The Grad School Time Bubble

I loved reading the Harry Potter books when I was a kid. So, I don't know why it came as a surprise to me that I am loving the fantasy fiction world.

Two summers ago when I was driving to Canada and back, I decided that I needed a good long series of books to listen to on my lone journey across the vast western United States. I have crossed paths with a number of nerdy friends in my life, and it seemed as if each had told me to read this series called ... something with time in the title. The circle of time? Or something like that. Oh yeah, the Wheel of Time. I had never even had desire to read them because there are 14 books and they have cover art that looks like this:

and they range from 650 to 1000 pages each. You can see why it was a really hard sell for all my nerds. I was desperate with a summer of more than 60 hours of driving a head of me, I needed something to sustain the trek with me. So, I gave bought the first book and committed myself to probably the longest relationship of my life (if you don't count the characters on Grey's Anatomy).

Now, a year and a half later I have finished the whole series plus a few others. Abashedly, I will list them below:

Wheel of Time series 1-14 (462 hours)
Ruby Red series 1-3 by Kerstin Gier (31 hours)
The Lunar Chronicles 1-3 by Marissa Meyer (44 hours *Not including the latest release this week, I haven't listened to)
Dragonlance Chronicles 1-3 by Margaret Weis & Tracy Hickman (52 Hours)
Mistborn Series 1-5 by Brandon Sanderson (105 hours)
Elantris by Brandon Sanderson (27 hours)
Starlight Archive series 1-2 by Brandon Sanderson (94 hours)
The Belgariad series by David Eddings (10 hours **I've only listened to the first one)
______________________Grand total = 825 _________________

In my defense, I listen to them at 1.5x speed so I only literally listened to 550 hours. And over an 18 month period is only 30 hours a month. I feel like this admission is on the verge of impressive but leaning more toward embarrassing.

All of this is a long segway into a perfect analogy I discovered today.

So, in the Mistborn books, there are these people who are born with the ability to transform the metals inside their bodies in order to do super human things. They call it burning a metal. One of the metals that can be burned is called Cadmium, which would produce a time bubble around the person burning the metal. Inside the bubble, time would appear to be moving normally but time has slowed so those outside the bubble are moving so fast it's a blur.

I have decided that grad school is like a time bubble. While you're in it life is this weird slow motion but still normal life and everyone in your life is outside the bubble just moving at these warp speeds achieving all these amazing things.

Because being in college for 10 years really messes with a person's psyche. Living on ramen, ddp, doing homework, and never knowing what your schedule will be semester to semester does not lend to feeling like an adult.

My hope is that when I get done with school and get an adult job, the time bubble will go away and maybe I'll even end up at my dream job.

Papa Smurf..As He is Called in my Phone

Earlier this week, I woke up to the sound of lawn equipment outside my bedroom window. My thoughts instantly went to my dad. For my entire life my dad has done the lawn. He loves the bit of yard they have and takes pride in cultivating it.

While my dad is a public school teacher, he also does lawns on the side. In fact, for my childhood he had his own lawn business "Green Akers" before he went back to school to become a teacher. This has had an effect on me and my life in so many ways.

I know this is nerdy, but bear with me...I have been studying a theory called attachment theory quite a bit this semester. The gist of it assumes that the way a baby's  primary caregiver attends to them will ultimately lead the child to develop an understanding of self and others within interpersonal relationships. The child could end up secure, avoidant, or ambivalent and this attachment style could follow the child into future romantic relationships. While doing all this research I would try and remember pieces about my childhood and my "caregiver." As it turns out, my dad is in most of my early memories. My mom worked early and since my dad was an self employed, he would get us up and ready in the morning.

I have memories of him splashing (probably sprinkling) water on my face when I would refuse to get up in the morning. I can see like it was yesterday, him sitting at the table with us eating cereal, making a Donald Duck sneeze which projected his rolly chair across the kitchen. I remember going with him to the store when my sister was sick to get pedialyte and then watched as he rocked her to sleep. And how on Thursdays, he would pick me and my brothers up from elementary school so we wouldn't have to take the bus home but my first grade brain mixed up Thursday for Tuesday and I ended up waiting for hours for him but I knew he'd come. I loved it when he'd let me go with him when he was running an errand so we could just talk. I have so many memories of him taking care of me, and love him so much for it.

Soon, after first grade my dad got his teaching degree and started teaching full time. He is an amazing teacher and can understand 2nd graders (and most children for that matter) on a level I'll never know. He was teaching school full time, doing lawns on the side, helping to rise 4 children, and then he decided to get a masters degree while continuing to do all those things. I don't know how he did it. When I was getting my masters I didn't have a family or even a job outside of working for the school.

My dad also taught us how to work and he taught his daughters how to become strong women who could do any thing they put their minds to. I was really bad (and still am) at doing yard work, but whenever I need or wanted some extra money, he always lets me go do lawns with him. So, not only did we see him work hard but he let us learn how to work for the things we want and have.

Oh, and we love to travel together. As an adult there are tons of adventures we've gone on. He went to Idaho to help me find a place to live when I thought I was going to go to school there. We spent 10 days in Australia and New Zealand. We went to Chicago and saw a Cubs vs Diamondbacks game at Wrigley field. We went to Disney World, and he went on the Hollywood tower of terror with me (even though he'd had neck surgery earlier that year). He went to New York with a me and my brother and a group of teenagers. He drove cross country with me when I worked in Virginia. I went with just him and my mom to Disney land a few years ago. And most recently, I dragged him to Tucson to help me move into my new house.

All of this to say, that I love my dad. When I lived with my parents it would drive me crazy to wake up to the lawnmower, blower, or line trimmer at some wretchedly early hour of the morning. But now, anytime I hear lawn equipment it makes me smile and think of my loving dad and all he has done for me.    

Drowning

I have never done creative writing. I am an all academic writing type girl. However, I wrote this last semester at a time when I was feeling particularly bogged down with life and expectations. Since this semester is progressively more stressful (I like to call it the perfect storm of a semester), I felt like reminding myself that I made it through last semester and can make it through this one too.

 ***********************************************

I have never been in a situation of possibly drowning, unless you count the times I was held under water while horse playing in the pool with my brothers as a little girl. But, as a consumer of mass media, I can imagine what it would be like to drown.

I would be engulfed by a mass of liquid that is simultaneously strong and consuming while being fluid and illusory. My body would be extended making the length from my fingertips to my tiptoes feel lengths taller than they actually are. I imagine that while my legs and arms are flailing back and forth as fast and often as I physically can make them go, the time will actually be ticking by slower than the laws of physics say are possible. My lungs begin to burn with hatred for this element that has sustained my life for so long but is now betraying me by trying to infiltrate areas it doesn’t belong. Just as my lungs begin to give up on ever being filled with air again, the flailing of my arms and legs pays off and I gasp. I’ve been projected above the surface of the water and my lungs are gasping for as much air as possible. This brief moment of lifesaving air renews my body’s energy to take up the fight with the betraying substance once again. This renewal, however, is promptly followed by a repeat of the struggle with the meek hope of another replenishment of the ever-distant substance of oxygen.
    

This process of being pulled underwater and struggling to get above water to catch a gasp of air is the same process that I go through as a PhD student. Every day is filled with projects to do, papers to write, articles to read, classes to prepare, research ideas to flush out, and statistical designs to grasp. One on top of the other begins to feels as if each deadline and expectation weighs down, ultimately engulfing me making it impossible for me to reach the surface or even remember that there still is a surface. I don’t know why, possibly just out of wrote or subconscious movements, I keep pushing my way up. Thrashing through the sludge of internal and external expectations and then finally, gasp. With all the odds leading to more stress and less understanding, a moment comes when you’ve hit the surface for a moment and intake the briefest of wonderful breaths. That defying moment comes with a sudden understanding of a difficult concept or even just a positive comment at the bottom of a paper you spent countless hours on. These small gulps of affirmation act as a sense of renewal which encourage a plunge back into the water that is doctoral candidacy.  
  

I Text Dead People

A couple days ago, I picked up the phone to text my friend. But he's dead so I couldn't. Instead, a copious amount of tears ensued.

In grad school we wrote a paper together about the change in broadcast news in 1963 when the networks went from 15 to 30 minutes. We had late night pow wow sessions where we talked all about Cronkite, Huntley, and Brinkley. We read books, news paper articles, and watched clips about them. It was such an interesting story to try and insert ourselves into, even just as flies on the wall. We wanted to understand just a little bit of an era that encompassed so much passion.

I started watching the show News Room on Amazon Prime, kind of as my last hurrah of binge watching tv series before classes start on Monday. The opening segment of the first season consist of clips of those same famous, ground breaking news reporters: Cronkite, Huntley, and Brinkley. 

Naturally, I wanted to tell Dave about it. Dammit Dave, why do you have to be dead right now? I just wanted to talk to you. 

A few weeks ago, I went to Utah to visit some friends. Camille was in Utah for a book signing and meeting half way is way better than driving 24 hours to Alberta. It also gave me an excuse to stay with Giulia and geek out on Doctor Who. And, like always, when I'm in Utah I try and catch up with my cohort from my masters program so about half of us meet up for dinner in SLC. 

The main reason I went though, was to visit Dave's grave. I missed his funeral and graveside service because I was in Denmark. I knew though, that Dave's adventurous self would have killed me through whatever unconventional ghostly means necessary if I had come home early from my trip. So I continued globetrotting and made it as soon as I could to pay my respects. 

Part of me knows that he is in a better place, he's not in pain now, he wouldn't want me to be sad... all the cliché phrases you hear and say. But, I am sad. 

Driving around Utah and seeing all the places I'd been to with him made me sad. Seeing the grad lab at school made me sad. Remembering the time he saw me cry made me sad. Watching stupid TV shows and instinctively trying to text him makes me sad. Missing him makes me sad.  

I love you and I miss you Dave

Yes, I'm still single

I watched Bridget Jones' Diary tonight. I saw many similarities and many differences in our lives. One of each stuck out to me. Her first entry to her last spanned across a years time. In that time, she was still struggling with her weight (similarity) and she had two men fall for her (difference).

After being humiliated for being single and shamelessly getting pushed on people by her mother, Bridget told herself (as she sang along to All by my self) that she was going to change things in her life and not be single the following year. And what would you know, she kept none of her goals and proceeded to have two separate relationships in that given time. I will have you know, that I may or may not have been singing Celine Dion's chorus of depression while making the same vows to myself on more than one occasion. And so far, my real life story has a number of failed attempts at relationships, awkward first kisses, and a more consistent on-again/off-again relationship with Tinder than any man.

So, as I lay in bed waiting for the melatonin to set in and kicking myself for not taking two, I decided to hit up pinterest. I typed "motivation for single women" in the search bar, hoping for... I don't know, motivation? Instead, 90% of the items that came up were things like "6 Exercises for a tighter, sexier butt." And ironically enough, the other 10% were quotes like the following:  

So, the motivation I get is to make myself look better for a man and be independent enough that you don't need a man. A bit of an oxymoron if you ask me. 

First of all, PINTEREST, I go to the gym and worry about my weight for me. So that I am happy with myself and to make myself healthier. Not because I am single and need to look better to attract someone. 

Second of all, I really don't understand the world we live in. It is motivational for a father to tell his young daughter that she doesn't need a man in her life. Which leads her to become capable, educated, and independent. But then society tells capable, educated, and independent women that they are too intimidating to men. And every movie out there with romance in the plot has the girl getting the guy because she needs the guy for something, guy helps, guy feels needed, guy and girl hook up. EVEN THE MOVIES ABOUT SMART GIRLS HAVE THE SAME THING! I mean even aside from movies, you all know (or maybe are the one) guys who end up with a girl not because they were MFEO but because she was needy enough to make him feel special and needed. Less often do you see guys fall for the girl who can change her own light bulbs, walk herself to her car in the dark, and carry her own heavy boxes (even if it requires sliding them across the floor). 

This is not meant to be a bitter diatribe of a single person. I actually find myself thinking I am lucky to be single because the effort of a relationship would be way too much to handle while in school. I guess I wanted Pinterest to lead me to someone's blog who is single and not depressed, but instead happy with life, not bitter toward men, and still looking for love while not being desperate about it. That way I could read their journey and be able to relate to a real life single person. And if there were days this fictional person would get down about her single status she'd share how she got out of it. Or, to share ideas about meeting people and leaving your comfort zone (i.e. your pajamas) every once and awhile. 

Since that is not what I found, I thought you know, why don't I just write something? 

They call me Master Chelsie

I am starting to stress out this semester and need an outlet. So, here is to hoping this is the start of a lot of posts on the life of a PhD student.

In the past six months, a lot has happened.

• Wrote a thesis
• Had a new niece (Ashley Marisol Akers)
• Defended a thesis 
• Graduated with a Masters Degree
• Became a brides made (congrats Giulia!)
• Moved to Tucson, AZ with BFF Alicia
• Had a new nephew (Hutchinson Fairbanks)- like it or not buddy!
•  Started first PhD courses
• Started TA job 
• Ditched house and moved again
• Accrued more student loans
• Consumed more DDP than humanly possible
• Got a personal trainer 

How is it being a PhD student you ask? Well, It takes me at least three hours to read and hopefully understand the readings from each of my two classes. Then, I have to write papers on those readings, and for each of those classes I have a 10-20 page research paper due in December so I have to start developing and writing them now. Don't forget I have 2 hours of office hours for an online class I am TA-ing (I have yet to have a student come...), then I have to read and respond to discussion board questions from that class for three hours a week (think about how much you disliked writing those posts), and now my research team is starting an experiment that I am interviewing people (with a word for word script I am trying to memorize) for 5 straight hours a week. 

On top of this required stuff, I have figured out that I am too poor to survive on anything but ramen noodles and what self respecting 27 year old should live off of ramen, so I am working on getting a second job. With a masters degree, I am qualified to teach at the community college level. However, Rio Salado requires you to take an online class on how to teach an online class before being able to get a job with them. So, thanks to my dad's credit card, I signed up for yet another class in hopes of getting a job teaching with Rio by the end of the year. 

In other words, I need to stop writing this post and go back to analyzing the 6 readings I need to read for my environmental communications class. 

Hope Came in the Shape of a Drop of Blood

Previously on the Mind of a Gus, I retold an epiphany I had this summer...

I came to the conclusion, on the steps of a monument, commemorating the life of a man with a 19 foot tall statue, that neither me or that girl will ever become someone people will make a 19 foot statue for. We will never be famous. We will never be unique. How can there be unique when there are almost 7 billion people on the earth right now? 

After my mom read this post (I'm not sure if she is a regular reader or not) her only comment was that I am a cynic when I write. That, I will own up to fully. It is possible that I am a cynic about a lot of things in life. However, hopefully this will make up for a bit of it.

And now, for the rest of the story:

Months after this so called epiphany, I was at a pretty low point in my life. Nothing the average Joe hasn't been through in their own lives, but to me it just seemed like God couldn't throw me a freaking bone.

I was at work, walking from house to house, knocking and ringing doorbells. I had gone through my usual list of affirmations to get myself pumped and positive: I LOVE MY JOB (repeated over and over), I am great at sales, I want a new pair of shoes....But, nobody was answering their doors and I could even hear them inside, "Mom, I think it's someone trying to sell something...shhhh, don't answer it." Erk, that bothered me.

Anyway, I got a call from my dear brother. It was almost one in the afternoon which means that it was before 10 in the morning for him. It kinda freaked me out because 1.) he never calls and 2.) he is never awake that early. Well, he was calling to check up on me. Oh, I love that kid.

I spent the next few minutes venting to him about how rough everything in life was going. I found myself saying feeling I must have been having for awhile and had just never said: "I am so frustrated with Heavenly Father. I did everything to make sure I was doing what he wanted me to do and then He put all these stumbling blocks in my way, so why should I go to Him for help."

Again, I have been stewing on the fact that no one in the world is unique and in that case, why should even God care.

Adam listened to me and then gently replied with a few comments that gave me some hope back. The first being: if you're gonna have a battle come up in your life, of any sort (in my case depression, anxiety, health problems...) you're gonna have to deal with it. If you deal with it alone or with the help of prescriptions then great. But, if you fight it doing everything you can AND have the Lord next to you helping you, you can only be better off.

After that, Adam reminded me of the Atonement of Christ. That He lived, bled, and died for each of us individually. I have had numerous accounts in my life where I knew this was true. That Christ knows me personally and that He knows what I'm going through. But I had forgotten.

Sure, me nor that girl in DC will ever have statues made of us. I will never be the president, or a rock star, or the winner of a nobel peach prize or the pulitzer. But to God and Jesus Christ, I am unique in thousands of ways from anyone else who has ever lived on this earth or who ever will. I believe that when Jesus Christ suffered for our pains, afflictions, and sins, he didn't suffer for them in bulk. He didn't suffer and shed one drop of blood for everyone who will ever experience depression. No, He bled a drop of blood for me, Chelsie Akers and my multiple struggles that were going on during the summer of 2013.

To some of you, this may seem far fetched or even crazy. But in Adams words "wouldn't it be sad" if it wasn't immensely personal.

One in Seven Billion

This summer, as I was out in DC, I had an epiphany. Bare with me on the retelling of my thoughts...

I was walking up the stairs to the Lincoln memorial and there was a class of some sort (I assume a "close up" type experience) coming up the stairs along side me. I slowed down to let them pass and to watch them. Sure, call me a creeper, I like to consider myself a people watcher.

As they pass, a girl with a camera and a notebook, lags behind a little. I watch as she pulls away from the group and slowly looks at the monument while taking a few photos and writing a thing or two. Then she just stops and "ponders" for a bit before she heads back to the group.

As I watched her, there were many things going through my head. First, this girl wants to be different. She is probably known by her peers as the nerd, or the artist, or the deep thinker. Her teacher probably assumes that she will go on to be something amazing. Second, she has probably had so much positive and negative attention from her being "different" that she personally believes that she will grow up to be something amazing as well. Third, all of it is in vain. Her trying to be different, the accolades from her teachers, peers, and even her own hopes and dreams, they are all in vain.

How many famous photographers are out there right now? Well, I googled it. One page lists 50, another 99, and another only 12. Out of the almost 7 billion people on earth right now, there are TWELVE famous photographers. What are her chances of growing up and being one of those twelve. Yup, I did the math these are her chances: 1.7142857e-09. I don't even know what that means besides, that her chances SUCK!

Well, lets cross photographer of her life goal list and go to writer. She doodled a little, maybe she could write something amazing about the Lincoln Memorial that will change peoples lives, move people to recycle more, stop wars, and even convince addicts to stop using. Or, she could stop kidding herself because in all of time, there have only been 14,510 books written by popular female authors. ALL OF TIME. And does she really think she can compete with Anne Frank, Jane Austene, Margaret Mitchell, Stephanie Meyer, Harriet Beecher Stowe, Anne Bronte, Ayn Rand, or Harper Lee? No, I think she better throw in the towel.

For that matter, how many people in the world have said "when I'm rich and famous"? Let's think about it, how many famous people are there really? In comparison to the population of the future, current, and past earth, there weren't that many famous people.

I came to the conclusion, on the steps of a monument, commemorating the life of a man with a 19 foot tall statue, that neither me or that girl will ever become someone people will make a 19 foot statue for. We will never be famous. We will never be unique. How can there be unique when there are almost 7 billion people on the earth right now?

As this thought permeated my mind for months, I think it depressed me. What is this all for? Why am I selling pest control? Well to pay for school, but why am I going to school? Well to get a good job, but why do I care if I have a good job? Well, to have money, but why do I need money? To do amazing things. Why do I need to do amazing things? Won't it all be the same if I try really hard to become someone important and fail (because I only have a 1.7142857e-09 chance of being important) or if I just sit in a movie theater for the rest of my life watching movies and eating popcorn (it would have to be at a harkins theater because they have DDP).

(This is an amazing post on depression) 

With this depressing thought bouncing around in my head for months, I had another experience that paralleled this one, which is a lot less depressing. Actually, it brought hope back to me. That however, will have to be told in the next post.

To be continued...

A Year to Live Life

What would you do if you had a year to do whatever you wanted? By this I mean no school, no work and all your bills had been pre-paid for the year, even leaving you the same average amount of spending money that you have when you work.

First, I would take an entire month to not leave the house. I would sleep 10+ hours a day, literally during the day. I'd then wake up some time in the evening and watch countless movies, tv shows, and even throw in some books to read when I got tired of watching tv. The goal for that month would be to 1) interact with no human being (unless they were taking my order for food delivery) and 2) to make up all the hours of sleep I've missed in my life.

Second, to stay on my goal of solitude and rejuvenation, I would drive my little red Prius to California and I would spend my days on the beach and my nights I'd sleep in my car.  There'd be no need for a suitcase of clothes because I'd live in my swim suit, so there'd be plenty of room to make a bed in the back of my Prius (yet to be named). I could do that for at least another month of my free life.

With both longing and dread I would leave California and head back to Arizona. I would spend the next ten months living on a very loose and flexible schedule:

AM

Pick up Rachel and Nathanael and go to the park or movies or go swimming

 

Go outside and garden

 

Go to the gym or on a bike ride

PM

Go to Lindsay's and Jared's to play with Ainsley

 

Cook something

Sip DDP as I read a book on the porch

Do an activity - paint/decorate a room, sew a quilt, take a photography class...

Go to the movies/ dinner with the family - Mattas with whole family, gay bar tacos with Adam, Claim Jumpers with Hannah, Oggies with Corey, or Logan's Steak House with Mom and Dad

After a few months of this regimen, I would take another road trip and head up to Calgary to impose on Camille and Kyle. They'd probably get sick of me after the first week, I know how hard it can be to have house guests... But while I'm taking up residency in their basement (one of my favourite places in the world), I'd cook them meals (since they'd unfortunately still be working), clean, shovel snow (they'd have to teach me how), run their errands, get the mail, pack lunches... I'd practically be a house elf and I'd love every minute of it. In fact, if they'd have me, I might even spend two months of my year there. One when it's beautiful outside to experience Alberta in it's prime and one in the winter when it's miserable, just to say I've experienced a Canadian winter.

Then, in the middle of this euphoric year a fairy would come and grant me one lifetime dream. She would pay for me to get helicopter lessons. I would then add this into my daily schedule and live as happy as could be!

This, my friends, is what I would do if I had a year to just live my life.

Dinner, Dessert, & Dinero

As I have said before, my job can be hard. It takes a lot to stay motivated and motivation is the key to success. So, I made it a goal to see more and do more in VA and DC while I am here this year. Even though I knew, my slumber would feel the loss greatly, I decided to go ahead and take a night on the town. 

My Moxie BFF (you, me and JB) Trina, went to the shopping center at Fairfax Corner with the sole purpose of getting a CupCake. As to not waist the trip, we decided to make a day of it by going for dinner too. After walking around and looking at our choices, we decided on FanFare Eatery.  

We decided to eat out side because the weather has been amazing the last few days. 

They had one of those fancy Coke machines, which normally always have 

DDP. But this one didn't. However, before I could get too sad, I did see that

they had Pibb Zero. Never seen it before in my life but it was pretty good. 

These boneless wings were cheaper than the wings with bone in them 

which doesn't usually happen. And, I am not going to lie, I waited 

to eat them last but was too full, so they are in my fridge for lunch 

tomorrow. 

The mac & cheese was super good. 

These onion rings were probably the worst I have 

ever had in my life. I felt like I was eating a 

brick of salt. I couldn't even eat one whole one. 

It might just be me, but I didn't know that you 

get chili on nachos...? They were pretty average 

nachos, better than buffalo wild wings, but not 

amazing. 

We then made our way over to Cupcakes Actually for dessert. As we walked over there, we had to forge our way through hoards of people. Then, suddenly, Trina stopped mid stride. When I looked back to see what caused the conundrum, Trina was looking down at the ground at a folded up twenty dollar bill. After a good amount of time, with her staring at it, I finally nudged her to pick it up. "But I feel GUILTY." "TRINA, if you don't pick it up someone else will! Just get it!" She did pick it up, and it ended up being a good deal for me too because there were TWO twenty dollar bills and she shared her "dream" money with me. Needless to say, I guess I am heartless because I felt no guilt and she still does even after it is all spent. 

Any who, we made it to the cupcakes with cash in hand.

This is a raspberry cupcake with vanilla bean butter cream 

frosting, and it is the best cupcake I have ever had in my life. 

Yes it beats Sprinkles and DC CupCake Co. 

I am glad that I got out of the house for the weekend and even more glad to have had such a fun night. Thank you and I am sorry to the person who lost forty bucks last night! 

Get Your Garden Outa the Gutter!

Something else you gotta love about Virginia.

Not only are there weeds in the rain gutters but you can also see little old ladies trying to pick them with garbage picking tongs. :)

I was trying to be stealthy as I took this photo and I was a little far away
and the good ol Iphone just didn't know what to focus on.
But you can see her there, picking away! 

Peeves the Poltergeist

*** Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. If you are reading this and think I am talking about you or something you do, it probably is.

11. Describe 10 pet peeves you have.

1. It drives me crazy when people leave the sponge in the sink. Do they not realize that if you leave it there, it will stay wet and the bacteria will multiply and then it will start to stink? 
2. There are some noises that drive me insane. Loud gulping noises (I can handle one or two but repeatedly? Just kill me!) and insidious scratching is worse than nails on a chalk board. 
3. Skirting around the issue. Sometimes, people like to just hint or beat around the bush when asking me to do something for them. HELLO, I AM A PUSH OVER. I will say YES so just ask me. 
4. At restaurants, don't bring me water with two cubes of ice. I don't want room temperature tap water, the least you could do is give me a lot of ice to cancel out the tap-ness of the water. 
5. I love the movies but I hate inappropriateness at the movies. What do I mean by inappropriateness? Well, I am a talker during movies, I will comment or ask questions, but they are pertinent to the movie. The 14 year-olds who just want to gossip about who likes who, get the heck out of the theater. I also like to laugh during movies, sometimes even loudly. The jr. high gigglers, need to leave, that is not appropriate. Opening weekend of big movies, I will cheer or clap at good parts but it is not necessary to go over board. 
6. It drives me crazy when people say they don't like things that they never tried. Do they not realize that being so closed minded will only lead to an unadventurous life? 
7. When people complain about things in their life that they can change and they don't. Don't complain to me about your job, boyfriend, life, school, religion... if you aren't going to do what it takes to change it so you can be happy. 
8. Fake people. Be who you are. Why be fake? Is there really any reason for you to talk, act, think different than how you really feel? If you think it is to make people like you more, they won't. 
9. It drives me crazy when members of the LDS church say "the church" says to do this or not to do this. Really? There are so many things that the "church" doesn't have an official standing on and when people say the church does, I just want to smack them. Don't just hid behind some rumor you heard or half-a listened to at conference, do some research and see what "the church" really thinks about it before saying that. 
10. My sister in-law is a Mexican who legally moved to the United States. I also grew up with parents who teach in the public school system and deal with many legal and non-legal immigrants from Mexico. I think it is a sign of ignorance when people who have never had personal experience with immigrants decide to take a stand against them and put them all in the category of lazy and destructive. 

Don't hate me after reading this. Almost all of these you will never know I am thinking or feeling, but deep down, I am being driven crazy! 

Be Optimistic, Don't You Be a Grumpy!

Dave wrote about the trip to DC. You can read about it here, here and here. 

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Sometimes, my job can be hard. I imagine, that any job can have it's hard moments. In fact, I know I have moaned, on the phone and in person, to Lindsay White Sherman about almost every job I have ever had. It is always nice to get work crap off your chest and wake up and go to work the next day all clear of the crappy stuff before. However, with this job (door to door sales), complaining is like shooting yourself in the foot. Complaining and negativism are contagious and become a chronic problem which end up losing you money and stripping any motivation away. 

So, I am writing this post about Virginia and the many things I see and enjoy everyday. 

Town homes are everywhere out here. 

I don't think I have ever seen any like this in AZ. 

It is fun to see so many people in one area with such 

different lives and stories. These particular town homes

are a godsend because they don't each have 18 stairs to go up. 

Homes out here are so cute and well taken care of. 

I worked in this neighborhood last year and wanted

to live there. The houses were so cute and the people

were pretty nice. (I can take the onslaught of "no" 

but at least be nice about it!)

You can't see it very well, but there is a ridiculous mansion

off to the left behind the trees. It is totally gaudy and

 in such a random neighborhood. The house to the right

and all around are tiny, old homes built a long time ago. 

But, east Indian's know how to do it! Buy cheep land in

a random place and you can build a bigger house! 

Ok, so this I don't get. People pay and have these

wood fences put up around their homes. Then, 

they never put a finnish on it or paint it, just leave 

them to look like rotting wood. WHY? A 

bucket of paint can't cost that much, or better 

yet, have the company who installs it, pain it.

Everyone out here has little figurines in their 

yard. Some are of dears, some have little pigs,

some have noms, cats, dogs, porkupines.... weird!

I kept seeing these crazy huge buds that resembled

rose buds but were round. 

It turns out they are 

these super pretty roses. 

I passed this old, closed down building and couldn't help but take some photos. 

Pink sunset. Such a nice welcome to the evening. 

I know this is blurry, I took it while driving, 

but I thought it still turned out cool. 

This is the sky right after it rained. 

When I imagine heaven, I imagine it looking like this. 

Green everywhere that invites happiness. 

It would have to be 15 degrees cooler with 

no humidity to really be heaven though. 

There you go, There is a little taste of my life here in the big VA!