Being Mormon

Mormonism has been in the spotlight for some time now. Some good, but mainly bad. I usually ignore most comments about it (especially if anyone calls us a "cult") because people who make comments about my religion MOST LIKELY have never actually studied my religion or have not taken the time to listen to members.

Anywho, like I said, I don't really get bothered but I found this article about "Young Mormons".

http://www.nytimes.com/2011/10/27/fashion/young-mormons-find-ways-to-be-hip.html?_r=1&pagewanted=all&smid=fb-share

This article is RETARDED. Most of the people that were interviewed don't sound like they're active and if they are... then they're point of view about the church is a little weird.

Here is something that really bothered me:

Rebelling, If Only Just a Little

 

WHAT THE CHURCH SAYS

Many adult Mormons follow the practice of wearing the temple garment, which for men, means long boxer briefs and a scoop-neck T-shirt and, for women, knee-length shorts and a top with cap sleeves.

HOW TO GET AROUND IT

For men, tank tops are out, but you can stay on-trend in a button-down plaid shirt, rolled selvedge jeans and boat shoes. For women, one popular option is the “Zooey Deschanel look” — ruffled blouse, bow collar and a high-waisted pencil skirt. 

Me: JUST BE MODEST. PERIOD.

WHAT THE CHURCH SAYS

Mormons are told not to “disfigure” themselves “with tattoos or body piercing.”

HOW TO GET AROUND IT

Cover up the tattoos or at least try a compromise, like getting a tattoo of a beehive, a Mormon symbol of working together for the common good. 

Me: NO TATTOOS OR BODY PIERCINGS. Even if you get a picture of the prophet on your back, it is still NOT appropriate. 

WHAT THE CHURCH SAYS

No beards on missionaries or Brigham Young University students.

HOW TO GET AROUND IT

An allergic reaction to shaving, demonstrated by razor bumps, can score you a “beard card” at B.Y.U.

 Me: I DARE you to come to the Honor Code Office. See how "easy" it is to get a beard waiver. 

WHAT THE CHURCH SAYS

No consumption of alcohol, even at social functions.

HOW TO GET AROUND IT

Drink Pellegrino and don’t bother to correct other party guests who assume you are in recovery.

 Me: Just drink water, so you can stop being fat.

This article is annoying. People are annoying. I'm tired and want to go home and eat.

This made me laugh out loud.

So Tired

I think one of the biggest reasons I blog is to help keep myself awake at work. I'm not bored or anything, I have PLENTY to do. I just ate lunch, so my brain kicks into "napping" mode. I've always thought this was weird because my body responds well to a stable routine. I (usually) wake up fine at 7:00 AM since my body is use to it, and I (usually) don't get hungry till about 12:30 which is when I take my lunch. I also use the bathroom around the same time everyday. So here's my question, why do I get tired randomly during the day when I NEVER take naps. And by never, that doesn't include Sundays. Anywho, it annoys me because all I want to do is slam my face on my desk and pass out until someone notices.

So this morning, Michael and I had an interesting discussion about the birthrate in the United States. A couple years ago I was in the 1 credit political science class and the teacher showed this clip about how races with large birth rates will dominate the world in about 50 years. She said that the lowest a birth rate can be before the population "back-tracks" is 2.0. Most first world countries average around 1.5. I think France had the lowest at 1.1 (or Japan... probably Japan). The number signifies the number of children per household (or family). The United States has 2 kids per family, meaning that they replace the parents without adding anything. In France, couples only have about 1 child, meaning that only one parent is being replaced. It's simple math (which I suck at):

2=2 - you replace the people that die, but your population doesn't grow
1=2 - you only replace one person that dies, so your population goes down


Anywho, another interesting fact I learned is that the only reason the United States has a 2.0 birth rate is because of the minority populations (mainly hispanic). So in 50 years, about half of the U.S. population will be hispanic :D. Good thing I went to college now... I probably wouldn't have been able to get a scholarship since hispanics won't be the minority soon.

Another interesting fact is that the Muslim population has a birthrate of 8.9. Yes, 8.9. The video my professor showed in class was pointed toward explaining how first world countries need to push for a higher birth rates or else the "mixture" of races will vanish. We'll only be either Muslim or Hispanic.


It's funny how hypocritical I make myself sound (since I should, by BYU standards, have 2 kids already). Yes I want kids, but I think that waiting another 2 years before we start will be fine? Yes. Sounds great.

I have puppies to raise.

Funny Pictures

I found these AFTER I posted my last post:

Loser hipsters, get a life.

At Work... Alone

No one is here. I'm sitting at my desk trying really hard to stay busy. Linda, my boss, and the afternoon student secretary, Megan, are both out. The counselors that have offices in the main office are gone. Larry, head honcho, is here, but he keeps walking in and out of the office. I'm so bored..............

Anywho, being left to my thoughts leads to either genius ideas or a list of things that annoy me. Today, unfortunately, the latter has happened. I just read an article in the Daily Universe about hipsters. I don't know why, but my blood boils when I hear that word. My blood boils when I see people who try really hard to be described as that word. If you consider yourself a hipster, stop reading now. If you consider yourself a hipster and don't mind being offend, keep reading.

Basically the whole thought of a hipster makes me sick in my stomach. How are those people able to function in society normally? Oh wait, they don't. In my opinion, it seems that all they care about is how to NOT fit into society. I once read this quote that made me giggle:

"I'm just trying to be different, like everyone else."

I've always been amazed at how one sentence could expose people like hipsters so thoroughly. So many people try so hard to be like hipsters... and I don't understand why. Why would you want to wear thick rimmed glasses when you don't have to? You look like a retard. If you google "hipster", most of the images that come up have people with those stupid glasses. Newsflash: YOU DON'T LOOK INTELLIGENT.

douche bag example #1

 And maybe the "intelligent" aspect of the glasses isn't what they're looking for. Maybe they WANT to look like huge douche bags. If that's the case, congrats, you win.

Another thing that bothers me is a hipster's obsessive nature with listening to bands that no one knows about. I'll admit, my late years of High School and early years of College were filled with band seeking. It wasn't till after I got over that, that I realized how exhausting it was. And honestly, most of those bands sound the same. It's all the same nasty noise (they come out with gems every now and again). I usually got a headache from listening to all that crap which then got so bad that Britney Spears started to sound like the Tabernacle choir in comparison. I feel like the only reason hipsters do that is to feel like they have physical evidence of their "hipsterness". I hope they know, most people do not honestly give a rats butt about how they know 50 obscure, awful bands.

Finally, the things that irritates me the most (I think mainly because I work in the Honor Code Office) is a hipster's obsession with hair. They need to have it, and they need to have a lot of it. It seems like the hairy you are, the greater claim you have to the title "hipster". Let me make a point:

VERY handsome and clean shaven

pure YUCK

You know, sometimes I feel bad for hipsters. They spend their entire existence working so hard to be different with no obvious advantages. Women hipsters have to compete not only with other girls, but with guys to see who has the tighter jean/legging. Men hipsters probably spend their entire day wondering if their private parts will ever grow back. I'm not really sure how to handle this increasingly annoying problem... maybe the following:

                                  1. Ignore them (they only exists to get attention)

                         2. Kill them

The first might lead to less criminal charges, but the second would be very satisfying.

Babies

No, I'm not pregnant. But looking on pinterest has made me want a baby girl SO BAD. Maybe someone in my family should have a baby girl (hint hint Jennifer Orgill...) :).

How beautiful is this girl?! I want to dress my baby girl in pretty dresses...

But then again, I want to teach my daughter that what is outside is less important than what is inside. I read this blog/article a while ago saying how our society, from the beginning of a girl's life, focuses on her beauty (or lack thereof). Whenever we see a cute little girl, the first thing we mention is how cute she looks, or how pretty her hair is. We never ask them questions that trigger brain activity (but then again, I would probably never ask a 5 year old what she thinks about the meaning of life). But for young girls, around 8-10, no one ever asks them what books they like or what they think about certain topics. Michael use to be a primary teacher for 11 year old's, and I had to restrain myself from telling the girls how cute I thought their dresses were. 

It's difficult, so my solution is to not talk to children. Anywho, back to pictures of cute girls (I'm not a pedophile):

I hope my daughter has blue eyes and dark hair. My dad has blue eyes... and Michael has blue eyes, so maybe?

How precious is she?!

Those eyes

So beautiful and innocent

Love her cute outfit. I want to dress my baby girl in pretty clothes... 

Chunky cheeks and chunky lips

Basically, baby girls are the best.

If I ever get the chance to be a mama, I want my baby girls to be named Evelyn and Elayne. Evelyn I've liked since I was young and Elayne I got from a book I'm reading right now called the "Wheel of Time". I better have 2 girls, that's all I'm sayin'. 

Running

I keep hearing these stories about people finishing marathons:

She finished a marathon days before her due date. Then she gave birth. 

This guy is 100 years old. 

I breath heavily after climbing the stairs.......

Halloween Decorations

This post is mainly for me. Pinterest is fabulous, but one thing that I wish it had was a way to organize your boards (if anyone knows how to do this... let me know). I wish I could make sub categories in my board, but w/e. I'm going to post Halloween Decorations I'm GOING to be working on this weekend. THIS. IS. HAPPENING.

Maybe with Halloween colors? Then I can reuse the balls with different pin colors... 

Love this

This is cool

This seems REALLY easy. And cheap.

Make ghosts? Or a witch? Michael always has socks on the floor... maybe this will persuade him to pick up his socks

Cutes

I want to make these... maybe

Different colors?

My house WILL be decorated for Halloween.

Gratitude

At work I get some downtime, and one of my favorite things to do is visit this blog: http://justlittlethings.net/.  I heard that there are some blogs like this one, but the reason I like this one so much is because of how simple the design is. There are no distracting pictures or weirdo comments (there are comments.. but they're little).

Some of my favorites:

I recommend visiting the site. Anywho, not sure if I mentioned this, but Leia went to go get scooped out this weekend. She had surgery on Friday and we got to pick her up Saturday morning. Poor baby girl has stitches on her belly. The vets said to make sure she's relaxed and doesn't run around too much or play too hard... that just goes to show that they have NO IDEA what kind of dog she is. Basically, I've been expecting to see her guys hanging out of her stomach. She licks her stomach all the blasted time, runs up and down stairs like the building is collapsing, and attacks Luke whenever he has something in his mouth (which is always). We tried to put the cone on her head, but the first time was HORRIBLE. 

I wasn't planning on sharing the whole story, but it's pretty entertaining. So Michael and I decide to have a short date night and go see Captain America at the dollar theater. We decide to leave Luke in the garage and Leia in our bedroom (you can already see where our logic is flawed...). So we have a great time and come home to a quiet and peaceful home. We walk into our bedroom and Leia is innocently resting on the floor. I get ready for bed and then go to sit on my side, but I notice that it's moist. Michael, being as timely as he is, notices that there is a giant wet spot on the ground. Leia had decided that being potty trained was for losers, and let me tell you, she's no loser. She peed in a couple different spots on the carpet and decided to share that love on my side of the bed. Great. Dog.

Well, we finally clean everything up and then notice that she keeps licking her stupid stitches. We finally decide to get the big guns out and put her cone on. 

Oh. My. Gosh. 

I was already near breaking point stress level wise, but this just broke me. It took us about 20-25 minutes to get the stupid thing on her neck, but Leia has a tendency to loose control of her bladder when she's excited or scared. She peed again. On the floor. And this time, on Michael's side of the bed (I said a little prayer of thanks that it wasn't my side again). But this time we couldn't get that mad, because Leia was so traumatized by the whole experience that she was stiff as a board, probably wondering why we were deciding to torture her with the cone. It was hilarious. She would not move for anything, and she even placed herself so that her back was toward us like some stubborn child. That made me feel better. Until I had to fix the stupid cone. She had one part of the cone sticking out, so I took it upon myself to cut it so that she wouldn't bump into everything. I get the scissors down to the very bottom of the cone, and Leia decides to leap forward, managing to rip the cone off her head.

Everything after that was a blur... I think I remember seeing lights, some blood (probably from my eyes, since my head was about to explode), possibly some pee again.

Yay for cones. And psycho dogs.

Decorating

Pinterest and I have a very strong love/hate relationship. I love looking through all the cool things that people put up and imagining how things would look if I did them. I hate that I never have time or when I do have time, I just don't care anymore. I've found that I've developed a patterned set of responses when it comes to decorating or cooking.

#1. I see it on Pinterest

#2. I see myself making it

#3. I make a list of all the supplies and I schedule a time to make it

#4. I finally get time to make it

#5. I stand in front of the wall (or stove)

#6. My stress levels start to rise

#7. I start to forget why I so desperately wanted to do this

#8. I start to think about all the other fun things I could be doing

#9. I get on Pinterest

#10. See #1

It's a vicious cycle that has yet to break. Sorry house, you will never have cool crafts to cover your bare walls. Sorry stove, only Michael likes you.

Moody

I've been kinda moody today (if you ask Michael he might laugh and say that I'm moody all the time). But today I just feel weird. I guess this whole week as been weird really. Well not weird, just off.

So Sunday started with a blast... literally. Well Conference was actually amazing, but Michael and I both got the stomach flu. Michael got sick before I did, and his sickness was a lot more violent (note the word blast at the beginning).

Basically this... but not rainbows. 

My poor baby hubs had this little episode happen a couple times during the night. I was feeling fine, even after hearing him wretch in the bathroom, until around midnight that same night. My stomach was pretty upset, but I just tried to ignore it. Well let me tell you, if your stomach has something to say, it'll say it. And so I had my face time with the toilet later that night. The next morning, Michael felt pretty bad still but he was done with all the nasty stuff. I felt like I got hit by a bus. My entire body was extremely sore and achy. Basically Monday was spent sleeping, waking up delusional, falling back asleep, waking up to eat a cracker, and sleeping. 

Tuesday was a little different... Michael was better enough to go back to school and work. I, on the other hand, was still pretty out of it and sore. I progressed though, I was able to eat 2 crackers. I joke around about getting sick and losing weight... but then I actually get sick and hate it. 

Wednesday started out awesome. 

That's the face I had all day.

Until my basketball game... don't get me wrong, I LOVE basketball and I LOVE my team. So here is what happened... Michael and I are playing on a co-ed team and in the beginning of the game, our team gets called because one of our guys knocked over a girl. I honestly don't remember everything that happened... but I, at that moment, thought all the justice of the world fell. I decided to take it upon myself to right the wrong that was made against my team and flop for a foul. (you can already see where my logic was flawed). The very next play begins and some red head from the other team comes flying down the court. I think he was being followed by Michael.. I forget. Anywho, I strategically decide to move in front of him. Well kids, when something that is moving really fast collides with something that isn't moving at all, the object that is not moving gets hurt A LOT more than the object that is moving. I finally was able to learn something from Physical Science class during a basketball game. Well, I "flopped" to the ground trying to get a call and fell pretty hard on my hip. To my surprise, no call was called! Not one dang whistle was blown. I laid there, stunned at the injustice. And then my leg started to hurt. I got up, and stumbled right back down because my muscles weren't connecting with my bone. Basically I crippled myself while trying to cheat into getting a foul. 

Karma.

Anywho, the rest of the week was fun. Except for the fact that my baby mama Amara had to go to the hospital. She's beautiful and seven months pregnant; in other words, she's beautifully seven months pregnant. She's been doing well (as far as I know), but I still wanted to send some positive thoughts her way:

Love you Amara, Mei Le will be perfectly fine and perfectly beautiful :).