finally got a text telling me where to get off, hauled my suitcase (and camera bag and purse with laptop) up two flights of stairs and then another 0.3 miles later, i had finally made it... to paradise.


The apartment is beautiful. It has a huge lobby, doorman, gym, lounge, roof with amazing view of everything you would want to see and a place to have bbqs and fires, and it is one stop away on the train from my office in SoHo. Nothing could have been better, nothing except for the fact that they need someone to sign a lease and if I did that then I would have to find someone to take over my lease after only two months AND i would have to shell out $2000 for the security deposit (which the subleaser would pay to take over the lease).

Is this a terrible idea? Am i so desperate that I am ready to shell out $2000 and sign a year lease in the city just to have a place to stay for 6 weeks to 2 months (I can't move in until Nov. 1st)?!

      and now i am back to hating the girl that is kicking me out.

So now i leave for work, which i am already late for, and walk out the lovely building that i want to house me. This is where things get worse.

pretend instead of rain that is sweat.
THAT is how sweaty i was.
and i looked THAT unhappy too.

First i get lost and go an extra .1 miles,  not a big deal if 80 lbs of luggage was not involved.

Two turns later (and one walk of shame past a man who saw me go the wrong way .765 minutes ago...) i find my correct route.

And now, one of the wheels fall off my suitcase.

Like a beacon in the night i finally see the J subway line. Two flights of stairs later i realize that it is headed to Brooklyn and i have no earthly idea where the uptown station is. 

Back up two flights of stairs, utterly defeated.

Finally I decide to use what the good Lord gave me and hail a cab with beautifully manicured orange nails (he gave me good hands, not the nail polish--obviously)

Old Navy Rockstar Jeans
$10 later i am finally at work. Everything i am wearing is sopping wet, the sweat cascading off my forehead down into my eyes. 

Rachel's 'birthday cake' made out of cookies the size of your head.
almost a week later, they are still a pretty good breakfast.
Then i realize that i never ate breakfast and my beloved protein shake is still on the counter at home, but don't worry, i have a GIANT black & white cookie in my purse, the breakfast of champions.  (there was also a half a piece of pizza in there, but i didn't want to be that smelly co-worker)

Did i mention that the entire time i was sweatily trudging down the street in the Financial District--constantly backtracking and passing the same people for a second time--that i was wearing bright orange pants? There was no mistaking me.

Especially since you could hear me coming for miles with the wretched scrapping plastic sound screaming from my one-wheeled suitcase.



north dakota: never gonna happen.


If there is one thing we all know about me, its how terrible i am at dating. I was recently kinda dating someone in Utah but then i up and moved to the big city and he has sent me all of two one-line texts (no calls, no emails) in the last five days, so i assume it is safe to say that we are over and he doesn't really care to date me when i come back in January (don't you normally at least check to make sure they made it?! other random boys from utah did that...). Now i am in NYC--chilling at my friends apartment while her and her roommates are out of town--trying to find some friends a place to live. Currently i am striking out on both counts but that's not stopping me!

So i am not completely friendless, I have three. Allison--my dear friend who has been so kind to let me sleep in her couch, Jacob--a good friend from back home, and two boys that graduated a year before me in the photo program (but i don't have either of their numbers right now so they only count as one person together, but we are going to get together soon for dinner).

While i was on the phone with Jacob last night--trying to figure out when we can get together-- he told me this:

"you should try out okcupid.com, its a free dating site and it would help you meet people in the city. If you need a testimonial ask my friend. She wasn't getting asked out by the Mormon guys either and then she found this great Jewish guy on there who took her out on a lot of dates. After two months she realized that she didn't really like him romantically but it sure boosted her self-esteem in dating!"

And so to my own chagrin, i got on the site yesterday to check it out. I also decided that if someone does decide they want to ask me out, at least i get a free dinner out of it, and well, being an unpaid intern means i make the trek to Costco and then carry large boxes of food on my birthing hips back to the city... free food is so very tempting...

After looking over some of my results from the site i can't decide if i should be ashamed or amused.



First of all, WHY WOULD IT SUGGEST THAT bdavis_taco IS A GOOD ALTERNATIVE?
nothing screams "Date Me!" quite like throwing tacos into your username.

bdavisinabox also makes me sound super lame. i love being in a box.




Then i got this email. If you have ever talked to me about where i want to live when i grow up, i always answer the same "anywhere but the Dakota's because i choose to believe they don't exist."

The one person in all of Okcupid-dom that is the highest match to me must be the only person in North Dakota that is on the site.

Also note that Utah didn't even show up as number one, apparently i am more pure than average but not even enough for good old Utah. New York is no where on the list so i don't know that i will have any success out here...





and should i be worried that the US didn't show up on this list???





then after answering some questions this chart comes up. I think it is hilarious that in Utah everyone tells me how 'hipster' and independent i am, yet on here i am far from Indie or Independent...

This chart makes me look super lame and like a 60 year old trapped in a 24 year old body...





This seemed a little more accurate. my favorite lines in it are:
"...you are very choosy with your affections..." 
(no, i've never been called 'prickly' before... haha)
"You'd absolutely refuse to date someone dumber than you..." 
(damn right)
"babies do too (have a special soft spot for me) at the tippy-top of their baby skulls" 
(i am the best aunt, they love me)


And that my friends, is the current status of my dating life. If you know normal boys in the Manhattan area, send them my way. But make sure that he knows that he needs to buy me dinner. I am even good with a $6.25 burger from the Shake Shack, no need for anything fancy. 

walk twice, speak once, zero diplomas


photos by Rachel Call

photo by Rachel Call

This one time, being today obviously, i spoke at my college's convocation ceremony. I felt pretty cool just being asked to do so, you might not know this, but i like public speaking. Oh and this is my second time walking (i walked in April before I knew they wanted me to speak in August) and I don't actually get my diploma until December, a whole two credits of internship are holding me back...

After two meetings with Paul, two lunch meetings and three regular type with Val, one review from the committee, a handful of revisions, a dress rehearsal, and about twenty hours of my time, here is my five minute speech in its entirety.  I had the images appearing on the screen as i talked so this obviously isn't as cool. (If you select one photo it will display all of them in a slideshow way at the bottom of your screen, that way you can see them larger--as you should.)




From Crayons to Diplomas---Always an Artist
Fine Arts & Communications Convocation
Brigham Young University
August 10th, 2012

I always knew that I wanted to be an artist when I grew up. In the beginning the medium wasn’t important, I bounced between oil paints, crayons, fabric, clay and when my mother would permit, I would commandeer the family camera and take the allotted three photos. Back then, in my eyes, it only took 3 things to mean I was an artist and therefore bound for fame and glory:


1. My work had to be hung for all to see
2. It had to receive praise from the most prestigious source
3. It had to produce an income.



Being an artist was easy at age 5. I would line the walls of our home with my one-of-a-kind creations and charge my family admission to the “museum.” I even convinced my mom to purchase one of my finer pieces, 'The Girl Turkey Mermaid,' when I threatened to rip it in half if it wasn’t procured. With that purchase I knew I had hit the big time, the most prestigious people in my life, my parents, had not only made my work profitable but had given my work praise.  It didn’t occur to me then that almost every kid in the nation had access to a 64 pack of crayons, parents that thought they were the cat’s pajamas, and the complete work of Dr. Seuss to borrow ideas from.


Though it has always been popular for children to gravitate towards the arts because of the creative nature and bold colors, these days it’s become increasingly more popular to use the same motives to claim one’s self as an artist in adulthood. Hipsters are cleaning out thrift stores of antique cameras and every smart phone user can access Instagram, the largest photo sharing social media app in the world. Some of us might have gotten into the arts for these hip reasons or to be an ‘individual’ but, it doesn’t really matter what got us here, just that we found a reason—within each of us—to stick out the long days and sleepless nightsto create, print, and frame our work.





With my weak argument about what it took to be an artist as a child, it is no surprise that it took me years in the program to finally understand my own need for art. In the beginning I stressed completing assignments with the correct methods and techniques. The ability to release the shutter at the correct moment wasn’t making me an artist; my work lacked a personal voice and motive. It wasn’t until I decided that I wanted to spend my last full year of school devoted to a personal project that I rediscovered the love for photography that I had gained as a thirteen year old when I spent every penny I had on my first camera. In 8 months I traveled to all 9 of my siblings’ homes to photograph them. I took over 7,000 images ranging from potty training their children, to carefree motorcycle rides, to giving birth, to Thanksgiving dinner. This project reminded me that I became a photographer to capture the moments in life that are ordinary but show personalities and evoke memories.  Part of my artist statement for that show read, “Most photographers spend more time working for clients than documenting the people and moments that mean most to them. To photographically neglect my family would be the greatest failure of my career.”






In one of my favorite books about creating art, Art & Fear, the authors, Bayles & Orland explain, “The desire to make art begins early. For some the desire persists, and sooner or later must be addressed. And with good reason: your desire to make art beautiful or meaningful or emotive art-is integral to your sense of who you are. Life and Art, once entwined, can quickly become inseparable; at age ninety Frank Lloyd Wright was still designing, Imogen Cunningham still photographing, Stravinsky still composing, Picasso still painting.”

Like me, the desire to create art persisted in my fellow classmates. The following images exemplify how they were able to push through the creative process and find their own voice. 


Having a career in photography means that we are competent enough at our medium to create an image for a client as they envisioned it, but being a photographer means that we spend our time—between jobs—working on the images that will sustain us as an artists and humans. One of our professors, Paul Adams, constantly says “if you can imagine yourself doing anything else, get out of photography now and do that thing instead.” He understands that being an artist isn’t a career choice; it’s who we are. There is a quote that we keep hung in the dark room that further illiterates this point “Artist don’t get down to work until the pain of working is exceeded by the pain of not working.”



We learned how to successfully execute our mediums in school, but it is in our hearts that we find our passion and use it to transform blank canvases. At times our friends and family won’t understand how we can always be thinking in terms of art, how when we look at a blank, boring, white wall we see color or artwork that should hang there. But we aren’t artist for them, we are artist for ourselves, because we really don’t have a choice. It is at this point that we begin to fear. We fear that we aren’t talented, that we will run out of creativity, that other people are better, that no one—not even our mom— will love our work, and lastly that we are just students and our life as artists will end with graduation.




When the fear sets in, I remember the personal projects. I remember that not all artwork is great, that usually it takes many failed attempts to have what I envisioned come to fruition. I remember that just owning a camera doesn’t make me an artist. But most importantly, I remember that first moment I knew I could not live without creating art.

Thank you.

priorities askew

mallory and me cira 1990(?)
Mallory--"Hey Bethany, what are you doing?"

Me--"Oh you know, just painting my nails and watching The Bachelorette."

Mallory--"So when are you going to update your blog about all those crappy reality shows you watch?"

Me--"I am thinking about doing it tonight, it just depends on how much energy I have after my nails are done drying..."





Excuse me? WHAT?! 

What could possibly have transpired in my brain to make me think that sitting perfectly still has the ability to squander all my energy?

Reality tv, it happened.




I have always lived the motto 'early to bed and early to rise,' not because i thought it would make me wise--mostly because i am a weakling when it comes to staying awake-- but so as a kid i could watch a good solid half hour of television before i went to school. I would turn on the gas fireplace, sprawl out on the carpet with my favorite blanket and warm my feet on the glass of the fireplace as I watched the classic Micky Mouse cartoons (i would also hold snack-size Hersey chocolates against the glass so when i opened them they would be the perfect melty consistency. Yes, even then i thought chocolate after breakfast was a good idea).

For awhile i broke this bad habit. I lived with roommates--that weren't/aren't my favorite people--and i would leave the house as soon as i could. Now that i live alone and finally started paying for internet and scored an iPad from work, let's just say that i lounge around a bit more watching crappy television.  I am trying to break the cycle of laziness but alas i can't pull myself away from the train wrecks that are forever available through Netfilx, Hulu, and Amazon Prime! Why do there have to be so many options? Why can i view them on my Roku and computer at home, on my iPad at work, and my iPhone EVERYWHERE else?! I just can't get away. 

Reality tv has its downfalls, heck, i wrote a four page paper last summer about how The Bachelorette/Bachelor are detrimental to our society and the ideas of intimacy. But it also has some fantastic upsides, the upside of feeling overly accomplished and fan-freaking-tastic. We all have this sick fascination of wanting to see into other peoples' lives, this is why we people watch at the airport, why we like driving through fancy-pants neighborhoods at night when it is easier to see into the brightly lit windows, why we blog and Facebook stalk our newest love interest, and lastly, why we stare at the television for hours as men, women, and children make fools of themselves before our eyes. 

We want to know how other people live and not-so-secretly we want to feel better about ourselves. 

At this time i am not going to tell all the 'i-don't-want-to-give-you-my-netflix-password-because-you-could-see-my-ENTIRE-viewing-history' shows that i have watched since the height of my Netflix/Hulu use, but when it comes to reality tv i have been sucked into the following: The Biggest Loser, Sister Wives, My Strange Addiction, The Virgin Diaries (mostly just this clip WATCH IT NOW!), The Bachelorette/Bachelor, Teen Mom, Teen Mom 2, 16 & Pregnant, Engaged and Underaged, The Real Housewives of New Jersey, and basically all of TLC. 

     

Why?! his hair is so wafty and weird, but its
that damn smile--toying with
everyone's heartstrings...
Just like how i used to lay my head against the window as Mallory and i drove to piano lessons late at night and gaze into the lives of the wealthy through their bay windows-that they should have closed-there is something about gazing into the lives of others. With some i long for certain aspects of their life, i wish that Jef (who is from Pleasant Grove none-the-less, i could WALK to his doorstep) wasn't on The Bachelorette but was taking me on a date, or that i could eat one of those 5 star meals that the women from The Real Housewives would walk away from because of a catty misunderstanding about fake boobs or cheating husbands.

Then on the flip side there are those that you don't long after but leave you in amazement at yourself and how far ahead of the curve you are from your peers across the country. This happens when you see girls slap their boyfriend and then jump onto their bed that that never has a fitted sheet (nothing grosses me out more) to sob a hot mascara mess everywhere like on Teen Mom. Or waddle out of gym while swearing and hurling weights at Bob from the Biggest Loser (and for the record i am down over 10 lbs since the first of the year and feel even more justified). Or that even when i was 16 and in the Virgin Lips Club, i knew that first kiss shouldn't look like fish resuscitating each other...


And that is why i can't give it up. I will never go as far as to apply to be on a show, even if i am 45, still single and The Bachelorette was my only hope (or worse, The Virgin Diaries). Is my life worse for the wear because of this addiction? Probably a little less productive but at least my self esteem got a 5 point boost. 

Maybe now isn't the time that i should say that my friend Cameron once said that out of all our girl friends he would be least surprised if i announced that i got knocked up. If that happens i am totally going to the mid-twenties-single-mom-on-the-prowl reality show. It would make me tens of dollars to pay for all the trashy miniskirts i would have to buy for filming purposes. 

and for the record, cameron was wrong. 
No babies will be kicking their way out of this newly tightened abdomen anytime soon. 




i still have friends?!

when i look like this you might want to hack into my
blog and change the password until i recover.
I just re-read a bunch of my blog posts and the general consensus: how it is that i still have friends?! Seriously people, the next time i am a hot mess for so many months, please, PLEASE, douse me with a bucket of water (or lemonade, i really love lemonade) and tell me to snap out of it.

Sure, the last dumping i received sucked a lot, but what was i thinking? If the boy wasn't interested in dating me in November he sure as hell wouldn't be interested four months later after multiple ranting blog post (forget the letter, emails and one scathing text--all with purpose, i don't just contact exes out of the blue...).

For all of you that lasted those months--still hanging out with me and reading my blog--karma has something good in store for you. Or if karma takes too long to pay you back you can venture on over to my adorable abode for a home cooked meal because, well, you are a saint and deserve it.

And because of that, i decided that i need to cleanse my blog with some new topics.

For the record, this post will be written in less than 1/2 hour (most take me hours, yes hours--lots of proof reading and rewriting though you probably wouldn't notice due to my intense lack of spelling/grammer talents) and it is past 10 o'clock at night which might as well be the wee hours of the morning for me. All of this just to cleanse my blog palette.

Though i don't have time to construct a witty essay of my latest awkward encounter with the male species, showcase photographs of my latest project, or read to you from my childhood journal where i could spell EVEN fewer words correctly, i do have time to mention what is coming in the future.


This blog will soon contain:

Comparisons of: The Biggest Loser, Teen Mom, and Real Housewives of New Jersey. How are they related you might ask? They all make me feel like a million bucks because I am not: 400 lbs, a teen, a mom, and totally classless. I might (meaning i will, of course) reveal just how crappy my taste in television is and yet why i judge all other human beings to no end for their choice of media.

it is softer than a babies butt
How i am going to land myself a trust fund baby in the big apple. I am moving to NYC at the end of the summer and Gossip Girl has been kind enough to teach me the ropes. It also taught me that buying a leather jacket that full price was more than my rent was a good idea (no, i did not pay full price). Could it be possible that crappy teenage dramas are influencing me to make terrible decisions?! Tell me it ain't so! They are only full of moral examples and teach you how to be an upstanding individual!

typewritters are so hip right now.
i had one before hipster's realized it was cool...





The reasons i am not on Pintrest. It probably has to do with the fact that it would be equivalent to giving a crack whore crack (or a brothel?). And did you know that i am just as cool as everything on Pintrest? Oh just you wait, this post will be full of photographs that PROVE i am right. I am the right mixture of Martha Stewart and hipster, i'm going to coin it Stewster.


AND:



that i am starting a new blog and need your help. Currently all i have is the blog layout (the tandem photo shoot is coming this weekend!) but at least its a start. Alone on a Tandem will be submission only blog dedicated to awkward dates. Start bringing back those dates you repressed all those years ago and share them with me. I will photo illustrate them and put them up for all to enjoy/sympathize.

it will also probably have some incriminating photos and possibly a few stories from my childhood like the infamous Loon Lake flash flood where everyone peed their pants and hallucinated.

Until then...



i may have a lot of talents, but dating isn't one of them

on my rooftop reading.
only took me 4 years to finish that book...
Lately i have been in an unpleasant funk. A couple months ago i got dumped, which of course sucked, and after i spent a couple weeks being a hot weepy mess i had to spend all my time of my BFA show. After my show went down, suddenly everything that i didn't have time to deal with came back.

I made a rule for myself sometime ago that i would never be allowed to dwell on an old boyfriend for longer than we dated. This means that this week is the last week i get to spend feeling sorry for myself over my last failed relationship. Over the last few months i have had my run ins with my ex. The run ins wouldn't be so bad if i didn't have this awful talent of saying things that i shouldn't that make conversations awkward or sending way too long of emails that probably make me look like a crazy person. But then again awkward conversation is bound to transpire when you are at a party checking a text when you suddenly get bombarded with the most intensely happy hug from your ex. So did not see that one coming last night... you can imagine how sellar my conversation was after that...

I also have this other issue, a lot of times i feel pretty friendless. I partly doomed my social life be choosing to live alone, but still, my apartment has never been so lifeless as it is right now. I think this partly has to do with the fact that i hate the ward i am in for church. I can go to church for three hours and only talk to 5 people and have someone sit by me for only one of the three meetings. lame. However, i do realize that this is partly my fault. I am not very good at meeting new people.

Anyway, there is a point to this rant. It is at times like this, when God gives me little reminders that i am kinda cool and all is not lost. Kind of like how he made it sunny last week because I am pretty sure i was experiencing the winter blues more than being lonely.

Life is gold because i was reminded that:


~Reading on your dilapidated rooftop is very nice, even if you have to crawl out a window-over your handmade Longaberger pillows-to get there.
~It is impossible to not dance when listening to Arcade Fire's 'Haiti' on vinyl (i just have to watch for the sweet spots in my floor that make the record skip...)
~It is possible to make Peanut Butter Balls in other shapes besides spheres, like dinosaurs for instance.
~It is impossible to make a recipe from Martha Stewart that does not taste awesome.
~Even pies that look like animals drowning in a tar pit are delicious.
~Losing five pounds means that all of your pants fit so now you have 10 pairs instead of 1.
~Spring cleaning can be rewarding when you de-clutter, exchanging crap for your computer for a creative vase of photo props.
~When dating seems impossible you can reread your BFA sign in book where someone wrote 'I want to open mouth kiss you'-there is always someone out there...
~When you have a black and white checkered floor you only have to Magic Erase the white squares.
~You can fix an old Polaroid with a hypodermic needle and some watered down glue (i secretly love sticking things with needles).



this makes me look like i know how to bake pies
unlike the ariel view above...
and this was my first pie.
ever.
and last but not least:

~Though i might think that i am doomed when it comes to dating, I am not completely inept.

On my last date i was not the one wearing a 'Chuck Noris is a Cougar Fan' shirt tucked into my jeans. Or the one that said that i forgot my book of questions to ask someone when you first meet them, oh or the picture book that would explain who i am. Or the one that mashed my first and middle name together so that it would be unique (or sound like you were raised in Utah). Or the one that thought that going Fast Food Shopping is a good idea for dinner.

yup, i now feel a little better.

and for my final rant about my last relationship: he is a photographer that never photographed us/me. He is a musician who never asked me sing with him. He is a connoisseur of fancy foods who never made a fancy dinner for/with me. He is a blogger/writer who never said/wrote a word for or about me or read my blog. He is an outdoorsy man who never went camping or any kind of road trip with me. And last but not least, there is absolutely nothing in my apartment from him-no cards, no flowers, no objects of any sort-nothing.


oh wait, i take that back, there is some cheese in my fridge that he gave me as a peace offering when he dumped me. weird.

yet somehow, the most baffling thing about all this is that somehow i can call him and ass and in the same breath say that i still love him-someone explain that one to me. Or get him to explain to me what the real reasons were for our breakup (i would ask him but like i said, i make things awkward and have already maxed out the allotted email characters for an ex that doesn't want to be an ex...). I bet it has to do with me being older 20 and having this bad habit of falling asleep early while he would do homework at my house, I don't think i was spontaneous enough for him.

and with that, the year of super crappy relationships is over. This year i will not fall for the antics of boys that don't really want to date but just want my food or car (and seriously, why did some of them want me to drive, Tryone is on his last leg...). Even if i only get more unusual dates full of Chuck Norris shirts and crappy hamburgers, at least they won't leave me crying and feeling insecure.

or better yet, i'll forget boys and just focus on the GMAT...


(and here are some more photos of my book, just because it makes me happy)



five years


the first time i went back to his grave after the headstone
had been put in, i am still proud of the design
and that it is not your traditional marker,
 just like how he was not your traditional father. 
The other day i realized something, March 8th had come and gone and i didn't even notice. There is a point when you loose someone that you don't think you will ever forget when they died, and then one day you do and you feel a little guilty. I remember a few years in a row i would go to Burger King on March 8th for my annual Whopper and Dr. Pepper to remember the good times i had with my dad, the times when i was a fat little kid and we would eat way too many whoppers while we made ships in bottles. He didn't even get made at me the time i drilled through the boat and into his kitchen table-probably because he realized he never should have trusted a 10 year old with an electric drill... And now that i don't remember the day he died i realized it is better to remember all the other days of the year that he was alive. The days he made the covers of magazines. The days he would ride the elevator with us, turn off the lights and make the scariest cackle/laugh ever. The days he played chess with me or taught me how to carve wood. Or the days after Christmas when he would eat the entire jar of stuffed olives that we gave him in one sitting.
my high school graduation in June of 2006, our last picture of just the two of us



Oct. 2006 the last vacation my dad had, he came to Utah to see the BYU kids and his siblings.

I currently have 10 copies of this magazine in my possession, I guess you could say i have always been proud of it.
The right image is of the Orlando Sentinel the time my dad made the cover for stealing a B-17 bomber when he was 17...

I remember the time i found the newspaper that had details for my dad's crash from 1989. I had never really known what had happened and it seemed weird that no one ever really said anything about it. It wasn't until i was in high school and one of my sisters and i were talking about how bad it was. We both knew that it would have been better for my dad if he had died in the crash, but i will always be grateful he hung on so i had a chance to spend time with him.  The last 18 years of his life were pretty crappy and I feel kind of selfish for being grateful that he lived them, i guess it just means that i have be something that he would be proud of to make that time worth it. 
i like to think that my creative side and photography skills came from him. that should make him happy. 

sometimes i worry

Tonight as i sat in my kitchen eating my dinner-roasted vegetables with a grilled salmon-while listening to my second Harry Connick Jr. vinyl of the night i realized something, i am turing into an old woman before my eyes. Not only did i make a fantastic dinner, i had from scratch sweet potato casserole in the oven, washed all my dishes, went around my apartment with my hand vac-sucking up all those hard to get areas-and sorted my mail.

now all i apparently need in life is a cat.

I think there are three things that are making me self conscious for my spend-way-too-much-time-in-my-apartment-alone habits. 

1. I watched a recent episode of 30 Rock where liz lemon realizes that she can get anything that she wants if she dresses up like a homeless old lady. We all know that i have a fear of becoming liz, and the fact that she likes being able to empty a room with her crazy demeanor makes me worry about my own habits of spending time alone. 

I want to be that kick a grandma, not a crazy wigged out old lady with bright purple makeup that empties the room with her foul language and crazy eyes. 


2. I started having date night with myself (this sounds way more pathetic in the written word than how i imagined this in my mind). This came about because i really hate dating. a lot. After being on the dating scene for almost a decade and mostly having a lot of bad date stories and only a couple keepers (where obviously the feeling wasn't mutual) i have decided that i need to learn how to be a good date. All this bad dating of the past can't solely be the guys fault...

3. I have also noticed that i am started to acquire strange habits because i live alone. I systematically switch where i sit on my couch so that it doesn't start to sag in the most sat in area. I used to be able to get up and be out of my house in 13 minutes, now it takes me forever because i have all these weird rituals. Same with going to bed, in the last couple months i have added unnecessary steps to my night time ritual before i can crawl between the sheets (i washed 21 pairs of socks in my last load of laundry, apparently compulsively changing my socks is among my rituals...). I also do things like alphabetize books and rearrange my pantry for fun. Not to mention that i now get super excited when i 'splurge' on items like soufflé pans and dinosaur candy molds. 

i really need to get out more.

unless i get out more this is all i have to look forward to on my way to senile-dom,


welcome to date night, 
the land of vinyl records, new recipes, a camera, and periodic spontaneous dancing.  







i think for this week's 'date night' i am at least taking myself out for a night on the town. 
Watch out Salt Lake, me and i are coming! 



keyword me.

Nothing makes you feel more awesome then looking up the top search words that google thought should direct people to your blog.

In the past week people have searched for:



and over the course of my blogership people have searched for:



boy chubby undies?!

CHEESY BLASTERS?!

All the other ones made sense, anything with BYU--especially housing--of course! Kid from little giants who is solely known for blowing snot bubbles? Nothing says 'Bethany as a scrawny kid' better.

Lately i have been having that whole 'i just got dumped and feel kinda terrible about myself' attitude. You know the feeling, the way you feel when someone gave you lame reasons why they didn't want to date you but still wanted you as their best friend--it is kinda equivalent to feeling like the fat best friend, you are there when it is convenient but they don't really want you around all the time--like when super hott boys are around to flirt with (which is funny since if they view you as the fat best friend they shouldn't view you as a threat and shouldn't shun you from the hott boy flirting). Amazingly enough, knowing that people get to my blog because i once resembled the scrawny snot bubble of a boy makes me feel good. At least i have blossomed out of that stage. Let's be grateful for one thing at a time. 

and on that note, my new mantra is to tell myself that i am beautiful because i feel that women are taught not to vocalize that they are beautiful. Have you ever had someone ask you if you think you are beautiful? It is an awkward question, women have been conditioned to feel conceited and shirk off compliments. That awful feeling you have after a boy stays a lot of stupid things, combined with not feeling comfortable about being confident in your own beauty makes you feel all sorts of dumpy. I am out to change that. So here is a photo that i think i look pretty in. And there i said it (i tend to proof read my blog entries out loud) sometimes i think i am beautiful. 


no snot bubbles or accidental nipple here. 

(if you have no idea what i am talking about when i reference the boy from Little Giants, 
visit this short little ditty of a post)

here's to the year

At the beginning of january facebook and blogs are plagued with resolutions. I however, am not one of those people. I tend to post photos--that i should probably be embarressed by-- like in one of my personal favorite blog posts about growing up. This showcased lovely photos from every year of my life to which one friend commented 'the bethany i know started somewhere around 2001.' Now that i have successfully covered all the awkward aspects of my quest to adulthood i figured i should just focus on just the last year--the 24th year of my life.

and since my birthday is in six days--a year after my post full of awkward photos--i still have a few more precious days time to find some more worthwhile/eventful activities to add before my 'year' is up. I will gladly take suggestions for such activities'.


This year I:


*Found my own apartment.
*Furnished and decorated said apartment with more cheap pottery barn items and original art than i thought possible.
*Learned that a couch that seats five only fits in an upstairs apartment when you take the banister off the stairs.
*Flew in 6 planes and took trains and automobiles also.
*Witnessed a birth and didn't even throw up or completely swear off baring children in the distant future.        
*Visited all 9 of my siblings homes.
*Spent 24 hours in vans full of sweaty runners during the ragnar.
*Ran to class from my office in orem more than once.
*Made my first attempt to do the midnight hike of Timp during my first 24 hour straight date.
*Fell alseep on the side of said mountain and gave up the summit for french toast at Kneaders.
*Successfully fed 50 people a turkey dinner.
*Wore red lipstick with confidence.
*Painted my nails an outlandish color almost weekly.
*Only tore a 4"hole in two pairs of jeans-of course in the butt and still wore them in public
*Went back to school full time but only for spring/summer terms.
*Called a professor an ass in class, he deserved it and may not have heard it.
*Wrote a paper for class on a typewriter.
*Drove a byu van full of students through a blizzard.
*Found out my favorite professor reads my blog.
*Mallory helped me rediscover that combining dog, pig, and cat noises is the funniest sound you can make.
*Went on dates with 6 different guys, which blows my semi annual dates of years past out of the water.
*Had multiple smellers--its like stalkers but they smell you instead of watch you.
*Gave up coke for club soda with copious amount of fresh lime.
*Lived off only fajitas for two weeks straight.
*Discovered that i make the most beautiful and equally delicious carrot cake.
*Terrified my nieces by talking to them in my sleep.
*Discovered the magical power of vinyl records.
*Dominated business phone calls with eBay and found out that we are in the top 2% of all accounts.
*Let a puppy sleep in my bed.
*Had my heart broken for the first time.
*Took over 5,000 photographs in the last few months.
*Stopped (it is still an ongoing process) frivolous shopping in hopes of having more money to put towards a house in the coming months.
*Realized the only aspect of living alone that terrifies me is showering, so naturally i shower with the door open with a clear curtain.
*Added someone on facebook solely because of their blog and only felt slightly creepy for it (we do have mutual friends so that cuts the creepy factor at least in half).

I also realized somethings about myself and made changes, if you are one of those purist you can call them resolutions.

I realized that i am much more interested in food than i thought and changed a lot of my buying/eating habits. I now only eat meat that looks like meat (you know what i am talking about, that lunch meat that looks like smooth plastic and chicken nuggets...). I buy local when i can and always buy local eggs and milk. I also stopped eating fast food, my skinny jeans are oh so ever grateful. And for the most part i don't eat much bread, it is my heroine of the food world...

Realized that i am too old to eat whatever i want and actually have to do that thing they call working out. I then remembered how much i love weight lifting and that if you give me a riveting enough show to watch i can forget i am on a treadmill. Breaking Bad, i am forever in your debt for those hundreds of calories you helped me burn (And for the most amazing end of a season ever, seriously, EVER).

Found new loves in music like Bon Iver, The Middle East, Blind Pilot, Dr. Dog, The Avett Brothers and Florence and the Machine. They are slowing winning my heart over enough to be purchased for my coveted record collection.

I have also realized that no matter how much i rag on dating, it is a necessary evil and one day i will champion at it. It is, after all, a sport you only have to win once...

everything i am, i was by age 9











Sometimes i like to tell myself that i only get more awesome with age. Recently i went through my first journal and realized a sad truth, i am exactly the same as when i was that goofy little kid with glasses so large they gave me sunburns on my cheeks.







November 25th, 1994 (age 6)


I am giteen my ckast oof in tue weex.




Okay, my spelling has improved a bit ( i can now spell words that have more than one and two letters correctly), but i think that is mostly due to the invention of spell check. The day the inter-webs came equipped with spell check i cried a little--happy, happy tears. I also am still just as unfortunate in the injury aspect of life... at 6 i (levi really) broke my arm but it just got worse with age as i progressed to sprained ankles, ankle reconstruction, and hip surgery...

February 9th, 1995 (age 7)


I am Mad at mom becaus mom and dad are going out to eet and tomorrow my famulee are going out to eet and I can't go becus I am going to Colette to spend the night and I can eethr go to Colette's or out to eet.

i just look so at home eating out. This was obviously before
i ate out too much and got a bit chunky













One time my friend asked my mom how i got to be such a fantastic cook, her answer was 'well it makes sense...she has always really loved food.' That was the nice way of saying that i was a little bit chunky. I probably like food even more now but i do have a greater appreciation for raw food and have stopped eating fast food, which is what my family was probably going to get. That or dinner at Flying J...




organize much?
April 27th, 1997 (age 9)


Now about our new car its a tin green. Has 7 seats, back windows that open. 5 cup holders, theres I think 5 cumpartments that hold sun glasses, a grog opener, a spy glass, and change. I gess that times four. Well I'm tired so I going to bed because it is 10:18 P.M. so good night journal. 
by style and by color, the way every closet should be.







Obsess about details much? I am slightly ocd, count things and organize to a fault. I also always know the exact time and am super punctual. I am  still terrible at explaining things, kinda like the 'I gess that times four' sentence.








May 3rd, 1997 (age 9)


I'm sorry my enchreys are so boring but hey I have a boring life.

Okay, this one is not true. I am not boring. For example read: terrors in the night, 23 years and counting, davises go all the way, etc. etc. etc.


May 8th, 1997 (age 9)

I don't have very much to say so don't exepte a lot. I'm going to bed now even tough it only 9:00 because when I sleep with Lynsey, we talk about going to camp until after ten 30 o,clock.

I make 10:30 (ten 30 o,clock to be more exact) seem like 4 am. I am pretty sure i have the same sleeping schedule that i did when i was 6. And, if i didn't sleep so much i might not get the amazing night life chalked full of sleep walking/dancing/singing/scarring children and over the top vivid dreams.




i might own a small business now but getting my mba is next.
May 13th, 1997 (age 9)


When I'm 30 or when I'm marryed I'll look back and see how funny I wrote. It will be funny.

Next month i will officially be in my mid twenties and on my way to single at 30. But i did forget to add that when I'm 30, i'll also be and a wicked hot/fit power business woman in a fortune 500 company.










May14th, 1997 (age 9)


I'm glad to day I didn't have any G.A.T. home work. I'm glad that after tomarow I only have to go to G.A.T. one more time.

I like to think that i am an exceptionally smart individual and logical. Sadly, i still have major blond moments (like the time my sister jokingly said she wanted to go to Chip and Dales for her birthday and i said, 'why you like nuts?' referring to the squirrels. Yes, i said squirrels, I couldn't even get the breed of rodent correct let alone type of establishment.) For the record, i was in the Gifted and Talented Education program. You know, GAT with an E...
oh my little tom boy. i think it only worked when
she was flat, once she got bitten by the boobie
fairy she decided to get more girly. once you get
boobs you either have to look super chubby/butch
in over sized clothes or get over boy clothes and
embrace your true gender.
i'm so proud of you mallory
:)





October 29th, 1997 (age 9)


I have some prity neat stuff to tell you. 


The first thing is Sarah is going to get married to Lucus Bushwiller! She was going to go on a mission but instead she is going to get hiched her wedding is Decemeber 20th at 1:00 P.M. We are having the wedding the wedding resepion at our house. It seamse reallyweird but it is happening. She got engaged Oct. 28th at 4:00 P.M.


realization i'm a girl







tom boy side


















One thing that has changed with age, my girly side has come out. I think that mallory scared all my girly-ness out of me. She was a tom-boy to the max and brutally made fun of anything pink and or frilly. Once i stopped being scared of mallory i started wearing fitted clothes and painting my nails weekly. I also, not so secretly, love weddings and all the nitty gritty details. Apparently at nine i never talked about weddings, just wrote them in my journal--secretly--where mallory's prying eyes couldn't see it--or punch me for it.



sadly i don't know that i have one normal photo of us. you know,
whereboth our eyes are open?
Novemeber 3rd, 1997 (age 9)


At Maple Grove this year we got a lot of kids from Hrizen. There is a new kid in my class named Jesse, he is 3 and a half inches shorter than me and is three mouths and about a day older than me. He is pritty funny, he tells me and Amanda some pritty weird stoirse. Like when he was little he used to run around the streets naked because his mom couldn't cach him or one time he told us that he doesn't wear underwear, he wears boxers and he said that onehe got made at his brother Seth and ripped his ear on axednent And a nother time he told us that once he stoll a kids shoe at church so the kid started chashing him and right when he dropped the shoes the kid bit his bum! He said that it hurt pritty bad and that it hurt to sit down for a week. Me favroirt is when he told us that he took a picher of his brother Seth Naked!!! That  was kind of mean. Our family knows a lot of Jesse's family.  I think Jesse is pritty nice and does a lot of really onushell stuff. 


p.s. i don't like him

my high school best friend. we are/were so cute.
If i could figure out this much stuff about my crush at 9, image what facebook has done to my stalking abilities! The ps is my favorite. I did like him and in high school i finally admitted it and dated him. I guess my admission of crushes is a new thing. At 17 my best friend Stephen made my new years resolution for me, it was that i would tell him who i liked. This is why i will be single until i am 30. It took me 17 years to learn how to admit that i have crushes, it will take me another 12 at least to figure out how to successfully flirt.


this single lady

You'd think that dating someone for four months would make it hard to get back into the swing of single life. Turns out i am almost as good at adjusting to single-dom as i am to jet lag (i am a rockstar at combatting jet lag by the way).

this is the face of a recently dumped girl.
or a girl that just cut onions.
okay fine, this photo is from when i cut onions.
i wish you could see the tears dripping off my chin soaking my shirt.
ironically, my boyfriend always cut onions for me,
i guess it is tear stained shirts again for me now.
sucky suck, i eat a lot of onions.
So what is it like to be single and live alone? Oh, it is a party i'll tell you what. It only took one day to adjust back to my normal--perfect-- sleep schedule, in bed around ten and up at seven. Being dumped ironically also pushes me to exercise and eat less sweets (except for last night when i 'accidentally' ate half a (small) pan of reese's bars...) so i have been working out like none other (should i be worried that i am an aggressive person if instead of crying i want to lift weights and run until my legs throb?). I was at my heaviest ever last week but now i am on the road to skinny jean recovery. My apartment is also very clean. I think i replaced my boyfriend with another man, my new dyson. I vacuum all the time. Seriously, all the time.

Being single lets you do anything you fancy. Lately, the things that i have been fancying involve Christmas. So now, without anyone judging (not that my boyfriend ever judged how i decorated my apartment, but whatever) my plan of attack for things, i have fully 'thrown' up Christmas all over my house.










Today i pulled out my iron for the first time. I didn't use it for clothes--i try not to buy things that need such a device--i used it to flatten snowflakes of course. I also got creative with my Christmas tree. I couldn't find paper clips to hang my small silver ornaments so naturally i choose the smallest clothes pins i have.  I then decorated with my trusty--twelve odd years old--popcorn and cranberry chain. She is a real beauty and makes my tipsy tree perfect. Speaking of being single, you know you are single when your Christmas decorations take up less than a square foot of closet space. All of my ornaments fit in a small tin can, pretty classy indeed.





When you are single you also get to do classy things like lounge around in your sock monkey slippers with your huge plush robe while you pick apart a chicken carcass on your leather ottoman. Next i will probably paint my nails skanky barbie pink, you know, to shake things up a bit. 



Don't get me wrong, i don't seek to be single even though i am so damn good at it, it is just something that unfortunately happens. Do i wish that my boyfriend would realize that i am a catch (come on, i even postpone painting my nails so i can pick a chicken clean, that is a damn good woman)? Yes. Do i wish that he hadn't had me pick him up from the airport and use my time and gas only for him to dump me when we got to provo? Yes. Do i wish i hadn't accidentally started crying in front of my class when a friend asked about him the day after he dumped me? Surprisingly, no. It was rather entertaining with this poor boy was trying to console me while i was laugh/crying. He was patting my knee from a distance trying to make things better saying, "um i usually don't make people cry...". Lucky chap, he's been married so long he forgot how to console girls with broken hearts. 

oh and my exboyfriend admitted while we dated that he never read my blog. one of my friends said that should have been a sign...

"would it be weird if i asked if i could..."

I once read that imogen heap and guy sigsworth named their musical duo Frou Frou because it is the sound silk skirts make when women dance that drives men wild. If a sound can drive men wild, i have found the scent. 

Meet my new best friend/worst enemy. The body shop's oceanus body lotion.

Okay, this isn't a new relationship, the smell of oceanus takes me back to my pristinely clean white bathroom in high school. At the time i was a live in nanny and home quite a bit. Being home and taking care of messy kids made me overly clean. Every friday i got in the habit of deep cleaning my bathroom, from scrubbing the grout to carefully polishing the sink hardware. My sanctuary was my room and bathroom, no one else used them, they were all mine, all white, all clean, and all mine. Because i used oceanus a lot at this time, it always makes me feel clean, especially since the smell is a sweet clean laundry scent.
I always took comfort in this smell, that is until recently.

I walked into dinner group a while ago and as soon as i shut the front door a boy started loudly sniffing me, moving his head from my feet to my face. "You smell so good!" he said. The loud sniffing caught me off guard and slightly weirded me out, "Um, thanks..."

things i thought would entice boys, cute outfits.
can you tell i love dresses? a lot?
I purposely sat on the other side of the table from him while we ate but when i was leaving i was found standing next to him again. "Seriously, you smell so good! You smell like my great grandmother's house." Excuse me, your what?! He assured me that was a good smell, but seriously, I smell like old people and that turns you on?! I laughed it off like i wasn't creeped out and jokingly walked over to him (and another boy to asked if he could smell) stretched my nimble leg in the air and as gracefully as vanna white presented my leg for a millisecond snif.  

Then the second boy chased me out the door to ask me on a date.

part of my vast rainbow high heel collection
At church three days later, the first boy walked across an entire row of seats to sit in the vacant seat next to me. I had my suspicions but gave him the benefit of the doubt. A couple hours later i was talking to a friend in the bishop's office when out of the corner i heard "you smell so good." I turned to him and said, "that is the only reason you sat next me isn't it?!" not even sheepishly he answered "well, kinda, you just smell so good." I asked him if he wanted me to give him some of the lotion so he could smell it whenever he wanted but he said that it is my scent mixed with it. Creepy. I then slid out of the room sideways laughing a broken awkward laugh...

I had always thought that boys would notice more outward attempts at being lovely. I liked to think that when i dressed up, that is what would entice the boys--my intense collection of classy dresses and skittle assortment of rockin heels. Little did i know that it only takes a quarter size of fragrant moisturizer to make the heads turn.

Unfortunately, not the right heads. 

At fhe a week ago--a month after i was first smelled--i ran into the boy again. He casually looks over at me and says "hello bethany, would it be weird if i asked if i could smell you?" yes, yes it would. 

I told him i stopped wearing that lotion. He wasn't surprised that it was because of him. 

Don't loudly sniff girls. It is strange. And it made me stop wearing one of my favorite things.
my sister mallory, but my outfit, aren't we cute when we try? 

i want to go to there

we dance alike 
I have found a new love, 30 Rock. Why oh why did it take me so long to realize exactly how wonderful this show is?! The best part of the show of course is Liz Lemon and well--lets face it--we are pretty similar.

When Lemon's bra fell apart at work, i applauded her creative solution of scotch tape.

When she ate a PopTart that she found under the couch, i was jealous, the rare PopTart is pretty delicious.

we both love photography
When she had a false positive pregnancy test because of the copious amount of Mexican Cheetos she ate, i thought of my addiction of Natural Cheetos.

When she wants a baby but can't find any guy she would want to procreate with, it reminds me how i have a 97% chance of not being impregnated by going to bed before 10pm on a regular basis.

When she curses wearing nylons and spandex and it reminds me that i believe that a man that hates women invented nylons.

and the list goes on.

So here are my favorite Liz Lemon quotes:

we all know i LOVE to eat
-Lovers.. oh, that word bums me out unless it’s between meat and pizza.

-You are my heroine! And by heroine I mean lady hero. I don’t want to inject you and listen to jazz.

-My heart’s pounding like I’m watching Oprah’s farewell season.

-Jack Donaghy is gonna kill me and then he’s gonna kill you and then he’s gonna fold us up in a pizza and eat us.

-I want to go to there.

um this doesn't quite fit, i have never seen a Harry Potter film
-Hey, nerds! Who’s got two thumbs, speaks limited French, and hasn’t cried once today? [pointing thumbs at self] This moi.

-Thanks, it’s my own recipe. I use cheddar cheese instead of water

-Man, three weddings in one day, I’m going to be in Spanx for 12 hours. My elastic line is gonna get infected again.

-No, I'm going to tell Drew that I'm having a little welcome to the building party for him but there is no party and then when he shows up I'll laugh and say 'oh it's the wrong night' and then he'll laugh and say one glass couldn't hurt and then I will put my mouth on his mouth.

i have a secret, i kinda loved the Oprah show, that is until my roommates told me that i wasn't allowed to watch it anymore
because Diana and i cried too much during her touching episodes...




And then today i felt like i had a Liz Lemon moment. You see, one day my friend told me that he looked me up in the church directory but couldn't find me. I of course gave him a hard time, "I am on the last page, my picture is pretty big, you can't miss me. Way to try and make yourself look good by saying you 'tried' to find me..."

So it turns out he was right. I am not in the directory, well not his or anyone elses but my own. Apparently the people that were putting the thing together didn't realize until they got to my house--to deliver my copy--that i wasn't in it. They promptly added me to the last page and gave me the only copy. This seems like something Studio 6h would do to Liz... everyone knows but her...haha

he loves me. he loves me not. take two.

have i mentioned how much i
LOVE this show?
my new life goal is have a story
featured in an episode.
I realized something awful after i published my last post: it came across way too depressing and my normal humor and wit was lacking. This post will therefore be a replacement for the last, less-than-desirable, post.


Today i was doing what i normally do, listening to This American Life while i work (or disinfect levi's usually very nasty dish situation in the kitchen...). One of the episodes that i was engrossed in was about break ups (the most current episode which can be streamed from their site). Everyone has them, they are probably the most common thing among humans, yet when it happens to us we feel like no one could possibly know the pain. And some of us, just want to be able to write heart throbbing lyrics about our recently failed relations.


I may or may not have recently started a phone conversation the following way with a fellow that i had been going on dates with for a couple months:


"so... can you just tell me why i'm that girl that never really dates anyone? I mean, out of the three guys that halfway dated me in the last year, you are on the nice end of the spectrum and are probably the only one that would tell me..."


This was not a break up, we were never dating. It is obviously not a break up when the conversation has a fair bit of laughing and sarcasm from both sides. But none-the-less, laughter aside, i was frustrated with my dating history 


self portrait 2010, untitled 
"sleepless nights due to neighbors that never turn off their blasted porch light..."
I have decided that i would rather not date people at all so i can feel justified in my self pity of loneliness, or i want a boy to REALLY break up with me. The type of relationship demise that has its roots so deep in drama and tears that it has the potential to be the meat and potatoes of the next chart topping love song. All i currently have it half-assed relationships that leave me not justified to complain about never going on dates but at the same time the dates aren't leading anywhere so i never get the "i could write a cheesy bubbly love song about this" or "this sucked so bad i am going to write the most depressing break up song ever. evvveerrr."


have i mentioned that i do not write music? yeah, that doesn't matter, it is the principle. And who knows? Maybe i've just never had the fiery fuel to write a song, perhaps i am just one break up--or torrid love affair--away from billboard gold. Or i could finally have good stories for the seemingly dark self portraits i seem to create for class...


What have i got from my previous relations (some probably don't even deserve the word 'relationship')? Nothing worth writing about. 

-at 16 i actually had a boyfriend, the only time the 'title' happened. This relationship lasted about six months but was high school mormon dating which equals not real dating. You know the type, you are best friends and everyone knows your dating and after a couple months they kiss you, real heavy stuff.


-a couple boys who i would rather forget that i ever knew let alone kissed...

-My freshmen year of college i kinda dated a great guy. We never officially dated, he kissed me the night before he went home for the summer and then one visit and a couple months later he went on a two year mission. We wrote the entire time but when he got home i freaked out (I was terrified of the stereotypical return missionary that is pining for marriage). 

He got married last week.

self portrait 2009 "i can do hard things"
-Last summer i thought i was dating a kid but it turns out he never really told anyone about me and when someone called him my boyfriend he freaked out and broke up with me. (which is ironic to feel the need to break up when apparently i wasn't his girlfriend...)

-and now my newest phenomenon, a variation of: 
boys that know me but never talk to me. One day that actually talk to me and decide i am super cool, hangout with me a ton and then drop off the face of the earth. 

I guess i could write a deep despairing love song about my high school romance. No, that won't really work, i was more distraught about the boy starting to drink and what not the year after we broke up then actually breaking up. I don't think a break up song about high school drinking would top any charts.

There could be something good about the boy that got married, but i was so afraid of marriage that i never talked about anything too deep. A break up song with no gut wrenching emotion filled conversation doesn't win either. 

This leaves me empty. Empty of fuel for lyrics. Empty of fuel for blogging. Empty. 

With this, I succumb to the most low form of dating. It has to be better than what i am getting myself. I hereby will accept dates from others, aka blind dates. I have never been a fan before, the boy who called himself 'Buck' that didn't really talk our whole date probably killed that, but i am willing to let bygones be bygones and try it out again. But, if you feel the need to set me up you must think that we are compatible and don't just fit the criteria of 'well, their both single...'

Perhaps with your help i could finally have that torrid love affair, or at least something.

And for the record, the things that came from that phone conversation about what i need to work on in dating are as follows in case you feel the need to tell the blind date participant why i am currently single: i am forward at the wrong times, i sometimes text too often, i make it too easy for boys that are not interested to spend time with me (i will blame that on my generosity and delectable cooking skills), and i read all and every sign the exact wrong way (like that creepy girl in the He Love Me He Loves Me Not french film).

But on the flip side you can go ahead and tell that: I am independent/self sufficient, witty, decent at dressing myself, martha stewart-ish, classy, well read, at times athletic, and basically just all around fantastic.