Brain dump

It’s been a while. I mean, we had Yanny and Laurel and crazy weather and a volcano in Hawaii but the best part of my week was when CNN showed a special on rescue animals becoming first responders. (Let’s be real, I was real sick of Stormy Daniels. What kind of name is that anyway?  Who names their child STORMY? And doesn’t get all artsy-fartsy and change it to STORMI. OR STORMIE.  OR STORMEE.  Let’s be real, it looks the best with an I.)

I did a HIIT workout for the first time this week and have been walking and sitting like I’m 156 years old since then. #neveragain

Just ask Lon. He’s just waiting for me to ask to watch Lawrence Welk and for me to overcook all our meat so it turns to mush or is drier than the Sahara Desert.

I also bought some grown up bandaids this week (which does not mean adult bandaids, but rather just not children’s bandaids.) It was a good deal and I needed some bad, so here we are. I  now have plain, neutral tone bandaids.  (I would say skin color, but band aids really don’t match anyone’s skin tones.)

My friend Shark Ripslash recently got married. That’s a thing that makes me happy. She’s great you guys–you’d like her. And Shark Ripslash isn’t even her real name. It’s her SUPER HERO ALTER EGO.

It’s been a while since I’ve been here and I’m just rambling, but that is a thing I do well. I also just started a instagram account (and by just started, I mean like a year and a half ago) called book review haikus (@bookreviewhaikus) and I am very proud of it so if you need more poetry or ideas of books to read or you just want to follow more people on instagram, there’s an option for you.

I think that’s everything in my head. Oh wait, we’re in the process of buying a house. Well, building/buying that is. It’s lovely.  It’s a townhouse in Herriman. And I love it and it’s stressful and I just want to live there because we’re going to have a reading loft but also I hate moving and packing and cleaning so there’s that. And I have this irrational fear of becoming a hoarder and so I’ve already started throwing away stuff and my DI pile is out of control, so if anyone has any great moving/organizing/getting your life in order so that you don’t fall to pieces tips I would greatly appreciate them.

Last thing.  Did you know that elephants have the same emotional reaction when they see a human as a human does when they see a puppy?  Isn’t that cute? Like elephants just think we’re their tiny little adorable pet friends.




Tonight my mom cleaned out under her bed.

She found a pair of boys size 5 underwear. With bicycles on them.

From when my brothers were 4 or 5 years old.

My youngest brother will turn 22 this year.  It’s been a while since he would even come close to fitting into those undies.


All I can say is that I hope they were clean.

A plea from me to the whole wide world

Over the past few weeks, months, years–MY WHOLE LIFE, you could say–I’ve been thinking a lot about the effect that kindness and respect has on people.  I’m mostly just tired of bashing, hating, being mean, having double-standards, and treating people like they are less than you.

I grew up with a younger sister who had autism. I saw people be mean to her and it made me mad. I watched a boy in elementary school break her Skip-it on the playground and recess. I watched other kids in our neighborhood tell her she couldn’t play with them. I watched them be less blunt about it, but equally as mean.  And, to be fair, I told her a lot she couldn’t play with me.  As we grew up, I watched it be ok for the cool kids at the high school have Disney Princess backpacks and High School Musical backpacks. My sister loved (in fact, she still does) both of those things, but got made fun of because of it.

And it made me really angry.

I see mean people at church. I see them at work. I see them in the stores, movies, restaurants, and other public places I frequent.  I see people treating nurses with disrespect. I see people talking down to their waitress at restaurants.  I see kids making fun of what other kids are wearing, saying, playing with.

And I’m tired of it.

So many of the problems I see in my own life could just be solved if we were all a little nicer to each other.  It’s hard. I know that. It’s hard to not fight with the internet trolls. It’s hard not to engage in the gossip at the office. It’s hard to not want to push your annoying neighbor down the stairs.

But isn’t it so much more important–in the tumultuous world (that’s my $3 word for the day) to spread a little kindness?

Honestly, it doesn’t matter if you’re a kindergartner, a high school drop-out, or a PhD.  Every single person you interact with is just a person. EVERY. SINGLE. ONE.  They have stuff too. Have you ever sat back and thought about that?  That the person who is using a million coupons at the checkstand has day-to-day struggles?  That the neighbor you want to push down the stairs might just be craving a little grown-up conversation after a long day with the toddlers?

The fact of the matter is, we don’t know everyone’s stories. And, in a lot of ways, I think that’s better. It gives us all the chance to assume the best of someone, rather than maybe the nasty truth.

Everyone, it turns out, could benefit from a little kindness and a little respect. Get off your high horse and say hi.  None of us are better than any others of us.  We’re all brothers and sisters just trying to make it through this sometimes crappy thing we call life. And we sure don’t need anyone going out of their way to make it crappier, right?

The fact of the matter is that we could all be a little kinder (myself included). There’s no need to be judgy-mcjudgerfaces. There’s no need to be rude. There’s no need to tell ourselves stories when we perceive things didn’t go our way.

The fact of the matter is that I’m sitting here crying while I type this out. I’m tired of the meanness. The hatred. The resentment. The “jokes” that aren’t really jokes.

Just knock it off, dang it! Be kind. And nice! And respectful. I don’t know if these are real answers to any of the problems that seem to plague our society today, but they don’t seem like they’d do any harm.

I’m begging you: Just think a little bit before you act or react or judge. And be a little bit kinder to everyone. For me? Please?


This Week in Public Transit…

I haven’t been as good at riding the Trax to work this year. Adding crossing the street to my daily commute has made it infinitely harder, or so it seems.  This week though, I rode the train nearly every day! And, oh boy, did I meet some weirdies.

On Wednesday morning, I sat down, and much to my chagrin, the man across from me felt the need to talk my ear off.  First off, he smelled like he’d been smoking some of the marijuana (a smell I have come very familiar with in 2016 due to the fact that smoking marijuana is a common occurrence in my apartment complex). Second of all, he mumbled, so he was hard to understand/hear.

It started out innocently enough–he complimented my personality-filled glasses, following up with a standard enough question: Where did you get them?

When I responded that I bought them online, I got an earful about how you can’t buy things that match the things you like online. Like you can’t buy baseball things online if you like baseball, or colorful things if you like colorful. Because the internet is ruining our lives. (At this point I was slightly confused because I bought my glasses online and I love them…so where this rant came from I’m not sure. Probably the marijuana.)

Then he started to tell me about how technology is ruining our interpersonal skills.  Because all he wanted for Christmas from his girlfriend was a handwritten love letter. And she really disappointed him because she didn’t write one. She bought him a gift.

Which somehow lead to him telling me about why he believes in Jesus and asking me if I do too (which, the answer is yes, in case you were wondering). And then leaping into how much he loves the constitution and how he dropped out of school in 8th grade and then began studying the constitution. “I literally tore it apart,” were his words–which I definitely hope weren’t true. It seems silly to rip up something if you want to study it.

Then he told me all about how he is on the Do Not Fly list either because he refused “the naked body scanner” at the airport OR because he has an uncle that lives in Israel that he calls a few times a year.  THE MOST CONCERNING PART OF THIS PORTION WAS THAT HE THEN INFORMED ME THAT HE ISN’T A TERRORIST.  I just feel like if someone tells you that, then they automatically become creepy.  I don’t know why. It’s just the way it is.

I was very grateful when he got off the train. Because weirdy.

But I didn’t die or get proposed to and I call that a win.

Tick-tock–not a bomb

Thanks to Facebook’s memories feature, today I saw that I started college 8 years ago today.  The pictures from that day are awful. My face is blotchy. I’m doing my best to smile for the camera and not burst into tears.

Want proof?



There I stand, in Old Heritage Halls just trying not to cry my eyes out just long enough for my parents to snap this picture.  You can even see the tissue in my hand for proof!

The next 8 years held good times and bad. I graduated from BYU four years later with a bachelor’s degree. Three years after that, I graduated again–this time from SJSU with a Master’s degree.

I’ve lived in 7 different houses. In 3 different cities.

I’ve seen 5 different therapists–and only graduated from therapy once.

I’ve traveled to 6 different states and four different countries.

I’ve had 6 different jobs–Ice cream scooper, Student manuscript processor, Greeting Card writer,  Office assistant, Preservation Technician, and Collection Care Technician.

I’ve kissed one boy and subsequently married him.

And I’ve made lots of friends. Lots of lifetime (I hope!) friends.

There’s been lots of growing and stretching and crying and laughing. Lots of jumping and dancing and cookie-baking. Some coloring books and riding roller coasters and taking selfies and running 5ks. Lots of late night talking when I should have been sleeping, and lots of sleeping when I should have been doing…well, realistically lots of other things.

Looking back on these past 8 years, makes me proud of myself. 8 years since I left high school. 8 years since I started college. 8 years since I officially declared myself an “adult” and had to start adulting.

The past 8 years have brought a lot of change. And I’d say the majority of it was really good for me.  There have been some terrible parts (including some bad roommates, some not eating, some crushed dreams and some broken-ish hearts.)  But all in all, I’m real proud of the person these 8 years have shaped me to be.  I’m not perfect–far from it, in fact–and neither is my life, but I’m finally starting to be comfortable with who I am.  And who I want to be.  And I like that.  A whole dang lot.

As I sit here and think about how far I’ve come since that real attractive picture of me (read: hideous) was taken on the day I began adulting, I’m happy to say that I turned out okay. Some days, I feel like I’m drowning. Other days I feel like I can jump off the diving board into the deep end. And don’t we all feel that way?  Isn’t in funny how life works like that?

And at the end of the day, all you can really do is sit back and say–“Well, today happened. I wonder what tomorrow is going to be like.” Sometimes I laugh when I say that. Other times I cry. Other times I crawl into bed, exhausted, before I have the chance to think about my day.

I don’t know where I was going with this, and I always feel like I should steer away from not silly posts, because I feel rambly and uncomfortable and wonder if it’s even worth posting.  I had no idea that looking at that sad, sad picture of little sad me was going to trigger so much introspection and remembering.  And I just wanted to document it somewhere.


I’m baaaaaack

It’s been a while. And I’ve kind of missed being in the world of blogging.

I have a lot to say about that cute boy you last heard about me kissing.

I probably have some embarrassing stories to tell.

I might even be able to teach you about the wildlife of South Salt Lake–which it turns out is pigeons and they’re nesting on my balcony and it’s gross.

I might want to join a writing group. Or a book club. Or start an etsy shop.  Or bake all the cookies in the world. And you’re welcome to come right along with me.

But for now, I just wanted to reassure you (because I’m sure I’m the center of your universe) that I’m alive and well.  The end for now.

Kiss the girl

Hello friends. It’s been a while. I know.  But, part of that was because I couldn’t remember the password. And part of that was because I have just been busy with my whole life.  There’s a lot that’s happened. I finished my e-portfolio for grad school, I have been working full time, I got a cold, just a whole bunch of things.

But, this is a funny story that the internet needs to know. Because awesome and awkward and just plain Liz.

One time this boy {said boy is another story for another day} who I’d been spending lots of time with asked if he could kiss me.  And I freaked out.

For those of you who know me well, this doesn’t come as much of a surprise.  Physical touch isn’t my favorite thing in the universe. In fact, I get real awkward about it real quick.  Hugging: terrible.  Random girl deciding to play with my hair during church: completely unacceptable.  Cuddling, close sitting, kissing: Bad news bears.  (Please note, that I am doing drastically better with all of these things than I was a month ago. But knowing how uncomfortable they made me is important.)

Back to the point, though.  So, I had freaked out.  And by freaked out I mean I said yes, but then covered my face with my hands. Not quite conducive body language for kissing.  Poor boy.

So, after what seemed like one thousand minutes but was probably only not even a minute, the boy who shall not be named talked me out of hiding and kissed me.

YOU GUYS.  THIS IS NOT A BIG DEAL BUT IT ACTUALLY TOTALLY IS.  See, here’s the thing. I’m 25 years old.  And until roughly a month ago was un-kissed. (Which, for the record, you should NOT tell people on the TINDER. They will want to come down or up from whatever shady college town they are living in and have the honor of kissing you. This is not okay and also slightly creepy. But not as creepy as offering to go bathing suit shopping as part of the 12 hour date that a boy had planned. But, irrelevant.)

Also, this detail is important: MY 2015 goal was to kiss a boy on the face.

So, after said unnamed boy had kissed me, he reminded me that we had just accomplished my goal for 2015. I got this big old grin on my face. Because we did!

And so, what did I do?  I gave him a high-five. I felt like one of those totally oblivious girls in chick flicks who have no idea how to even be alive.  A  BOY JUST KISSED YOU SO YOU GAVE HIM A HIGH FIVE??? SERIOUSLY LIZ?  SERIOUSLY?

A natural response to just having been kissed, right?

If you actually said, yes, you probably should rethink that. The high five wasn’t the worst thing I could have done. BUT, the right thing would have been to kiss him again.  But I didn’t. He got the high five. The universal sign for “good game” or “nice job”.  And then we jumped in circles for a baby bit and kissed again and that’s the story of my first kiss ever in the whole entire universe.

P.S. I was mortified about the high five at first, but now I just decided to own it because it’s a pretty good first kiss story.