i'm bethany and i'm a mormon-that-supports-gay-marriage

because it seems to be the cool kid thing to do right now, i am going to try and explain to the masses how i could possibly support gay marriage as a devot mormon.

*****PLEASE NOTE*****
since this is my blog i get to make the rules, if you HATE what i think and want to leave a most nasty comment you may, BUT you then have to read another post of mine (which are usually funny and not so political) and leave an oh so happy comment. Got it? Good.
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let me first say what i really think the US needs to do: the United States needs to not reconigze marriage, they need to migrate to civil unions. This way all concenting adults that want to devote their lives to one another can have the same benefits as all other couples. Then you can go to your institution of choice and get married. I have been on this bandwagon for years. But, since the US is not discussing this but instead marriage, i have no other option but to support gay marriage because i feel so strongly that couples need to have rights.

Now lets talk 'traditional marriage'--that lovely term that 95% of my facebook friends like to talk about all.the.time. In case some of you haven't noticed, marriage has encompased a lot of different scenerios over the centuries. Remember all those stories in the Bible with men having lots of wives and concubines? Or what about in Mormonism how we believe in polygamy and it was practiced less than two hundred years ago? Or what about interracial marriage being illegal until 1967? Marriage has not always been just between one man and one woman, not even in the bible. We are arguing over the definition of a word that has never been one finite thing.

Now lets talk about the article so many of you posted, Church Responds to HRC Petition: Statement on Same-Sex Attraction. It was written in 2010--that is over two years ago. In those two years the church actually started using the word gay more openly and even created a new website, http://www.mormonsandgays.org/, where they say "Even though individuals do not choose to have such attractions, they do choose how to respond to them. With love and understanding, the Church reaches out to all God’s children, including our gay and lesbian brothers and sisters." They clearly say here that people do not choose to be gay. The previous article (HRC) also says that we support equal civil rights--in the US this means marriage because many rights are only afforded to married couples. 

Then there was the other thing many posted, The Family, A Proclamation to the World. I have read this article many times, have a copy of it in my home and even took a class on it in college. I love all the great things this thing says. But, this talks about the ideal family and what a family can be with the Gospel of Jesus Christ. My family did not meet this, i grew up in a single family home. Though i did not have a father present in my life, is my family broken? Also, many people will never accept the Gospel so are they to be punished for not agreeing with our beliefs? We hold ourselves to a higher law because we believe it and understand it, we cannot condem others and withhold rights on something they do not understand.

Over and over we hear that Satan is attacking the family. This is more than true. But is gay marriage really at the forefront? What about teenagers that play russian roulette with the gift of creation and keep making babies that they don't want and can't care for? What about women that pay more attention to updating their (fictitious) perfect life on facebook and blogger than their own children? What about men that beat their wives and children? What about corruption and scandal in big business and government? What about people taking advantage of the system and always taking from government aid and never contributing to society? What about destroying our bodies with drugs? What about people killing each other because they are too stupid to not drive home when they are wasted? What about the huge porn industry that our children are exposed to?

The family is under attack because people are only getting more selfish, entitled and downright evil.

The family is not under attack because people want to love more.

and i think this has sealed my fate of being single forever. I once was dumped because a guy thought i wasn't spiritual enough and no non-mormon wants to date me because to them i am too religious. Oh the woes of being a liberal mormon woman.

tales from the tithing child

i couldn't keep simple things, like how many siblings i had, straight when i was a kid, why do i assume i can remember things accurately? there are 16 heads in this photo, my family only had 12 if you count my parents...

The other day i was with my mom and brother and commented about something i remembered as a child. Without even taking 7.3 seconds to comprehend what i said, Levi goes, "there is no way you remember that..." I stopped to think about it and realized, damn, he might be right.

Turns out that i am a bit hazy about the details of my life prior to 1998 or so. 

am i looking at the camera or the guy to to your right? YOU'LL NEVER KNOW! mawhaha

As i thought about my childhood i realized that a lot of my 'memories' are in third person--i see things happening to me as if i am a bystander. I'm no psychologist but i think that might indicate that i am making them up. Example--i have a distint memory of being pinned down by nurses and having eye drops forced into my eyes. I know this possible because i have been going to the eye doctor since i was a wee babe (its not hard to tell that your kid needs to go to the eye doctor when they are only really paying attention to you with one eye...) and getting my eyes dilated. But i didn't know until i was at least in high school that i had eye surgery when i was two and that is why i have gray streaks in the whites of my eyes, turns out they are scars. So did i make up the memory? Since when i think of 'that time' the room is pitch black with a spot light shinning on the poor cross-eyed girl that is being pinned down in the giant brown leather chair, i would say yes. My eye doctor's office was only 80% that creepy in real life with his crazy animatronic dog in the corner--AND he didn't have nurses.

mallory and i fight? never.

Then there was that time that Mallory and i got in squabble over where we sat at the dinner table. Everyone agreed with Mallory--my chair was across from the one i was claiming. But i didn't let that stop me! I was positive that i was right (and still am to this day, more so i am just so confused i don't know what to think)! Our fight was so dramatic that my mom left the table and her dinner and told us we could eat on the floor for all she cared.

Or how about the fact that i am 90% sure i once got all of my fingers--minus my thumbs--shut in the car hood, yet my brother who i swear was working on the car can't remember? I would think that if you accidentally shut your 5 year old sister in the car you would remember. BUT i remember that in first person, so did it really happen?!

my life is a mess. or so i think it is?

But here are a few things I KNOW happened when i was a kid.

he looks so innocent and loving. just like wayne before he became the infamous Hamster Patrol...

Levi once locked me in the car after church because he is an older brother and that is the type of thing they do according to all television shows namely the Wonder Years. I was a 'dumb kid' (according to levi of course) and couldn't figure out the super high tech pull this thing the size of a screw up and it will release the door lock thing. Needless to say, i had to pee super bad and wet my pants all over the backseat--and i highly doubt i sat in one place like a sane person would, more like let's spread pee all over the seat in a panic! Once one of my nicer siblings, most likely a sister, let me out of the car and assessed the wet mess, Levi was summoned to clean it up. Karma, she's a--... you know the rest.

I really liked to run away as a kid. Most of the time i was kind enough to leave a map--though it was rarely accurate in topography or where i actually was--usually it was to my preschool. I would grab my favorite doll, Baby Beth (which ironically is not mine but a doll i swiped from my sister Sarah), a small hot pink plastic suitcase, a set of Baby Beth's cloths and a can of green beans. I would then haul all of this and a small wooden chair out my front door, down the yard, and into the ditch bank. I would sit under our driveway which was a bridge and contemplate the finer things in life--the color pink, dolls and green beans. 

The first time my mom left my alone I was probably no older than 5, she ran to a neighbors or something and wasn't gone more than five minutes (so that none of you assume she was a terrible parent). I watched her leave and as soon as she was in her car I sprinted to the basement where i helped myself onto the play table where i proceeded to dance. Apparently, out of all the forbidden things in the Davis household that i instantly had access to, dancing on the table tops was my top priority. You would think that i would have grown up to be a seductive party girl instead of the loner introvert. 

One of our favorite pass times in the summer was playing on our amazing wooden playground. We only had it until i was 7 so i am a bit hazy on its actual size because well, to me it was HUGE! I do know that the slide was long enough to merit levi hauling his bmx up it to ride down so huge is probably fairly accurate. Anyway, seeing as our father should have been in the circus and we were all able to walk on our hands as children, it is no surprise that we would grab the thick braided rope from the farside of the playground and throw it up to the person perched on the slide. We would then leap off the side of the slide and swing back and forth. I however remember doing this but missing the open space i was aiming for and slamming straight into the support beam where it proceeded to break my glasses and bounce me backwards into a pile of the dreaded sticker weeds. Luckily Jenny was kind enough to get tweezers and de-sticker my palms.

like this only cooler

I also remember the amazing three horse carrousel that my family had. It was on our back patio, was white with primary colors and had a light switch on the box instead of a coin slot so we could ride to our little hearts content. I also remember embracing the Davis, or daredevil--they are sometime interchangeable--in me and climbing onto the horses back, up the mane, grabbing onto the inside lip of the roof while i balanced my feet on the handles coming out of the horses head, and then climbing onto the roof. Then i remember falling off. Or do i? Is this where my problems began? Trauma to the head?                                                   

maybe i did remember being born, i look like i was pretty traumatized from the experience...

I called Mallory to ask her if she had input on this. Without thinking, just like Levi, she said, "when you were little you used to tell us you remembered being born, that you remembered the doctor slapping your butt or something..."

and i guess that proves it, i have the best-worst memory around.

But i will always stick to the story that i remember laying on the shag carpet in the family room of our house with my pants off and diaper open. I then remember at least two of my older siblings, i think Mike and Katie, coming in, seeing the poopy diaper and turning away because they didn't want to change it. If you know mike and katie or any teenagers you should be able to see the truth in this one...

unsubscribed.

i made myself a 30 day 'chip.' why should people in AA have all the fun?

hello, my name is Bethany and i am a shopaholic.

okay, not completely true but slightly (you can tell this is the denial part of my problem). I have never gone into debt for anything--even school, but that doesn't mean that i might not shop a little too much.

But i have changed my ways. i have unsubscribed from those handy emails that tell me when things are 40% off already reduced prices. i have made new budgets. i have given away my shopping arsenal to save money. i have even liquidated shoes, bags and a ridiculous amount of lotion on eBay.

Maybe i am giving myself too much credit for not shopping for the past 40 days, i mean if you already own enough dresses that you could wear a different one each week to church without repeating you probably should have stopped shopping about 40 dresses ago...Same with dishes, i mean i have three sets and can serve 24 people--i can't even fit 10 people in my apartment! The fact that i own EVERYTHING i could possibly need during my twenties combined with the Mad Men collection from Banana Republic this year not be tempting in the slightest, i shouldn't be shopping anyway...

the feeling is mutual W&S... the feeling is mutual...

Ever since i was young i have been obsessed with money--making it, counting it, writing budgets for it, organizing it, planning the future with it--everything. With ten kids in the family and my dad being out of work my entire life due to a dibilitating accident everyone noticed money and probably our lack thereof. I was never without anything important, i always had clean clothes, a nice house, birthday/christmas presents etc. and didn't ever notice that we didn't have a lot of spare change, I just knew that if there was something i wanted i needed to figure out a way to earn the money to purchase it. This seemed, and still seems, very logical to me.

When i was younger i would take every babysitting job that was offered, even the ones from that family that the normal sane 13 yr old didn't want to touch with a ten foot pole. When i would get home i would write the date, job, and amount i was paid on a piece of paper and drop it in a tin box. At the end of the year i would tally up how much i made at each job and which ones were more profitable. I would also write down every dollar that i spent in the same fashion and tally that up too. For years i could tell you exactly how much i made and spent in the smallest of categories.

i do get to shop if i have a gift card. thanks nyc boss for giving me things i could return to Nordstroms so buy these shoes instead.

Then i was a teenager and basically on my own financially. I moved out when i was 16 to be a live in nanny for my sister while her husband served in Iraq. I was living on such little amounts of money that i had a strict budget for buying things like shampoo. It was also during this stint of my life that i started really wanting my own home. By the time i graduated and left my hometown i had lived in 6 different homes with 4 of those being during high school and two during my senior year alone. When i would get stressed out or have an argument with my sister i would de-stress by going to the mall. I couldn't buy anything but i began to love being in stores--no one cares if you are wandering around slowly and everything is nice, new and clean. Soon however, shopping became a talent of mine and not just a coping mechanism.

Turns out that i am really, i mean REALLY good at shopping. I can find everything that i have been wanting at the best prices always.

As i got older and had better paying jobs i started buying things that normal teenagers didn't buy. I went to college with William & Sonoma oven mits, a Kitchen Aid and cleaning supplies i had already more than broken in. My favorite stores weren't Forever 21 or Gap, they were William & Sonoma, Pottery Barn, and Costco.

i am REALLY good at shopping and getting killer deals

Then i discovered Banana Republic. And then my life got very full of stuff.

But, i am changing my ways.

i am especially not allowed to buy nail polish, you could say i have enough...

In January i decided that for the rest of the year i would not buy anything other than the most basic necessities--groceries and gas. I allow myself a small budget to go out with friends--so that i can still have friends--but i am trying to only eat out etc when someone invites me. And other than that, i am done shopping. I will not buy anything for my house--not even a tupperware, not anything for the bathroom (i have a stockpile of lotion/tooth paste/shampoo etc so the rule is that it has to be GONE before i can buy anything new), no nail polish, no new clothes, nothing.

The ironic thing is, up until i stopped buying things i was attached to most my possessions but now i am really good at getting rid of things.

here's to 10 more months of not being a consumer and hopefully building up a savings account again. The last six months have been more than rough money wise, but i have high hopes that i can fix it. I am so serious about this venture that i unsubscribed from most emails AND gave my last Banana Republic reward ($30 none-the-less) along with my 10% off tote to my sister so that i wouldn't be temped.

damn you uncle sam and your taxes.

my last purchases, a green pencil skirt and patterned top from Banana Republic. turns out it is really hard to take a decent picture of yourself with a self timer...

oh and i decided i am not even buying a car when i have to give my nephew's back in june. i mean, i already own a bicycle... because as you can see i am very good at riding bicycles.

i always deliver

a smattering of notes i found in my room from jr. high all the way through college.

my tornado of a room

This thursday being Valentine's, i thought i would write about love and sometimes the lack there of. Where is there a lack of love you ask? Jr. High, the hell hole of all hell holes.  A few many months ago i was cleaning out my apartment in provo getting ready for my move to the big apple. As i poured over everything that i owned trying to decide what needed to never be seen by my eyes again, i found a box containing basically all paper proof of my public education. It was full of photos, school assignments, notes, letters, and trinkets (i might have a slight problem of keeping almost everything along those lines...)

Among the many treasures i found this note that i wrote to myself. 

My freshmen english teacher made each of us write a letter to ourselves that we would get back when we graduated high school. The first sentence pretty much summed up how i felt about jr. high (and high school later)--"Where can you start about junior high? It pretty much is the worst of all worlds." (I then go on about how irritated i was with my best friend stephen because he had a crush on this girl and stopped giving me the attention i deserved. i was so dramatic. I probably should have just told him i had a crush on him instead of annoying him to death with my whining about this other girl...)

When i found this note i started to think, what made jr. high so bad? Then i found the following note:

Apparently for me, junior high was full of me picking fights over little things like "the accidental pencil stabbing incident."

I can't remember what i did to make this girl think that i deserved a pencil to the head, but i do remember one incident with her. 

This girl always thought that she was the best at everything. She played sports, was smart, and wasn't an awkward looking pubescent so really she did have a lot going for her. However, she liked to tell everyone how right she was about everything in this nasally nerd voice that made even the nicest (which is hard to come by in junior high) kid want to punch kittens. During one of these rants, probably at lunch or in some classroom when i was confined to the same God forsaken corner as her, she punched me in the arm.

Now this punch wasn't the most forceful--i mean she played basketball and made sure that everyone knew, she had to have had some upper body strength--and i am sure that it didn't leave me with bodily harm but it made my blood boil. First this girl was going to get in my face and now she had the gaul to touch me?!

Calmly i turned to her and said, "you know i will get you back, right?"

She of course shrugged it off and went on to talk about me and how much i sucked and what not and how i would never do anything to her.

i spent most of jr high apparently looking nervous

Now we fast forward to lunch a few days later if not a week. I was standing in a small group of people; this unfortunate creature was across from me and two boys were on each side of us. As calmly as i had delivered the threat of getting her back but with the quick reflexes of a cat (if you have ever been of of the fools that tried to tickle me you know what reflexes i speak of...) i delivered one sound punch directly to her left arm. This was not a weak sauce encounter like the one she gave me, but a decent--if it was a math test i would have hung it on the home fridge in pride--punch. For the first, and quite possibly only, time in my life i felt slightly bad-ass.

As she grabbed her arm with her other hand and stared at me dumbfounded, trying to come up with some snide come back, i calmly said, "i told you i would get you back."

Needless to say the boys were more than a little confused and probably think to this day that i have anger issues.

at least in high school i pretended to be cool by being in the Homecoming court and stuff

The girl and i had to interact at least a little for the next 5 or so years of school as we both went through the accelerated, AP, church seminary and choir classes. Did we ever make up? Never. In fact she drove me up the wall. the. entire. time. And for the record, i was not the only one bothered by her, just ask anyone from my sophomore chemistry class. She ruined our prefectly sound plan of only reminding the teacher to check our homework on the days that we all actually did it "Mr. Jacobsmeyer, you forgot to check our homework!"--but remember to say it like a girl Steve Urkle and imagine her waving her perfectly done homework in front of her face...

I saw her once in college. I was walking out of my apartment complex back in 2008 when her mom stopped me to ask me how i liked living there. I am pretty sure that she noticed who i was, but just like how i didn't admit to knowing her or her mom, i quickly answered her question and went on my way.

Ironically i have had two friends mention that they ran into her lately and both mentioned that i came up in conversation. One told me that she admitted to feeling horrible for how she treated me all those years ago.

And all these years i thought i was the only one that remembered.

And why would i post this for Valentine's Day you ask? Because not hating someone is almost like loving them and it turns out that after hearing--even if it was not from her--that she is sorry i don't hate her anymore. It is also good to know that no one is the same person as they were in public school.

This proves to me that there really is a God. He might have a twisted sense of humor for letting public school exist, but at least he fixes us in time for our ten year reunion. 

all my Valentine's also get sealed with wax (like most of my letters...)

But on to real Valentine's Day, i love it. I don't care that i have never been on a hot and steamy date or had a boyfriend during the holiday--it is a holiday where i get to be all crafty and gushy and no one can think it is weird! I crafted it up this year and repurposed my three favorite books, All My Friends Are Dead, I Like You, and The History of Love that met their demise in my recent flood into one-of-a-kind valentine's. The only thing you have to watch out for is when you are making a valentine for your mother and the page that you ripped from The History of Love happens to have a not so good word very prominently placed on the page--we almost had a very inappropriate Valentine fail.

you're only 24 once

I've always really enjoyed having my birthday at the beginning of the year; it makes it super easy to remember how old i was when something happened and keeps everything tidy with my age changing almost in sync with everything else. Because of this, i use my age to judge everything.

like if it is Feb. and i am single--say last year--i know that i will not get married until i am at least 25 (being this year).

or when i say that i want to accomplish something in 2013 i know that i will accomplish it while i am 25.

see? everything is simple.

And since today is my birthday eve, i figured i should reminisce what i learned/did during my year of being 24.

I:

finally have documented proof of how terrifying it is to go bowling with me (and equally dangerous).

caught my third bouquet at a wedding (third times a charm, right? RIGHT?!)

after 8 months of preparation i had over 300 images on display in my BFA final show, 

Tithing Child: A Photographic Memoir

after what felt like a million drafts of my speech were approved--i spoke at my college's convocation ceremony and showed the campus (for the 3rd time) images of my sister giving birth...

learned that i have a problem am the champion of holding grudges against past boyfriends that were asses 

(still working on that, but lets be honest, we will never be friends. ever)

survived the great disneyland flash flood of 2012 (okay, it was just horrendous rain...) while being trapped on small world--now lovingly know as 'the slow-moving torture device from hell.'

started a blog about awkward dates--probably because of that date with that kid that made up his own name, wanted to take me 'fast food shopping' for dinner, and told me about himself using his kindle since he 'forgot his book of photos that he normally uses'.

moved to manhattan--and then kept moving around manhattan--again and again and again...

figured out that peanut butter balls don't have to be boring balls, they can be dinosaurs!

(and filled with chunks of reese's holiday treats...)

went through a hurricane unscathed.

went out on a date with a Turkish American that met me on the subway and thought i was russian.

(of course there are no photos of that...)

figured out what type of guy thinks i am their type: non-white and non-mormon men

(and if i had photos of the guys who hit on me in Harlem or on Canal Street, well, that would just be weird... creepier than the comments they made to me...)

slept on 5 different couches and in 14 different beds in 5 different states in 5 months.

met dan lauria who plays the dad on my most favorite show of all time, The Wonder Years.

gave uncle sam all my money after a tax blunder

went to six broadway shows

graduated from college and got this cool piece of paper as a 'well done, kid'

ate an entire pack of Hebrew National hot dogs in one week in all sorts of interesting culinary masterpieces.

lost the ten pounds i gained when i was dating tucker

succumbed to Pintrest. i say i did it for work purposes but let's be honest, i secretly want to make little crafts and take photos of my fingernails (which two people at the mall today were convinced were fake, they look that perfect and pink right now...)

and i still don't have any followers, so you should help me out so i don't feel like a failure at something so very simple...

'ran' my first ever race

joined a very sketchy dating site that i am pretty sure is only good for hooking up and not falling love.

had the most drawn out graduation ever. 

walk in april

walk/speak in august

actually graduate in december

finally have my name in the program in april of 2013

wore pants to church for the first time (but not the last if it stays so bitterly cold in utah...)

oh and one thing i didn't do was buy a tripod...still...

i have a bfa in photography, that doesn't mean i NEED to have a tripod, right? RIGHT?!

and here's to 2013. 

It has had a rocky start but it can only go up from here. 

I unpacked my kitchen and most my room, that is a HUGE improvement in my life already.

(did i ever mention that i didn't know i had my own birthday until i was probably 6 or so? I always thought that mallory and i had the same birthday because mallory and my dad shared a birthday, my mom's was 4 days later and then mine was 11 days after that so we celebrated once for all of us. This probably is the reason why i always wished mallory was my twin growing up...)

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.

Hurricanation

there's a storm a brewin'

(Before the storm hit i managed to get out of NYC on one of the last subways/trains. I thought it would be a better option to wait out the storm with my sister's family. This turned out to be the best idea since many of the subways did not run for a full week and the apartment I was couch surfing in took in 4 other people that lost power.)

I have never been through a hurricane before. I have been through one natural disaster in my life--a flash flood--which i was in the thick of, completely unprepared. But the difference with that terrible storm, even though all of us that were involved thought at one point or another that this might be the last day the Davis family had ten living children, is that only a small portion of people were involved. The storm passed, phone lines weren't down, no houses washed away, no one was looting, and within a few hours we were warm and dry and doing okay.

you also spend a lot of time doing this. which takes a very long time i might add.

For us Sandy passed relatively quickly and little damage was done. Two trees fell, one knocking out part of the back fence and one doing a little cosmetic damage to the car, and the power went out for a day--but that was it. When it is over and you are unscathed, you think all is well. We couldn't watch tv and our phones couldn't make calls or use data so we had no idea what was going on outside of the community we were in. It wasn't until i would get calls from my family in the west that i heard of cars floating in parking garages of the Financial District (where that apartment i coveted and almost recently moved into is located). It wasn't until i was texted by my boss that i found out that lower Manhattan had no power and she watched water pour down her street, sure it was going to come flooding into her apartment at anytime. And it wasn't until i got back to work a week later that i heard of apartments getting looted, even the baby's clothes were gone. But when you are in an area that wasn't hit very hard, it is easy to have a good time because you have no idea that somewhere else houses are washing away and over a hundred are on fire, until of course you are back in touch with the world and hear of the people that came out so much worse than you.

you spend a lot of time doing this during power outages

what we like to call 'Hurricane-opoly'

The thing that does amaze me though, are the attitudes that i have witnessed in upper Manhattan. These people never lost power and could see the news. They knew that the subway wasn't running because of flooding, they knew that lower Manhattan was out of power. They heard stories of looters. They saw footage of houses burning in Queens. They knew that houses were washing away in the Rockaways.

I heard these people complain that they couldn't get anywhere because of the subway, that they were getting fat from eating so much because they were cooped up inside (with a working fridge and means to cook...), that they wished people staying in their house (because they had lost power/heat) would leave. And then i went to church were someone said that they knew they would be okay even though they didn't prepare at all for the hurricane because God wouldn't let anything bad happen to them.

these are our 'we are sad that the power is out' face. BUT we could still shop at target--as long as you didn't buy any perishables--and play monopoly so all was right with the world. 

Last time i checked the church adamantly preached being prepared.

Not to mention that we are all God's children, are the people that lost everything somehow less so?

I was appalled. 

This week though, that person had a chance to redeem themselves. Instead of having church for the normal 3 hours, we met for 30 minutes in our work clothes and then headed out to the Rockaways to help rip out carpet, tare out drywall, move mounds of soaked belongings, and give hope to people that lost everything. For me, i think it was really good to go. There is a difference between knowing of the destruction and seeing it first hand. 

this is Gloria's house, the one I worked in.

in my family we call these toys Dudes. this broke my heart a little, but seeing family photos litter the street broke my heart a lot

Mormon Helping Hands goes into areas after first responders check the stability of structures and after insurance companies calculate damages. It blew my mind that two weeks after a hurricane hit things like fallen trees and soaked carpet hadn't been removed yet, but i guess that just goes to show how bad things are. We found a women who was trying to figure out how to take care of her 90 year old mother's house. She lived down the street and moved her mom to her house during the storm, which turned out to be the best decision. Her house was not damaged in the living area but her mother's main floor and basement flooded. The main floor was a good 5 stairs up from the street and still water poured in and soaked everything. One step on the carpet and your feet were wet clear though, all this after two weeks.

All of these people are still without power and heat. Many of them also lost their cars, some just up and floated away... If you are in the New York/New Jersey area i would highly recommend finding some time to go out and help. There is no feeling like having a complete stranger let you into their home and then give you the biggest hug--like they have know you for years--when you leave a few short hours later. It makes you realize how lucky you are and how much more grateful you should be for your health and basic necessities.

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.

judgy mc-judgerson

it is a well know fact that i am a slightly (that is me being kind to myself) judgmental person when it comes to the finer things in life like:

music

evanescence vs stars

food

mcdonalds vs pizzeria 712

being hipster

that vs me

parenting

child as a cart vs bedtime stories

literature

twilight vs anything i'm reading

and of course...

photography

the worst olympic photos ever vs the new york skyline

As i paroose the interwebs i am bombarded with things that send my judgmental mind into a tizzy. Why would you put a flower that is bigger than your kids head on it? and MORE importantly, HOW did you get the kid to stand up straight afterwards and not fall over?! Why did you take your engagement photo like that? and MORE importantly, WHY did you post it on facebook for everyone to see?! Why did you take a photo of your newborn when it looks like an alien and HOW did you not notice that your stretch-marked thighs are also in the photo?!

i mean i could go on for hours about my other judgmental obsessions but for right now we are going to do a quick little session on: This is what looks good in photos and what you did does not.

Newborns:

1. only about 10% of babies look as sweet as they really are in photos when they first come out. If your baby is scaly and miss-shaped from the traumatic delivery into this world, wait a few weeks to have photos taken. I really like babies, don't get me wrong, and i love that people are starting to hire photographers to document birth stories, I'm just saying that some things are better up close and personal later.

2. a babies head is only so large, lets not try and steal the show by placing some (usually terrible and cheap) GIANORMOUS flower on its head. It is a baby after all and not a flower pot. Remember when mom's used to stick little bows on girls head with syrup or honey? Lets just go with the rule that if you had to use honey to stick someone on your kids head, you would only want to use enough to make it smell sweet and not draw swarms of animals that want to lick it off. The sheer amount of stickiness that it would take to attach the flower--if it was not on a headband--would be child abuse. Use that as a guideline.

3. If you are taking photos of your child, pay attention to what they are around. For example, if the baby fits between your legs when you are sitting on a bed, maybe you should not take a photo straight down that involves a cute baby surrounded by your stretch-marked naked thighs.

4. if you like anne geddes, look at this and think again. Your baby is not a snap pea. (and if you don't like anne geddes look at the link anyway, you will thank me, or punch me...)


Engagements:

1. No one NOT EVER wants to see you ravishing each other on the grass. Keep things classy and probably at least partly upright.

2. People already start to look alike when they get married, do you really need to dress exactly the same too?

3. Kissing can be cute when the photographer tells you to do so (they are in the right place, catching the right angles and all that good stuff), don't just kiss through your entire session, it does not look right.
*this happened to me as a photographer, the photos were weird but i felt like i had to keep shooting because they weren't do anything else... but once she started whispering (but loud enough for me to hear) about what she was going to do him once they were married--me and my virgin ears stopped photographing in sheer horror. It did not help that they were a very awkward couple...*

4. Sometimes, go figure, people want to see your face and that you are truly in love. I can understand one photo of you standing an awkward distance apart, but do you have to cut off your heads too?

5. oh and once you are married, no one wants to see most of the photos from your honeymoon--like how cute the cruise staff decorated your room that you are about to defile.


Maternity:

1. Wear shoes. Do you realize that you look like knocked up teenager when you are sitting on bridge holding your giant belly with no shoes on? Can we say "this is Where the Heart Is?"

2. Take your photos when you are cute and small and not about to pop, things look so much more natural at about 7 months than 9 and 3/4. And it makes people like me who are TERRIFIED of childbirth a little less scared. (I'm talking about your maternity photos, not your weekly 'I'm this many weeks and this much bigger' photos, those obviously need to continue until the baby comes)

3. Stand up, if you can't get off the couch by yourself you should probably realize that you don't look so awesome stuck on the ground in that position where your legs shoots straight out because there is no longer room to sit comfortable on them.

4. We all know you love your baby, a photo of just your stomach with little hand hearts doesn't convey that any more.

5. Wear clothes that fit, if you want to show off your belly, wear a tight shirt, don't wear a normal size shirt that only buttons over your boobs and that is all.


I have seen all of these things on facebook. I only have 500 and some odd friends, WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME?! I would include examples but that couple make me loose a couple friends.

And don't think that you don't judge others too, you do. You just might not take screen captures of terrible wedding photos to show to your friends once they get off their missions or google 'ugly babies' after you have exhausted the ones you and your sister know on facebook. (and for the record that means usually parents dressing their children in awkward ways or in costumes all the time, not that the actual child was ugly, i don't really believe that children are ever ugly.)

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!