I PROMISE this isn't worth reading. Move along.

So it's tired-time Saturday night. I was laying in bed, all comfy cozy, ready to read until I fell asleep which would be quick because I'm, like, tired for once in my life. And THEN. I realized.

I promised Geri a blog this week. I've failed at so much recently that I figured I had to give her this one. So HERE. This is a blog-like-thing-that-shouldn't-really-pass-for-a-blog-but-whatever.

Um.

I feel like it's April and I'm trying to think of something semi-worthwhile to post before the stroke of midnight. BEDA ftw.

Here have a list:
football sucked today
sports is like life
catttttt
I'm tired
I shouldn't be allowed to write when I'm tired
I'm tired
I like your face
poop


You're welcome.



You're welcom for that, too.
You said you wanted my face, Geri, but this is so much better.

I just fell asleep at the computer, guys. I'm TIRED. I'm an island. Leave me alone.

Hope that qualifies, Geri. I can haz macbook pro soon, and life will be so much better. :)

kvcjaiejflsabye
<3

You are so not alone it's ridiculous.

Perspective.

I didn't ask for it, it just punched me in the stomach. I mean, I realize you don't often ask for a good stomach punching, but warning can be nice. Is it too much to ask for a "Hey, I'm going to knock the wind right out of you now. It's going to hurt, but there's nothing you can do to stop it. POW."?

Yes, yes it is.

Today I've been reminded how important people are. How important it is for everyone to have a connection to someone else, and for that connection to be FELT by both individuals. Friendship should not just be felt on one end. Our thoughts and feelings do not transfer easily. I think about people often, wonder how they're doing, miss them. Very rarely do I tell them this.

That, right there, needs to change. I love so many people. I'm sure you do, too. Do you let them know? I'm not necessarily talking about people you see every day. Actually, yes I am. Experience has taught me that you can't always trust your actions to speak louder than your words. Don't underestimate the power of words. Actions can be misread or brushed off. People can convince themselves that they don't matter, that nobody cares. I am here to tell you that that's false.

I'm sorry, this post is so scattered. Basically, I want you to know that I love you. I care about your trials, happiness, heartache, and loneliness. You have someone to talk to who wants to hear it. You have a source of unconditional love and respect and infinite hugs. You matter. You are so ridiculously worth my time. My time exists so that I can use it to be there for you.

You are not alone. That is one of the most important parts of our existence.

"You were created to love and be loved. You were meant to live life in relationship with other people, to know and be known. You need to know that your story is important and that you're part of a bigger story. You need to know that your life matters."
- To Write Love On Her Arms (Mission Statement)

Remember to love each other. Remember to love yourself. And if you can't find it in you to love yourself, remember that there is someone who does. "The vision is the possibility that we're more loved than we'll ever know." I believe this to be true. I will try my hardest to keep people from slipping through the cracks, into dark places that it seems impossible to get out of. I don't want to see that happen to any more of my loved ones.

I love you. Please please please know that.

-Lindsay

(PS- I know I haven't posted since BEDA. I've really been meaning to. Sorry to come back with such a somber post. :/)

Toast Post... THANK YOU MAUREEN!!

Today is April 30th. That is the last day of April. That means this is the last BEDA blog.

Call me Captain Obvious.

At the end of every year, some of my friends and I do a "Toast Post" where we toast a bunch of things that happened during the year. Here we are at the end of BEDA, and I feel the need for some nostalgia. So...

[WARNING: If you didn't do BEDA/you don't follow Maureen Johnson very carefully, you probably won't get a lot of these... sorry.]

Here's to:
crazy ideas that blossom on Twitter.
18 things to do whenever.*
#amazonfail and #nopants
Maureen constantly underestimating her fans.
TRAPEZE SCHOOL.
the count censored. "When I'm alone, I..."
ning chatfail.

Here's to:
moving the chat to Skype, and making some great frieds.**
typo humor.
speaking in English accents... or American accents, if you're English.
everyone knowing a gay Michael.
the Wikipedia game.
singing Mrs. Nerimon for two weeks straight.
plotting to go to England and live in tents. Outside Windsor castle.
Dr. Horrible. <3
.sdrawkcab gnipyT

Here's to:
asking MJ.
BEDA buddies/matchmaking.
The Tiger Diaries.
the Big Book of Snakes.
blogging about having nothing to blog about.
blogging every. Single. Day.
(or close to it, if you didn't quite make it.)

It's been a great month. I'm really glad I did this. Thanks, Maureen, for being so awesome and sharing your insanity with us. I'm glad I know you as an author and (sort of) as a person.*** Thanks for making me laugh and giving me such great ideas for my dating life. ;) And the biggest THANKS for writing such wonderful books. Your awesomeness is epic.

See you all for BOIM!****
-Linds

*I still need to go to the store and pretend I don't know how something simple works.
**This section is mostly in jokes from Skype... sorry.
***I mean, when you get updated on someone's life every 10 minutes on your phone, you feel like you know them a little bit.
****Blog Often In May... that's right, you haven't gotten rid of me.

Marijuana sandwiches... really??

FYI- I took night time cold medicine about 25 minutes ago, so I have roughly 5 minutes before I slip into a coma. Hopefully.

Yes, I'm sick. No, it's not the swine flu.

In one of my previous BEDA blogs, I went on a rant about the news in Utah and how it shouldn't really count as news at all. Well, I'm back in Colorado now, and yesterday I heard this snippet:

"Up next: Should a marijuana sandwich shop be allowed a liquor license?"

Yes, you read that right. Now THAT'S the kind of hard-hitting news I'm looking for. XD
Do you think this is better or worse than a local breeder's opinion on the Obama's dog choice? I think it's better, but not by much.

All of these "reports" were on Fox, so maybe that's my problem. But it's not my fault they talk about the news on commercials during American Idol and Fringe! ;) These days, I'd much rather get my news on the internet. That way I can CHOOSE if I want to hear about Obama's dog eating a marijuana sandwich. Wait... what?

I think that's my signal to go to bed. Sorry this is so short, but yesterday's was long enough for two anyway.

One more day!
-Linds

PS- In case you were wondering, the shop was denied the liquor license.

Tricking guys into liking you... using plungers.

Ok, so I'll admit it: I don't go on a lot of dates.
Shocking, right? Us nerd girls usually have guys flocking to us. *cough*

The dating culture at BYU is pretty hilarious, if you ask me. TANGENT: I can think of sixteen people I saw meet and get engaged between September and April. Springtime rolls around and all you see are happy couples conspicuously flashing their left hands while pulling off as much PDA as possible. It's nauseating.

Anyway, when my sister and I moved out to Provo last year, my mom gave us this sheet of dating ideas. I smiled, nodded, and promptly stuck it in my desk drawer, where it was lost in a void of papers until we packed up and moved back home for the summer. I had completely forgotten about it, but OH what a treasure it is. I know my mom loves me and wants me to be happy and was just trying to help. I have no idea where she found this. If you're reading this mom, I love you! Please don't take offense at anything I'm about to say. You know me, I must mock. It's how I'm wired. Blame dad.

It starts off with, "Ok girls I know that asking is supposed to be the guy's job but sometime we girls have to take matters into our own hands. Whether it is for a dance or just a fun friday night asking can be a little nerve wrecking. Here are some tips from me and my friends that might help."

I have never been one to ask a guy out. Sure, it has to do with the fact that I'm a chicken, but I also think it just doesn't work. And I am backed up by the experts who wrote the highly scientific book He's Just Not That Into You. As Greg Behrendt asserts, "if a (sane) guy really likes you, there ain’t nothing that’s going to get in his way." If a guy likes you, he will most likely ask you out. All the excuses in the world can't save you from this fact.

"He's probably intimidated, he thinks you're out of his league."
"Maybe he just doesn't realize you're available. FLAUNT yourself more."
"I heard he had a hard break up two years ago, he's probably just waiting for you to make the first move so he doesn't get hurt again."

Please. I've had guy friends say they don't like the idea of a girl asking them out. They like to feel in charge. That's not to say it NEVER works, I'm just saying 9.9 times out of 10 it doesn't.

Instead of asking guys out, work on making yourself more datable:


The next pieces of advice are tips on how to ask your dream stud out. Keep in mind, I'm quoting word for word.

"something simple like hey what is you doing this weekend, well there is a group of us... would you like to come"
Sure, help me lower my IQ...

"If you both have a mutual entrust in something like working out, bike ridding, hiking, etc. say hey I was thinking about going . . . this weekend, would you like to come with me."
This one is just funny because of all the mistakes. It looks like something out of an English textbook that you're supposed to correct.

"The farther away you can stay from the 'will you go on a date with me' the better. If you have a guy bud that you are dying to hang out without outside of school just watch for opportunities, they always come up."
Yes, trick him girls, trick him! Make sure he has no idea how you feel, just drop a lot of hints. Guys ALWAYS pick up on hints and "girl code". There's no way he won't realize you're in love with him if you keep flipping your hair and laughing at things that aren't funny.

And who wants to be sure they're on a date, anyway? If you tell yourself you are, then you are. Your feelings are MUCH safer that way. Feel free to doodle his name + your name all over your notebooks. Stare down any girl that looks at him. Call him over and over again, leaving long and unsure messages. That was one magical "date," he had to have felt it too. You are now in a healthy and long-term relationship.

For a fun more formal way of asking (for a dance or even for a fun weekend, a unique way of asking sets the date off on the right track)
I've never minded this for dances, unless it gets really pukey or cheesy. But if someone asked me to go to the movies by spelling my name out in pancakes, I think I'd call the nice men at the mental hospital to take them away.

Some of my favorite ideas...
- Get a box of "Honeycomb" and write on it "Honeycomb" your hair because I'm taking you to...

- Circle your name or write it in a phone book. Then frost (yes, FROST) the phone book like a cake and put it on their front porch with a note that says something like "it be the frosting on the cake if you went with me to..."

- put four stamps on a banana and mail it with a card that says "I'd go bananas if you..." (I know it sounds strange but it is so fun to get a banana in the mail.)
Ok, at first, I just laughed and laughed at this one. But now I kind of want to get a banana in the mail. No date invite necessary, just send me the banana.

- Duck tape toilet closed and say "If ya got to go, go with me."
XD This one would actually work on me, for any occasion. It's just too awkwardly hilarious. Although I'd need to make it clear that I don't actually want to go to the BATHROOM with them.

- Decorate their bathroom like a beach (fill tub with water and gold fish, bucket with sand, palm tree drawn on mirror, etc). Put a message in a bottle saying, "Help! I'm stranded without a date to... Please help."
Ok, first: I do not want gold fish in my tub. Second: Desperate, much? Help me, I'm a dateless loser and you're the only one left I'd go with.

- Brand new toilet plunger with Almond Joys in it and a note that says "I would 'overflow' with 'joy' if you would go with me."
BAHAHAAHA!! Um... yeah. I love that it specifies a BRAND NEW plunger, by the way.

- Get a plant and put a diaper on it and a note that says "I'd wet my 'plants' if you come to the dance."
"You're not cool unless you pee your pants."



The rest is just actual date ideas, which aren't that exciting/mockable.

So what have we learned today, girls? We must trick guys who most likely don't like us into dating us anyway. Using lots of bathroom/toilet humor. And, you must send me a banana in the mail pronto.

Stuffing plungers with Almond Joys,
Linds


PS- In case you were wondering, the way to my heart is writing me a song, preferably one like THIS:

Obama is a lima bean.

So I have been staring at the "Add a Blog Post" screen for way too long. I talked to my skype friends, caught up on blogs, and then had a very weird discussion with the Cleverbot. I had never heard of this website, but it's quite entertaining. You're basically just talking to an AI, but it can say some pretty spooky things. It even quoted Monty Python back to me! Most of the time, though, it's just regurgitating things other people have said. That's how it "learns" I guess. It's also constantly trying to convince you that YOU'RE the computer/AI. Once I agreed, and said, "Your name is Lindsay, right?" and it responded, "Yes, thanks for remembering."

Some conversational gems:

User: My friend told me you were crazy.
Cleverbot: Well don't listen to that guy.
User: I don't know, he's pretty smart.
Cleverbot: Like Bush. Can't get more American than him. He's the man!
User: That's an interesting view to take. Most people dislike Bush these days.
Cleverbot: Yeah, you could see it that way. I hate it that my friends are twisting my words around.
User: What are they saying about you?
Cleverbot: They think you're really cute.
User: That's awkward.
Cleverbot: Pizza is good with anchovies.

Cleverbot: Who is this?
User: Your mom.
Cleverbot: I think not.

User: Who is 'we'?
Cleverbot: Venom.
User: You and your friends are venom?
Cleverbot: Only in summer time.
User: Do you have friends?
Cleverbot: Yes.
User: Do THEY understand you?
Cleverbot: I do, but you don't.

Cleverbot: Did not.
User: Oh, so now we're 10 years old.
Cleverbot: No.
User: How old are you, anyway?
Cleverbot: Why do you want to know that?
User: Are you a pedophile?
Cleverbot: Of course I am!
User: Do you know what a pedophile is?
Cleverbot: Yes, but tell me your views on the subject.

User: Are you batman?
Cleverbot: No... I'm chinese.

User: Are you a nerdfighter?
Cleverbot: No. I'm a kisser. Sorry.
(It clearly knows that we nerdfighters don't get any action...)

User: Yes, I like music.
Cleverbot: What else do you like?
User: Doctor Horrible.
Cleverbot: No you're not. You're nice.

Cleverbot: How large is the universe?
User: Infinite.
Cleverbot: How big is the universe?
User: ...same answer.
Cleverbot: You're mean.

(It kept asking me about Bush, so I thought I'd see...)
User: What are your thoughts on Barack Obama?
Cleverbot: I am neutral towards lima beans.
(I KNEW it. Obama is a lima bean. The conspiracy has been uncovered!)

User: That's creepy.
Cleverbot: You better believe it.
User: Are you stalking me?
Cleverbot: I am just curious.
User: Says the stalker.
Cleverbot: Yes.

Cleverbot: Where do you live?
User: Now why would I tell you that, stalker?
Cleverbot: Because its fun.
User: Being stalked is not fun.
Cleverbot: Try once more!
User: No thanks.
Cleverbot: You don't dare?
User: Nope, I sure don't.

User: Is Harry Potter real?
Cleverbot: I don't think there is enough supporting observational evidence to conclude that he does exist.
User: Is Edward Cullen real?
Cleverbot: Yes.

Cleverbot: No, It would mean the end of the universe as we know it!
User: Do you want that?
Cleverbot: No I am not a cannibal.

User: Do you know Dumbledore?*
Cleverbot: From Harry Potter?
User: Obviously.
Cleverbot: You say that like you know me.
User: Do you know him or not?
Cleverbot: Who?
User: Dumbledore.
Cleverbot: From Harry Potter?

Cleverbot: Are you alive?
User: Nope, I'm a zombie.
Cleverbot: Wow, me too.
User: Zombies > Unicorns
Cleverbot: If you want them to, yes.
User: Zombies FTW!
Cleverbot: Zombies right behind you.
User: Yes, they're my friends.
Cleverbot: Are you in love?
User: With a zombie.
Cleverbot: Tell me about her.
User: HE is great. He always brings me the best brains.
Cleverbot: Are you okay in the mind?
User: I love minds.
Cleverbot: You love Mina?
User: No, MINDS. Like, brains. Mmmm.
Cleverbot: Brains!
User: Accio brains!

Cleverbot: Tell me another joke?
User: Knock knock.
Cleverbot: Who's there?
User: You.
.....

IT NEVER ANSWERED. That's right, my friends, I broke the cleverbot with a knock knock joke that was going NOWHERE. If it had said "You who?" I probably would have said something like, "YOU MESSED IT UP!" just to confuse it.

Anyway, I seriously need to go to bed.
Out-clevering the bot,
Linds

*Note: It kept telling me it wasn't a fan of Harry Potter, so I started acting like I was a Hogwarts student.

The Rea Twins Strike Again

*stares at screen for 10 minutes*
*watches The Ringer on TV*
*reads MJ's blog on commercials, clicking every link possible*
*stares some more*

I have officially hit a wall. I have NO IDEA what to blog about today, my brain has nothing left to give. Frankly, I'm shocked I made it this far.

Reason: HA! TOLD YOU!!
Reality: She never listens to us, and she rejects me frequently.
Reason: I know, she's pretty harsh on you. You'd think she'd be nicer, considering she can't get a date.
Self: HEY!
Reason: What? It's true.
Self: What are you guys doing here, anyway? It's been AGES since you've bothered me.
Reality: Yeah, well, you kept beating us into submission.
Reason: I got a concussion, BTW. You owe me $3000 in medical bills.
Self: That seems a little steep.
Reality: Yeah, well, the ER overcharges like crazy. I may have added in a little extra, but compared to the pain you've put me through, it's nothing. Deal with it.
Self: I wouldn't pay that even if I had the money. Now go away, I'm trying to write a blog.
Reason: And failing. You should have listened to us 20 days ago.
Self: But you were WRONG. I haven't missed a single day this month.
Reason: I believe the argument was that it wasn't INTERESTING. Any idiot can write something every day, that doesn't mean it's good.
Reality: Even monkeys can pound out something incoherent if you put a laptop in front of them.
Self: I... Why am I still talking to you?
Reason: Oh, come on. You practically begged us to come back. You have nothing better to do or say.
Reality: That isn't completely true. Nothing to say, certainly, but there are plenty of things she could be doing. Like unpacking, for instance. Have you SEEN her room? It looks like several bombs went off. Nuclear ones.
Self: Just get out of my head and let me blog, and maybe I WILL do some of those things you're always badgering me about.
Reason: *snorts* That's doubtful.
Reality: You are such a tease. You never do what you say you're going to. Get off the internet and get a responsible LIFE, already.
Self: Don't make me pie you again.
REA TWINS: You wouldn't dare.
Self: Watch me.

Now, I'll admit something here. I didn't have any cream pies on hand this time. Last time was a bit of a fluke. It would be lovely if there were always cream pies hovering inches from our fingertips, waiting to be smashed in the faces of unsuspecting dillholes. Alas, we do not live in a perfect world. So I had to improvise.

For Reason, I found a bowlful of Jello and slammed it over his head like a helmut. It oozed down and into his eyes, completely obscuring his vision but (unfortunately) not reaching his mouth.

Reality got a face full of pudding, which is nearly as good as a cream pie for this sort of thing. I was very pleased with these results until he broke out in hives. I quickly realized my mistake: It was pistachio pudding, and as everyone knows, Reality is deathly allergic to all nuts.

Reason: What's going on? I can't see anything! Is that you wheezing, Rea?

Obviously he couldn't answer, and I was frozen in shock at my own stupidity.
Naturally, in their haste to bully me, they forgot to grab an EpiPen. We rushed him to the hospital and he's going to be just fine, albeit swollen for a few days.

I now owe them over $5000, by their count.

Running away,
Linds

PS- I promise, I do not have a multiple personality disorder.
Gwen Stefani: THAT'S a lie.
Self: Oh, not you again. I told you, I can't help you. At least you realize your career has become a joke. Just stop performing already.

Disastrous times in Lake Powell

A few of my frieds have shared traveling tales in their blogs, so NATURALLY, I'm going to as well.
Mine are all going to center around disastrous times at/on the way to Lake Powell. I've vacationed at Lake Powell almost every summer of my life, and I love it dearly, but things seem to go wrong A LOT there. Good times.

Oh, and for those of you who don't know, THIS is Lake Powell:

Beautiful, isn't it? I always sleep on top of the house boat so I can look at the stars. The view of the stars at Lake Powell is one of the most gorgeous things I've ever seen.

One year we shared a house boat with three other families, which means a lot of stuff and a lot of people running around jostling things. Not to mention the two boats and two jet skis tied to it's side, bumping against it. One morning I woke up thoroughly confused. It was barely light out yet, and I thought I was still dreaming when I saw the cliff two feet away from the top of the boat. We had tied off at the beach across the cove; were we trying to rescue someone from the top of the cliff? (Yes, I actually thought that. I am a genius.)

As soon as my head cleared I realized I was conscious, and we had in fact drifted across the cove in the night. All of us kids had been sleeping on the roof, and several of them were huddled near the edge watching the action. I got up to join them and immediately fell over since the wind kept banging us against the rocks. I crawled over to my friends and watched as all the boys and their dads attempted to push off the rocks while someone tried to steer the boat away. My parents were sleeping in our ski boat and witnessed the whole thing. We eventually got away and anchored properly to shore. There was no going back to sleep after that ordeal, so we made breakfast early and kept re-telling the story (as if we all hadn't just experienced it). The best part is, my sister and another friend slept through the whole thing. They came down wondering why we were all awake, and everyone just died laughing. We hadn't even realized they weren't up.

Needless to say, much of the rest of that trip was spent "diving", looking for clothes that were hanging out to dry and other missing things.


Another year, my parents, my sister and I were driving over to Lake Powell for a short trip. I seriously think it was a four day weekend or something. It was the trip from Hell. My sister was sleeping in the middle seat and I was in the back. We were about two and half hours into the drive (through the mountains) when a rock roughly the size of a golf ball came crashing through the window, right where my sisters head had been 30 seconds before. We attempted to fix it using a tarp and some duct tape, but it was no good. We had to stay the night and get it fixed in the morning.

I know tons of other things went wrong, but I can't remember them all. I just know that we gave up on going to Powell and stayed in Glenwood Springs for the weekend. Glenwood Springs does not have a lot of things to do for fun (it's gotten better, but at the time, there was NOTHING). There isn't even a movie theater. The "mall" consisted of 3 miscellaneous stores and a K Mart. Obviously we couldn't DRIVE anywhere, so we were running around this mountain town in our bathing suits, tank tops, and flip flops. A hike was considered, but got shot down (probably because my sister and I were sick). Sounds terrible, right? Somehow I look back on that weekend fondly. I guess we managed to make our own fun, though I can't really remember how.


Then of course there are the various weather problems. One year there was a massive windstorm, and our parents stayed outside holding our tent up all night. We seemed to have a talent for getting stuck in rainstorms. The waves would get white caps and spill into the boat; I swear it felt like we were in the ocean. I can think of a few times where we ran out of gas in the middle of the canyon, and had to paddle out and flag someone down. It seems like the trip isn't complete without a stranger towing us back to the marina.

Last year, my aunt decided to tell a Ranger that we had killed a rattle snake. Apparently that snake is more valuable than her 2 to 8 year old grand kids. It was there first, after all. And anyway, half the time they don't even inject poison, they just bite to scare you off. So it's a 50/50 chance on whether you'll live or die, which is totally a risk worth taking, to save the wildlife.

I'm sorry, I'm all for animal rights and what not, but that lady was INSANE.

And this has gone on ridiculously long.
Basically, I love Lake Powell and the crazy adventures we have there.

Lucky to be alive?
-Linds

Top Ten Ways to Stay Awake on Road Trips

Ah, home sweet home. It feels good to be back. :)
I've basically done nothing but crash today. Yesterday was so exhausting, I kind of had a hangover from it today.

Wow, I just tried to start this seven times, and I just kept deleting it because it was made of FAIL.

(Prepare yourself for incoherence... NOW)

While we were cleaning/packing/running around waving our arms in the air yesterday, I managed to injure myself relatively badly. There's a slight edge on the threshold of our apartment door (I seriously mean, like, two inches) and I somehow managed to roll my ankle sideways off of it. Directly into the corner of the brick wall. Yes, in case you were wondering, this IS the ankle I had surgery on. There is now a small cut and a large bruise keeping my scars company. It's so sore I'm wondering if I bruised the bone... *shrug*

TOP TEN WAYS TO STAY AWAKE ON LONG ROAD TRIPS:

10. Snack. Chips or pretzels are the best, they keep you crunching and occupied.

9. Lean far forward over the wheel, so that your nose is almost touching the windshield.

8. Play a game. Even if you're in the car by yourself. Yesterday I was playing First Letter, Last Letter with Band names. Get competitive with yourself, too. "You already used Daniel Bedingfield!" "No, I used NATASHA."

7. Make yourself uncomfortable. If there's a suitcase next to you, jam your arm into it. Twist your back a little. Don't settle in so your back isn't sore the next day. You needed a massage anyway, this is just giving your therapist something to work on.

6. Call someone. If you get really desperate, call the most entertaining/loud person you know and have them tell you a STORY.

5. Press your possibly bruised ankle bone up against something. Pain = alert.

4. Re-enact a movie. Try and remember as much of it as you can in the right order from the beginning. If it's a musical, belt out the songs. Complete the spectacle with some killer car dance moves.

3. TURN UP THE TUNES. Preferably something angry/up-tempo. Something you can't help but sing to is good. (Mine yesterday were The Cab, Paramore, a road mix I had made, The Rocket Summer, and Cobra Starship. Too bad I didn't have any Beastie Boys or Nsync with me.)

2. Blast the AC. I don't care if you're shivering and you've got goosebumps the size of frozen peas, that's the whole POINT.

1. Watch your sister almost get in a head-on collision. I don't recommend this at all, but it will definitely get your heart rate up for at least half an hour. (Don't worry, she's fine. Thankfully the two lane road can fit 3 cars across it.)


Time for bed.
I SWEAR, I will catch up on your blogs SOON.

Peace,
Linds

Close call.

Yesterday when I took my roommate Geri to the airport, there was almost a tragedy.

I pulled up to the drop off curb and was helping Geri in with her bags (she had a LOT of them). I figured I'd be gone a minute tops, no big deal. Well, turns out Geri had left a pillowcase full of random necessities (towel, toiletries) in my backseat. I went to get them, and then she had to cram them into her already overstuffed suitcases. Then I helped her to the check in station, hugged her goodbye, and rushed back to my car. I would guess I was gone about 10 minutes.

There was an official-looking guy standing a few feet from my car, and he was writing a ticket.

Me: *tries to get in car inconspicuously*
Curb Nazi (CN): Ma'am, you left your vehicle unattended.
Me: Oh, did I leave it too long?*
CN: Too long?? You weren't supposed to leave it at all!
Me: OH! I'm sorry! I was just helping her in with her bags, I'm so so sorry.
CN: *hesitates, looking down at half-written ticket*
Me: *wants to say more, but resists, knowing it could make it worse*
CN: *begins writing VOID across the ticket with a deep sigh* Merry Christmas-- or, er-- Have a nice day.
Me: Oh, thank you! Thank you SO much! Sorry again. Sorry. Thanks. *runs to car door*

WHEW. Close call. I would like to thank the Curb Nazi, who is my new best friend. You are now the Awesome Guy Who Didn't Give Lindsay A Ticket.

Gotta go CLEAN.

See ya'll tomorrow, when I'll be blogging in Colorado!
-Linds

*Playing dumb is almost always the right course to take in these situations. "Really?? I had NO idea you weren't supposed to leave your car here. The 40 signs in all directions weren't a good enough clue. You need to spell these things out more clearly."

The end of Chapter 5.

Is there a smiley for death? That's kind of how I feel right now.
EXCEPT.

I am (pretty much) completely done packing!!! Wooo. Besides the stuff we need for the next 24 hours, our cars are loaded and ready to go! And it's only 8:30 PM. I am EXCITED about this. Now all we have to do is clean our apartment into oblivion and pass our check out tomorrow, and we're outta here.

And then I get to DRIVE for 8 hours. But then I'm HOME. :)

Things I WON'T miss about Provo:
- The traffic. I fear for my life every time I get behind the wheel here. I don't know what it is, but no one knows how to drive. Turn signal? What's that? Plus there are way too many people crammed into this little college town. It takes 10 minutes to drive ANYwhere. Utah drivers, no survivors. It's like they all have this image in their heads:

- The layout. Everything is overcrowded and a lot of it is old and kind of dumpy.
- This crappy bed. It's like sleeping on a slab of wood.
- THE SHOWER. My nemesis. I only have to face it once more, and I'm DONE.
- College food. I'm looking forward to some home cookin'/something with nutritional value.
- Our closet was really ridiculous. We never took a picture, but trust me, it was a nightmare.

Things I WILL miss about Provo:
- The people. I've made some great friends out here, and I don't really want to say goodbye to them. Plus, there's something kind of comforting in knowing that most everyone around you shares your moral standards.
- My job. It drove me crazy at times, but it really was a good job, and I loved my boss and co-workers.
- My roommates get their own bullet point. I love them dearly. <3 Geri, I'll especially miss our shared nerdiness. Who's going to sing Dr. Horrible with me, and quote Potter Puppet Pals, and play potter grams? Crap Bag (aka Nyree), well, that's a given. I love CRAP. (only a few people will get that... sorry).
- I can't think of anything else. XD


Ok, time to CLEAN. Sort of. We have until 1 PM tomorrow, so who knows how much we'll get done tonight.

Love and stuff,
Linds

This may never start, we could fall apart, and I'd be your memory.

We have officially passed the point where the packing should have begun. Have I started? NOPE. Despite my sister constantly giving me the stink eye, I have managed to avoid it completely so far. Although the longer I avoid it, the more stressed I get. Curious.

Needless to say, puff levels are HIGH:

Don't worry, I am in possession of a hairbrush and a straightener, and the situation is much better now. I know I'll never top John Green's puff anyway.

So for today's blog, I thought I'd take a trip down memory lane. I have a box full of random things I've kept throughout my life, and now I'm going to SHARE them with YOU.

Rather unattractive picture. Well, the box looks nice, at least.

Many concert tickets. It's love. <3

These bandannas are from two years of high school volleyball. I decorated them myself, can you tell? We would wear one around our thigh on game days. We've got spirit, yes we do! Balla was the nick name they gave me, because I'm so ballin', I'm a hardcore GANGSTA. Oh, and it's the first five letters of my last name.

Further proof of my G status. 3D glasses WIN!

So remember how I freakishly love anatomy? Well, there is this awesome exhibit called Bodyworlds and I got to go in Salt Lake (I missed it in Denver). I don't know if I'll freak anyone out by talking about it, so I'll just say I loved it.

That is one of my massage school uniform shirts, signed by my classmates. :) I'm also holding the program from my graduation ceremony.

There are three wristbands here.
1) I saw Death Cab For Cutie at Red Rocks a month after I had my ankle surgery. I was on crutches, so we got put in the second row so I didn't have to attempt a billion stairs. That wrist band was to make sure I was "authorized" to be in that row.
2) My medical ID bracelet from my surgery. Is it weird that I kept that? I like it.
3) AQUARIUM!! Need I say more?

Some crazy origami things my friend made me when I was in sixth grade. She was Japanese. Well, I'm sure she still is (unless she went all Michael Jackson on me). We don't really talk to/see each other anymore. :/


Ok, that's the end. Hope you enjoyed?
PACK, Lindsay, PACK.

Rawr.

"We are all Columbine"

Ten years ago today fifteen lives were lost. Innumerable lives were changed forever.
I haven't been able to turn the memories off all day. I can't even begin to describe the events of that day, but I can relate my own experience. Here it is, through the eyes of a nine year old.

Oh, but first, this video is beautiful. It has a song I wanted to include in this blog. So watch it, and then start it over as you read on? The song was written by Jonathan and Stephen Cohen (brothers who survived the Columbine massacre) not long afterwards, and was played at the memorial service.




I can't really remember much of what happened that morning. I'm sure I got on the bus late, as usual. My major concern was probably the fact that I still had zero friends at this school. It's not really important.

My memories begin with an announcement: The school was in lock down. Please cover all windows with posters or jackets, anything that will prevent someone from looking inside. Until then, keep the students out of sight.

*click*

The voice was gone. That's all we got. My teacher did as she was told, looking extremely worried. I'm not sure how much time passed until things were explained, but the next thing I remember is our principal rushing into the room holding a giant black walkie-talkie, looking pale and frazzled. She explained the situation, everything coming out in one long breath. There has been a shooting at Columbine High School. We don't know a lot of details, but it's possible the shooters are on the loose. The best thing to do is remain calm. Your parents are being notified, and are allowed to come pick you up early.

She rushed back out, leaving our teacher to deal with 30 very confused and panicked fourth graders. I remember someone asking if this would be on the news. I attempted to ask about people I knew who went there, assuming the adult to be all-knowing. "What about Matt and Dan? My brothers girlfriend goes there, where's she?"

My mom came and picked me up early (I think it was around 1 PM). My sister was already in the car. When we got home we sank down and watched the news for 11 hours straight, switching from station to station. For some reason I remember being on the floor, too close to the TV. I recall a few things about the news that day:

1) The clip of an extremely bloody Patrick Ireland attempting escape out of the Library window. I'm not sure why they loved this clip so much, but I must have seen it at least 100 times that day, and many more in the days following.

2) They kept changing their tune. I expected facts; what I got were rash estimations. It's speculated that 30 are dead, many many more injured. No one had any idea where the shooters were.

3) A 911 phone call was played. I don't remember the details, I just have this picture in my mind of the camera panning around the high school, with subtitles of the call running over it.

4) A friend of the family was repeatedly shown, simply saying, "I still can't find my daughter." Obviously they were just re-using this clip to represent so many parents desperately seeking their children, but to my 9 year old brain it was new every time. And every time my sister and I were convinced he still hadn't found her. We kept waiting for the reporter to point them out, running towards each other and finally embracing. It never happened.

At midnight or so, my parents convinced us to go to bed.

School was canceled the next day. I have no idea what we did. Sometime in the days following, we went to an impromptu memorial in a park right next to the school. They had 13 crosses, one for each of the victims.People brought flowers and candles and poems they had written and anything else they felt would honor those lives lost. There were SO many people there, it was hard to move. I can still see students crying in big group hugs, mourning for their friends.

A vague idea of the ridiculous amount of offerings.

What's interesting to me now is that I felt so connected to those people. I didn't know anyone who had died. The people I did know were several years older than me. But we were bonded, somehow. It felt good to be there, a small part of the grief.

Tragedy's power to unify a community never ceases to amaze me. I have seen it time and time again over the years. This was the first time I had really seen it in full force, but even at age nine I recognized it was something rare and beautiful. Every "clique" is thrown out the window. You are all in the same messed up place, and there's something comforting in that. Knowing that you can relate to someone even when the world seems to be falling apart is powerful.

This feeling led to the catchphrase "We are all Columbine" or just "We are Columbine." We are all connected, a community struggling to comprehend something so dark and vile it's difficult to believe it's real.

To this day, I can't drive anywhere in my hometown without seeing a We are Columbine license plate, or a Columbine ribbon bumper sticker. It still makes me smile, every time.


What do you remember about this day?

Love you,
Linds

Doing stuff IRL. Oh em gee.

Oh yes, you're very clever. This blog is LATE. But I don't really care. In fact, since I'm still awake, I think it still counts as Sunday. It is in my brain, at least.

I decided that since it was my last Sunday here, I would go DO STUFF with my FRIENDS. So I did. I got back at about 11:50 PM, so I COULD have done one on time, but I chose to watch Dr. Horrible (again, for the third time in five days) with Geri. Sue me.

Among other things, we played frisbee in the dark. There was a feeble attempt at taping glow sticks (which my roommate happened to have on hand- She is the queen of random useless crap. :) to the frisbee, but our tape failed and they kept falling off. So we just wung(?) it.

AND GUESS WHAT?
I got nailed in the face. XD
Shocker, right? If there is any possible way to get injured, I will find it and attack it. Head on. (lol, geddit? *cough*)

Anyyyway, it was an excellent final Sunday. I enjoyed myself. I hope you had a lovely day as well. I will catch up on BLOGS tomorrow.

Watch out for those frisbees,
Linds

Haze of crazy.

I am so ridiculously tired. This is why:

-Woke up at 4:20 AM
-Ignored alarm
-Woke up at 5, no time to shower, showered anyway
-Left for work at 6 (the time I was supposed to be there. It was my last day. What were they gonna do, fire me?)
-Worrrrked from 6 AM to 3 PM. Crazy stuff happened. (including some lovely renditions of Dr. Horrible songs)
-Ate Costa Vida
-Got a massage
-Got another massage (all trigger points. It was intense. I'm going to be so sore tomorrow.)
-Sped home, wolfed down the rest of my Costa Vida
-Attempted to look presentable. Not easy after 9 hours of work and 2 massages. It really didn't work.
-Went to an Allred concert. T'was awesome.
-Literally froze my butt off for half an hour, waiting for free burgers.
-Came home. Talked to my brother and sister.
-Picked up room mates computer, started blogging.

Passed out.jfa;sdkljckl/s


I have been going constantly for 19 hours. Call me a light-weight, but I'm going to bed.

Rawr,
Linds

[insert title here]

Dear Sleep,
Please be my friend. Preferably before 2 AM.
Thanks,
Lindsay


It's 10:30. I have to get up at 4:30 tomorrow morning to go to WORK.
If you haven't figured it out by now, this is going to be short.
Of course, you've probably already scrolled down to see that this is short. I didn't really need to tell you that. I seriously thought I had already blogged today. I'm losing track of blogging days.

We have now entered my last week in Utah. Next Thursday I will be driving home to Colorado! I'm telling you this as some advanced warning. When I DO have time to blog, it will probably go one of three ways:

1. I don't like packing. If I have to pack up one more box, I think I will jump off a bridge. It might have water under it, and I might be wearing a life jacket, but it will be intense. People will LOOK at me funny.

2. I'm going to miss all these people so much! I feel like I'll never see them again! *cries* We had such good times! *explodes in fits nostalgia*

3. I have way too much to do and don't have time to complain or cry or explode. I don't have time to think. I don't remember how to type. What's my name? *goes back to packing*


Beware, my friends, I will be crazy. Yes, worse than usual. I KNOW you didn't think it was possible, but just accept it. It's going to happen.

Love you and your blogs,
Linds

In which our love goes on and on and on and on and on and... not Nerimon.

Mrs. Nerimon has been in my head for so freaking long, I think it's slowly driving me insane(r).

Oh, right, hello there. Just so you know, my brain is not functioning at all tonight. The rest of this post has come out in a random jumble of thoughts. Kind of a stream of consciousness thing. My thoughts are weird. You have been warned.

Have you ever just been writing in your journal, and all of the sudden you're considering the possibility of it responding? How trippy would that be? It happens to me a lot. The considering, not the responding. And THEN what if you got sucked into a memory from fifty years ago? I think I've read Harry Potter too many times.

My sister and I made salsa today. Homemade salsa is so goooood. :)

This is going to sound weird, but... I really miss going to cadaver labs. I'm just so fascinated by anatomy and loved studying it on an actual body. I think doing a whole dissection would be amazing. My anatomy teacher loved me for my giddiness when everyone else was about to barf/pass out.

Please still be my friend.

I was forced to watch Dr. Horrible yesterday, and I basically fell in love. I need to watch it again, soon. You should watch it too. That's all I'm gonna say about that.

"Oh, look at my wrist, I've got to go..."
It's time for Ace of Cakes!

Peace,
Linds

PS- Sorry this is so random and pointless. Hopefully tomorrow will be worth reading! <3

*does what everyone else is doing*

Oh, look! Several of my friends that are also doing BEDA are blogging about things in their rooms! *joins in*

This is my music poster wall:


I realize this looks slightly like a stalker wall. My defense is I don't have a lot of wall space in this apartment, so things are going to be crowded. The wall includes posters, pages cut out of magazines, CD booklets, and concert tickets. You also might notice a "Rock the Vote" poster over the mirror. If you can't read something, or are just curious about my music infatuation, ask me about it. ;)

Since this is basically the most exciting part of the room, I will talk about other things you can see in the picture.

- The 2 feet deep computer monitor. Do you need any more proof of my computers epic fail?
- Honolulu Lulu, the Build-A-Bear my sister made for me when she went away to college. You can't see it, but she's wearing a coconut bra, and is constantly looking at me like, "Yeah, that's right, what are YOU gonna do about it??"
- Stack o' CD's, for setting on fire.
- Christmas lights
- A flip flop picture frame

None of that was very interesting. Sorry.
This is practically late anyway, I should just cut it off there.

Peace, Love, etc.
Linds

PS- HALFWAY! This is EXCITING. :D

Utah has no concept of what News really is.

'Ello loves!

I'm feeling a bit sick, so this is probably going to be short. That way I can go snuggle up under a blanket and watch Juno. :)

I do want to rant a bit about the "news" here in Utah. It's completely ridiculous. I mean, they do an American Idol recap every Tuesday and Wednesday, WITH reactions from family members if there's a contestant from Utah on the show.

Basically they have about 5 or 6 stories every night, and they just keep saying "More on this later!" They come back to it. Multiple times. I don't need to hear the same story 3 times, especially when it has no business being on the news in the first place.

For example, tonight they are talking about the Obama's getting a dog. That doesn't really seem news worthy to me, but whatever, I can handle it. But THEN they have "why a local breeder thinks it's the wrong choice." Really?? Why do you care what kind of dog the President has? And for the love of Bob, WHY are you talking about it on the NEWS?

Here's a headline taken from their website: "Hospitalized Colorado Boy's Yorkshire Terrier Dog Found Dead in Salt Lake County." I'm sorry, I love dogs and everything, but the fact that one has died shouldn't be on the news. Even if the boy is in town for surgery.


I understand that nothing happens in Utah, but there are plenty of things going on in the WORLD. It's local news, yes, but if there IS no local news, move on to something that MATTERS.

Sorry. Rant over.

On a happier note, I have been improving my British accent. :) Really, it's getting a lot better.

Time for Juno,
Linds

Internet priorities and the Twitter CONSPIRACY.

Hello, my lovely little readers!

Do you use Google Chrome? I do. Yesterday my sister and I were discussing what your nine most visited pages say about you. Her top four are Facebook, her university's homepage, gmail, and the bank's website. I would say those are fairly sensible. Especially in contrast to MINE. Let me take you on a journey, my friends, through my internet addiction.

#1- Facebook
It's not really surprising. Most of us spend half of our spare time glued to our computers, mindlessly browsing through photos and vandalizing each others walls. There's really not much else for me to say here.

#2- Twitter
This is actually what inspired this whole topic. Twitter took this slot just yesterday, and I found it kind of sad. I mean, half my tweeting comes from my phone, which means I do double what Chrome is registering. I'm still not sure it would overtake facebook, but it's quite impressive. I'm even relatively new to twitter, having joined in January(ish).

#3- YouTube
I feel completely comfortable in blaming John and Hank Green for this one. Without the vlogbrothers, I would never have become this addicted to the Tube. I wouldn't have discovered other vloggers or become even more obsessed with obscure videos by musicians. Oh, what would I do without my nerdfighter (the vlogbrothers viewers are called nerdfighters... just go with it) identity? Probably things that would make me less socially awkward, and we can't have that. We need Potter Puppet Pals. We want Mrs. Nerimon and party blower solos playing on loop in our brains. That way we can hum/sing along and get strange looks from people.

#4- MySpace
This used to occupy the top spot, but as you can see I've mostly recovered from that addiction. It's been slowly declining on the list for a while now; the only thing keeping it up there is music.

#5- Twitter
I know what you're thinking. You already listed Twitter, you idiot! You're right, I did. But Google Chrome is obviously controlled by the Fail Whale and all the little tweeting birdies. And the little birdies are telling Chrome to give Twitter two spots, spaced apart so hopefully no one will notice. It's subliminal advertising at it's best, but I am not fooled! I'm on to you, my winged friends. I'd tell you what the Fail Whale is saying, but I never learned how to speak whale, and Dori's not answering her phone at the moment.

#6- The Ning
This is the 'community' Maureen Johnson created so that we could make friends who are also blogging every day in April. I am smack dab in the middle of this addiction, and there is no hope for recovery, at least until May. I tried to resist for a few days, but it's overtaken me. I am a lost cause. I have been turned into a NingBot, completely controlled by Maureen (which could be a specialty of the Fire Breathing Walrus. I'm not sure, you'd have to ask an expert). I now do whatever MJ tells me to. *removes pants due to AmazonFail* (Edit: see Maureen's twitter for more explanation on this.)

I'm sure this one will keep moving up throughout this month.

#7- The Library
Yup, I'm on my library's website all the time: requesting books, checking when books I have checked out are due, checking the progress of books that had 30 holds on them. The usual.

#8- Fancorps
This used to be much higher on the list, but I've been neglecting my street team duties a bit lately. :| Although, it's not entirely my fault. The band I supported most dropped off the face of the earth to write a new album, and the team kind of went dead. I actually miss it a lot.

#9- Blogger
Somehow, even with BEDA, this is still at the bottom. I think it's because I so rarely blogged before I hopped aboard this bandwagon.


So there it is. It's kind of pathetic, really. If you were ever questioning whether or not I had a life, this should clear things up. I'm sure you guys can relate to some of these (at least I hope... *cough*).

RAWR,
Linds

The Freak Flag is flying at full mast.

MERRY EASTER!!!

My entire life I have LOVED Easter. My sister and I started all these funny little traditions when we were younger and it's become one of my favorite holidays. The past 4 years or so we've been separated on Easter, so we haven't been able to do any of it. THIS year, my friends, we were together; and the Freak Flag was flying at full mast.

It starts with our "Easter movies." Some of them qualify, and some of them just have bunnies in them so we thought they counted (like "The Tale of Peter Rabbit" and "The Velveteen Rabbit") . This is some quality stuff, involving claymation, bears named Gadzooks, and singing about jelly beans and pickles. And we're still immensely entertained by it all.

I mean, does that not look like FUN? Ok, we know they're ridiculous. Let's move on.

After the movie marathon, we dyed eggs. There was a lot of failing involved. I'm really glad we taped trash bags to the table.

Before:

First attempt:

EPIC FAIL:

There was a video involved with this, but I don't have time to upload it.

Final result:

Annnd these are from last year, but I was just looking through my pictures and I really like them:

That's about all I have time for. Sorry it's so short.
I love Easter. I love BEDA. I love your FACE.

Rawr,
Linds

People loving people.

Yesterday, my lovely room mate Geri wrote a blog about the crazy amount of people that exist in the world, and how they all have lives separate from our own. We don't really think about that often. So I'm going to.

Since I started BEDA, I've made some awesome friends. We're all different ages, from all around the world, our uniting force being BEDA and a nerdy disposition. After another marathon Skype chat (in which I actually got to use my vocal chords), I was thinking about how insane that is. I mean, I was TALKING to people in England, not to mention 3 time zones across the US. All at once. For free. And all of these people have LIVES; relationships, friends, adventures, and their own set of problems. Now they have IN jokes with people an ocean away.

I also tend to think about this on long road trips. You've got this entire world going on in your own little car. What about other cars? They're on their way to somewhere far, just like you. Have they gotten bored of 20 questions and moved on to That Guy Is Gigolo too? Do they have the same ridiculous stock of junk food? Do you have ANYthing in common?

Does it matter? You'll never actually talk to this person. Why should you waste a second thought on them? Because people matter. That person you had a head on collision with walking down the street exists outside of making you late to class and giving you a sore tail bone. They're not just a tiny footnote in your story, they have their own. Maybe they're struggling with something and a kind word could make all the difference in the world that day. You just never know.

Another amazing thing is UnculturedProject, aka Shawn. If you don't know about him, you should. He dropped everything and moved to Bangladesh, with the sole purpose of helping those in need. The poorest of the poor. Because he shares his journey on youtube, hundreds of us were able to donate money, help his cause, and see the end result. It's an inspiration, to be sure. We got to help people all the way around the world, and THEY are definitely real people with very real problems. I wish we could see them more clearly as human beings.

The point of all this is that we, the human race, can get really caught up in ourselves and forget about the world. I'm not just talking about the big issues, like starvation and genocide, plenty of us are aware and do the best we can to help. I just think people should love other people. Everyone deserves to be loved, or thought of in a nice way. Everyone wants a compliment and feels good about a smile from a stranger (as long as it's not creepy-stalker material).

I'm going to do my best to make everyone I come in to contact with smile. Just brighten their day a little bit. And remember that their life goes on after they meet me.

This was long and scattered. I'm going to be late for work.

Peace,
Linds

Books and tiny chickens in my brain

First things first: I need to know if you know someone named Michael who is gay. It's very important... for scientific reasons.

Now, day 10 of 30 means we're 1/3 of the way there! Yesss! I can do math(s). That's the real excitement here.

My brain is all foggy, I think the tiny chickens might be invading. :( Because of this, I went in to the forums searching for blog ideas. THIS seemed like the only thing my brain could handle.

What type of books do you like?
The good kind. I love all sorts of books, really. I'm not the biggest fan of Stephen King or anything creepy. I can't handle that stuff. Once, when I was younger, some kid told me a scary story and I slept on the couch in my parents room for MONTHS. It goes without saying that I don't watch scary/horror movies. I'm much less wussy now, but I'm still just not a fan.

And naturally I've wandered miles away from the type of books I enjoy. I like science fiction to a point. I love YA fiction , obviously. I don't know. I just love books. The end.

What book are you reading right now?
I'm re-reading Girl At Sea by Maureen Johnson at the moment. I will soon be reading Speak by Laurie Halse Anderson, and I'm really excited about that one.

What are your favorite books?
This list would be oh so very long, so I'll just list some off the top of my head. It will definitely not be a full list.

Harry Potter (obviously)
Everything by John Green
Everything by Maureen Johnson
Let it Snow by the two previous and Lauren Myracle
The Kite Runner by Khaled Hossieni
The Book Thief and I am the Messenger by Markus Zusak
Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close by Jonathan Safran Foer
the Leven Thumps series by Obert Skye
The Screwtape Letters by CS Lewis
The Chronicles of Narnia
The Wee Free Men (Tiffany Aching saga) by Terry Pratchett
The Perks of Being A Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky
On The Road by Jack Kerouac
Veronika Decides To Die by Paulo Coelho

I really like books about the Holocaust.

And I really can't think anymore.

Lovies,
Linds

Migraines are made of fail.

Sometimes I feel like I'm chronicling my days spent stranded on a deserted island.

"Day 9 of BEDA, and there's still no sign of the nice men with butterfly nets who have come to take me away. I hear they have padded cells there..."

Which is really quite surprising, because some crazy stuff comes out when I decide to write every day.

Today I didn't really do anything. I had a killer migraine so I spent the majority of the day hidden away in the bat cavemy room. *cough* I also watched a Colorado Avalanche hockey game. We lost in a shoot out, but it was still exciting because I don't get to watch a lot of hockey here in Utah.

Hmmm... what else?

Yesterday I helped my sister with a project for school. We made a shadow box full of things representative of dealing with grief, and it all related to our friend Morgan who died in a car crash two years ago. Honoring and remembering her is always great.

She loved to play tennis, and Maria Sharapova was her idol, so she got the nickname Mopova. They gave us those tennis balls at her funeral.


Alright lovelies, I'm sorry this blog is so short and boring, but my head really is killing me. Maybe I'll actually go to bed early. Probably not.

Peace,
Linds

Showers are such WENCHES! (BEDA 8!)

Much like MJ, today I was struck by a blog idea in the shower.

I have had an ongoing battle with showers since around 7th grade when I hit 5'8" and realized that the majority of showers in the world were built for midgets. The shower head of every hotel I've ever been to comes up to my chin, at the highest. Actually, there was ONE that was tall enough, but it was in a brand new hotel.

Hmmm... I wonder if the short shower epidemic comes from older buildings. (My apartment IS rather old. It's all making sense now.) Maybe they didn't NEED to be tall because no one was this tall yet... Therefore, I can blame evolution for this?

Wait, that makes no sense.

Anyway, I hate my shower with a passion usually reserved for things like minivans, hummers, and Hitler. I practically have to do back bends to get my hair wet. Seriously, standing up straight with the shower head pointing down, the water doesn't even touch my hair.

Demonstrating where the water hits.

THIS IS NOT AN EXAGGERATION. Also, I seriously feel like that annoying kid while rinsing my hair. My MOM says I can do MAGIC.

Finally, this photo about sums up our relationship:

I mean, is it really so hard to add an extra foot of pipe? I'd even accept 6 inches, at least it would help. Don't people realize that most men are at least 5'9" anyway? If you are a contractor, please explain this to me.

Also, who thinks it's a good idea to put a window in a shower?

Besides the fact that she's slowly breaking my back, the wench here decides when she feels like I'm allowed to have hot, or even luke warm, water. It's hot, then it's cold. It's yes, then it's no. I jump in, I jump out. I move the head UP and DOWN.

Ok, Katy Perry moment over.

Just so this isn't a huge whine-fest, let me tell you a POSITIVE experience I had in the shower today.

As promised, I'm doing things on MJ's 18 Things To Do Whenever list more often. Today, it was working on my moves, and for some reason I chose to do this in the shower. If you think about it, it's one of the few places it's socially acceptable to dance around naked without becoming a stripper. On the other hand, the chances of slipping and cracking your head open increase considerably.

I guess it's a trade off.

Love,
Linds

PS- This made me geek out ridiculously:




(That is Maureen Johnson, author extrodinaire, responding to me on twitter.)

:D

stuffNERDkidslike

Ok, business time. And I don't mean that in a Flight of the Concords way at all.

I am invoking the powers of Cobra Starship to help me write this blog. This is SERIOUS. Help me, Gabe Saporta! He HAS come here to make me dance tonight. If only dancing=blogging.

I started writing this about four hours ago, got bored with it, and got sucked in to a Skype chat. Two hours later, I left the computer to watch American Idol and Fringe, having done next to nothing in the way of a blog.

Now I'm BACK, and I must get this done so I can go watch Ace of Cakes at 10:30. XD
Have you ever seen that show? It's AMAZING. Plus, they did the cake for the Order of the Phoenix movie premiere.



How AWESOME is that? They do some really unbelievable stuff.

(Moving on to what I wrote earlier with absolutely no segue.)

Have you guys ever been to stuffscenekidslike.com? I go there regularly, because I am addicted to music and like to laugh at (and occasionally participate in) "the scene."

Basically they feature things that are hip for scenesters and poke fun at it.

EXTRA SPECIAL WARNING!!: If you are a NORMAL person, AKA someone who hasn't been taken over by the internet and has never even heard of the vlogbrothers, I suggest you ignore the rest of this blog. It's really best for your mental health.

Which brings me to todays topic: Stuff NERD Kids Like.
Or, more accurately, stuff Nerdfighters do/love because of B2.0.
Or even MORE accurately, lists Lindsay makes when she's bored and has decided to share because she has nothing else to blog about.

Also, just a warning, this started off as a "You know you're a nerdfighter when..." type thing. So imagine that at the beginning of a lot of these.

Aren't you EXCITED?!
Let's GO!

- You vote count... Chocula.
- You have to fight the urge to end conversations with "Best wishes!"
- That's SO jokes. 'nough said.
- I inexplicably have "Own Daniel Biss" written down. I must have thought something John said about this was hilarious, but I can't for the life of me remember what the heck I'm talking about.
- You have a Happy Dance.
- You automatically put book titles in your pants.
- You hum Accio Deathly Hallows to yourself without even realizing it.
- You point to things (not in the sidebar) using a finger mustache? Maybe I'm the only one that's done that...
- It's no longer helping people, it's decreasing Worldsuck.
- You're bored at the park. What do you do? Play/sing Nanny Nanny Rich Kid, of course.
- Alternate meanings for DFTBA pop in to your head at inopportune moments (eg. The Taco Bell guy asks your order and you say, "Don't Forget (the) Taco's Beef, Alright? Nah, that one sucks...")
- Every clue to everything MUST be an anagram. Even the words in I Spy books.
- Your life's goal is to claim "Fishing boat proceeds" and "Excess golden parachute payments" on your taxes (just me again? Ok.)
- You actually TRY to get high puff levels.
- You've considered (& deeply discussed) the ramifications and loopholes to time travel for the Evil Baby Orphanage.
- You make lists about being a nerd in your spare time.

Ok, I'm done. Feel free to add to this, I want to know how the vlogbrothers have injected a little more crazy in to your every day life.

With love and insanity,
Linds

PS- My moves are hot [white hot, that is].
:)

Shoving a pie in Reality's face.

Blogging every day seems simple enough. You think to yourself, "Oh, I write on people's walls every day, plus I tweet every 5 seconds and I'm never short on anything to say. And besides, I can do anything. I'm SUPER blogger. I can type faster than a speeding bullet and flame comment haters with a single stare." You leave it at that, having thoroughly convinced yourself that this is going to be much easier than that time you promised to write in your journal twice a week.

About 5 or 6 days go by, and the inevitable happens: Reason decides to chime in.

Reason: OK, I think it's time to consider the possibility that you have nothing interesting to say.
Self: But... I'm doing it! I haven't missed a day! And what I've written hasn't made me want to gouge out my own eyes yet.
Reason: Yeah, but YOU can't be trusted. Remember your Humor Cycle of Shame? People rarely find your favorite one-liners as hysterical as you do.
Self:: Well, I guess that's true...
Reason: See! At least you can admit it. I think it's time you threw in the towel.
Self: Maybe if I just tried a little harder to get inspired--
(At this point, Reasons twin brother, Reality, steps in.)
Reality: Hey, remember me? You have things to do, you know. You can't just sit at the computer all day, reading other blogs. And NO ONE wants to see you having a dance party by yourself again. Shouting the lyrics to Sk8r Boi and doing the Soulja Boy dance is NOT going to unblock your brain. It's pathetic, and obviously it didn't work, since you're still talking to us.
Self: But it was FUN. And I LIKE blogging.
Reason: You shouldn't.
Reality: Yeah, it's a waste of time, and you suck at it.
Reason: *nods sanctimoniously*
Reality: Come study, it's so much better! Or go work out, you look like you've put on a few--

At this point, I tell them to shut up and shove a cream pie in each of their faces. Let me tell you, there's nothing more satisfying than shoving a pie in someones face. It's the ultimate catharsis. Plus, it's a bit difficult for them to keep talking if they suddenly have whipped cream in their mouth and up their nostrils.

So, my friend, I suggest you ignore the dreaded Rea Twins. If you want to blog every day, then you CAN. If you want to keep telling yourself this lie, DO IT. I know I will.


Yesterday my sister and I attempted to make orange rolls. There are several problems with this, the foremost being we have no idea what we're doing when kneading dough and we don't have a mixer. I took a food class in high school and learned how, but that was five years ago and supervised by someone who actually knows what they're doing.

Needless to say, it was a bit like Fauna's attempt at baking a cake in Sleeping Beauty.

In the end, we rolled it up haphazardly and decided they were orange cookie rolls. All the taste, just less... spiral-y.

Love,
Linds

PS- It seriously took me 20 minutes to find that picture. Well, I was also chatting, but that's beside the point.

Night spazzing

So, remember how last time I said today's blog was going to make up for my blogfail? You should have known that was a lie. I mean, come on, it was obvious. You need to learn how to spot these things.

Anyway.

I do really weird stuff in my sleep. I've always been a crazy sleeper, but lately it seems like it's just getting weirder.

When I was a kid, I shared a room with my sister. We had a day bed, which meant we basically slept next to each other. I would constantly be throwing my arm out, whacking her in the chest or stomach. She would gently place my arm back on my side of the bed, and I would return the favor by back-handing her in the face. Some mornings I would wake up on the floor between our beds, having fallen through the crack without waking up. Half the time I'd wake up horizontal on my bed, if not having done a complete 180, my covers tangled wildly around me.

I've calmed down a lot in the past 9 or so years, but like I said, the night-spazzing is returning with a vengeance.

It all started about a month ago (if you read my regular blog, I'm sorry, you've already heard this story. You can skip to the next paragraph). I have Invisalign braces, which aren't terribly hard to take out, but they do take some maneuvering. One morning I woke up and realized something was amiss. I ran my tongue over my teeth several times, and finally came to the conclusion that my bottom set of braces were NOT IN MY MOUTH. I sat up, bemused, and discovered them on the floor next to my bed. They looked like they had been placed there on purpose.

A couple of weeks later, I woke up with a horrendously stiff neck. Why, you ask? Because I had picked an oddly shaped pillow off the floor and replaced it with my own. They were jammed up against each other, the deformed one up at a 45 degree angle to the wall.

Finally, two nights ago, I woke up with my head ON MY DESK. I should mention that my desk is about a foot taller than my bed. Oh, and my feet usually rest there. That's right, I'm back to pulling 180s. Which, you would think would take a lot more work, considering I'm about 3 feet taller and I now have a wall on one side.

I feel like I'm one step away from sleep walking. It's going to happen, and it's going to happen soon. I can feel it.


So I guess my question is: How do I stop being such a freak? I get so annoyed when I open my eyes to discover the next weird thing I've done.

Ok, I've officially used up any brain waves I had left tonight.
This BEDA thing is more challenging than I thought.
BUT THAT'S GOOD.

Live life. Be excited.
-Linds

Celebratory Jubilee!

WARNING: This blog is probably going to suck. I apologize.

Tomorrow is going to be insanely busy. Actually, most Saturday's are for me because I work long shifts. Which reminds me, I forgot to mention in my last blog that I'm a massage therapist. Those thoughts don't completely correspond, because I don't massage on Saturday's. But it's all work. Whatever.

I'm in such a listing mood lately. Today I was thinking about my favorite book character's names. I love when author's use really unique names. I completely fail at narrowing things down, so I'm going to list my top 5 favorites... From Maureen Johnson's books. Yup, I'm that lame.

5. Clio Ford
I've always loved the combination of unique names with common ones.

4.Jane Jarvis
Never underestimate the power of alliteration, my friend.

3.Avery Dekker
Not sure why I like this one so much. I just do.

2. Brooks Gold
I immediately loved Brooks, if only because you think Brooke, but YOU'RE WRONG. So it's like, "Hey look, I'm ordinary. NOT."

1. Jubilee Dougal
Obviously. If you don't automatically love this name, there's something wrong with you. Plus, Stuart's celebratory "Jubilee!" is ridiculously adorable. In fact, I kind of want to start using "Jubilee" when I'm excited about something. Like, "You got in to medical school?? Jubileeeee!" It could work.

Ok, it's late, I'm tired, and I've already admitted I'm lame. I promise to make up for this on Sunday.

Keep loving the BEDA. Have sweet dreams of puppy-sized elephants.

-Linds

The Dementors are BREEDING.

IT'S TRUE. It is cold and misty outside. Many muggles are in despair, it's so sad.

Reminder: I am not an interesting person. Moving ON!

I'm realizing you may not know a lot about me (she says as if anyone is actually reading this). Let me enlighten you, my imaginary friend.

My name is Lindsay (obviously). I'm 19-almost-20 years old. I'm from Littleton, Colorado. Before you ask, no, I didn't go to Columbine High School.

One time, when I was about 3 years old, I downed an entire bottle of my mom's allergy pills while bored at the bank. I'm pretty sure my first memory is laying in the hospital, screaming for my parents not to leave, about to have a tube shoved down my throat. I don't remember a lot of details, but of one thing I'm sure: having your stomach pumped while you're still alert is NOT pleasant. AVOID IT AT ALL COSTS.

I am a major league spaz. It's impossible for me to go through a day without injuring myself in some way. Bella's got nothing on me. I'm six feet tall. *pause for gasp* My hair is in the no-man's land between red and blond; it mostly looks like peanut butter. My skin basically glows in the dark. I have kevlar and titanium in my ankle.

There, that's enough of that. It's nice to meet you. Hopefully if you DO read this, you'll leave a comment, and then I'll respond, and then we can be FRIENDS.


I'm assuming all of you lovely people are reading Maureen's blog. If you're not, you should give it a try, because she's fabulous. I have to say, I have seen that Reese's Puffs box (which she mentions, it talks about 18 things to do before you're 18), and it has always struck me as ridiculous as well. I like her list a lot better. I've done most everything on it. But I will work on doing some of them more often. For example:

"11. Go into a store and pretend not to know how something works

And I mean something really simple, like a mug or a pillowcase or a stapler. Ask for really detailed explanation. Write it down. It will give the people in the store something to talk about for a while. I did it with a toaster. “Push what? Can I only use bread? Does it just make it hot? And what do you mean crispy? Like, it makes it hard? It makes it hot AND hard?” L.O.L."

I have never done this, but I am SO going to as soon as possible. Maybe I'll BLOG about it.
I've definitely talked in a fake accent for an entire day. I don't know why I don't do it more often, but I'm going to start. This also has the advantage of improving my sub-par fake accent-ing(?).

Ok, that's enough rambling.

AWKWARD ENDING.

I love... blogging. Obviously.

Do you ever have an idea, and think to yourself, "Wow, I'm awesome. This is the best idea EVER. I bet I could cure cancer just by the sheer awesome of my thoughts." Ok, me neither. But I do get an idea, get excited about it, then get home 3 hours later and can't remember it to save my life. Or the lives of all those poor cancer patients.

That's precisely what happened to me today. I had this awesome blog idea forming on the way to drop my roommate off at the airport, and now it's gone. For good. Crap. I hate myself. Not really. But kind of.

You know what's even worse? Remembering the idea, putting it into action, and realizing it's worse than Nickelback's decision to start a band.

ANYWAY.

Day two of BEDA! WOO!
I'm going to take a leaf out of my roommate Geri's book (who is doing BEDA through facebook notes), and list some of my favorite things. This idea was first stolen from this video.

I love:
Libraries & book stores. I can sit in a secluded area, taking in the lovely smell of books, and read for hours.
Chucks.
Concerts (which, if you know me at all, you'll know already).
Music, obviously. But more specifically, bands with a unique sound and preferably great lyrics. Or ones that make me laugh.
Buckle jeans.
Thunderstorms.
Using commas to make things funnier.
Funny anagrams (Britney Spears = Presbyterians).
Using ALL CAPS for EMPHASIS. Or just when I FEEL like it. I've noticed MJ shares this affliction.
Hockey.
Socks. Seriously, buy me an awesome pair of socks and you'll have my heart.
Driving with the windows down.
Walking barefoot in grass.
Harry Potter.
Singing LOUD and OFF key.
Talking to other cars on the road, as if they can hear me.
Adding fact to the end of a sentence. It makes it true, I swear.
Qwerty keyboards on phones.
Heather. (she told me to say that.)
Yoplait Thick & Creamy Banana Yogurt. It freaking disappeared off the face of the planet, and I miss it.
Making lists?

I'm done.
Some advice, until I put words in your eyes tomorrow: Never pick a wedgie unless you're POSITIVE no one is looking.

Live life. Be excited. Steal things from Jonathan Jones.
-Linds

Blog Every Day April (BEDA)

Maureen Johnson, a fantastic author and all-around awesome person, was recently struck by this idea while shampooing her hair. She then posted it to Twitter, saying she was getting ready for Blog Every Day April, not realizing it sounded like an official sort of thing. THEN, hundreds (ok, I made that up, but many) of us who follow her on Twitter, decided to jump on the bandwagon. Now, I'm not usually a fan of bandwagons (like everyone pretending they always liked the Rockies when they made it to the World Series. Ew.), but this one seemed worthy of a leap.

So, taken from MJ's blog:

THE RULES OF BLOG EVERY DAY APRIL (BEDA)

1. Blog every day in April.

THE BLOG EVERY DAY IN APRIL MANIFESTO

I commit to this idea and am determined to create something EVERY DAY in April, including weekends. Every day, I will find something to say. I embrace the reality that there is always something to talk about, if you are willing to take the time to look for it.

I, Lindsay Ballantyne, promise to blog every day in April.

For more information, and much more exciting writing, check out Maureen's blog, twitter, and website.


I'm sorry, you're getting way more of me than you'd ever want or need. You know who to blame. If you have any ideas/requests for what I should blog about, let me know. I'm sure I'll need the help.

Oh, and I'm posting this at midnight because the news basically scared the crap out of me that my identity is gonna get stolen and a laser is going to attack and fry my hard drive tomorrow.

I think all I have left to say is...

VIVA LA BEDA!

The Tall-Factor

Ok, you caught me. I'm tall. Massively tall, for a girl. I'm not sure why people feel the need to point this out to me. Like the random guy at the grocery store thinks he's delivering a revelation that will shock and rock my universe.

"Wow, you're TALL!!"
*jumps, looks down at self, re-evaluates entire existence* "Gee willikers, you're right! I guess I should give up my dream of becoming a Keebler elf."

Seriously, captain obvious. Sail your ship elsewhere.

My favorite thing, though, is taking pictures with people. Especially guys. It's like I've taken away their manhood by being taller than them. It doesn't really bother me, I just find it hilarious. It happens a lot with guys from bands. Some quick examples:



Mikey Leibovich of Sherwood.



Bryce Avary of The Rocket Summer, on two separate occasions. "That's not fair, I need something to stand on!"



Jason De La Torre of We Shot The Moon.

And just for the heck of it, me with my anatomy teacher at graduation:



Most everyone does it. Even some that are already my height get on their tippy toes to be just that much taller.

What's your point? you might ask.
Well, mostly I'd just like to apologize. I'm sorry that I'm taller than you. It wasn't intentional, I promise. If you find the much-searched for way for one individual to give some of their height to another, I swear I'll share mine with you.

And if your name happens to be Josh Guest or Jessie Harmer (which is extremely likely, for obvious reasons) thank you for being tall with me, and not asking me if I play basketball.

Love from waaaay up here, where the air is so thin that it makes me delirious,
Linds