Dream (Sort of) Come True

 

I have an all-encompassing love for the BYU mascot, Cosmo the Cougar. I'm not sure where it came from or how it got to such an out-of-control level, but it exists nonetheless. 

I've always wanted to have my picture taken with him, and became green with envy when I heard that someone close to me had gotten to be close to Cosmo. 

Yesterday, when Julie and I were exiting the Wilkinson Student Center, we saw Cosmo and Julie was kind enough to bully me into finally achieving my dream. I was hesitant, because I knew I wasn't looking my best (hello 36 weeks pregnant!), but the opportunity was ultimately too good to pass up. 

So, world, here is the photographic evidence. Now, my goal is to get a picture of Cosmo, Caleb and Jack and then titling it "My Boys."

Don't Care How

Sometimes, people say not to look a gift horse in the mouth. Though I know the origins of this old cliche, I sometimes find it hard to follow its kooky advice.

There are so many great and quality things that I've recently been blessed with. I just scored the best job ever and school is going well; these two things particularly have been bona fide miracles, as their timings have been testaments to me that I don't always know what's best for me. I've found that my life is following this lilting tune that gives me the high notes at the perfect time and the flowing chorus when I need a little break. I finally saw all of High School Musical 2 and the entire trilogy of the "Bourne" series. Even the frigid Utah temperatures aren't really bringing the old girl down.

And is my wont, I am still wanting more.

As I alluded to in my previous post, we finally got the maternity insurance that I've been waiting for. I have had the knowledge of how babies are made, but I didn't realize that when I got into the actual game that it'd be a crap shoot. We are literally in the Flanagan Casino and I am daily showing my whole hand as I push all my chips into the center of the table. And because there isn't a light that goes on when conception happens, I am coming back to the neon slots every morning with the hopes that today will be the day.

I just keep thinking that I'll be stalwart.

For those who have seen the Holly Throughout The Ages show, it shouldn't be a surprise when I say that the real story is that I am impatient. My mind is locked in to the sound of buzzing thoughts that are barely audible and I expect the world to stop while I am Getting This Done.

There isn't anything I want more. Why I am not currently visiting the ladies' room 20 times a day is beyond me. When will I be complaining about my back and crying over the three-legged lamb? I have never desired to be so ill and cranky and glowing in my whole life.


How very Veruca Salt of me.

(Nice to Meet You) Anyway

Hello, First Day Of School.

While others are moaning about your return and even more are feeling the doubts of your familiar presence, I am trying to feign comfort. There are many things about you that are foreign to me.

I feel as if I am going to be a fake walking around Real Students. I know that I'll slip up and say something outrageous sometime today. And the worst part is that I'll be blind for awhile, seeing as I can't see a) without glasses and b) with the glasses I currently have.

You're scary, not just intimidating or daunting. You're terribly frightening and I hope that I will soon have other distractions that help me veer away from focusing on how petrified I am to wake up every morning from now on.

At least all of the new mornings won't be Firsts anymore.

I Only Want Sympathy in the Form of You Crawling Into Bed With Me

I need you to hurry up now
'Cause I can't wait much longer

This is the third time I've tried writing a post today. The other times there have been distractions and apathetic thoughts and all other manner of intimidating things - but here I am, keeping it real.

My bathroom is clean, as is my kitchen. My fridge is cleaned out and I have a feeling that no one else but me will notice that I swept up all the cheez-its from the pantry. My day off was spent cleaning - trying to chase away my bad mood.

Wouldn't you rather be a winner?

The truth of it all is that I am planning a few life-changing events to happen concurrently, which is just silly from all angles. The plan is for us to start trying to have a baby in January, while I was recently told that I have been accepted for my 800th try at going to school at BYU. Not only will we be bringing new life into the world, but I'll be trying to get myself to actually succeed in something I know I can be good at.

I have been inhaling youtube when it is allowed on the BYU network; if it's available, I drop pretty much everything and watch music videos, parodies, video blogs. Fall Out Boy, Usher, U2, Perez Hilton, White and Nerdy, Hot in Herre by Jenny Owens Young. It is a disease, I say.

Speaking of, apparently I've liked Fall Out Boy since before I knew who they were. All of these videos are revealing who the authors of multiple formerly-anonymous songs are. Loving it.

Human Dictionary

I had to explain the word catharsis to Caleb today; someone used it on "Project Runway" and he scoffed like it wasn't a real word. It is. And here's an example of some...

Even though I'm a terrible, worthless college dropout, I feel like there's some merit to my life. I made a great decision in marrying Caleb; I have had more inner peace than I have since I was 15; I feel intellectually accomplished; and I also have pretty long hair. A good person! I'm a great person!

And a college dropout.

I wish I could say that I am the next Steve Jobs, dropping out of college to pursue what they couldn't teach me in a staunch academic environment. There are times when I want to be pregnant with twins, on bedrest; I would be saving me from myself because I would be tempted to pack up my textbooks and haul it down to campus in the rain. In the middle of the night, I hope that Caleb will become rich so we could jetset to Aruba, where people don't care if you go to college. They don't even care if you can spell "college." Arubans want you to party and do it well. I can.

But I didn't go to college for it.

This is a first; it's one thing to have a caring parent breathing down your neck at any given chance about "growing into the wonderful, smart person you are" and it's another to have a complete stranger call you a failure.

You want to know what a failure is? Someone who is not self-realized.

Maybe that's me. Flotsam and jetsam in a sandy life. But I'm flossing what I can, and that's just a great life, for me, right now, this moment.