Love.
I have always considered myself a romantic. I believe in soulmates. I believe in love at first sight. I believe in true love overcoming all odds and obstacles. Etc, etc....more mushy crap.
Let's get to the point.
We don't live in the movies. When I lock eyes with a guy from across the room, time doesn't stand still while we gaze deeply into each other's souls. It's just dang awkward. When a handsome stranger knocks into me in the hallway or supermarket and I drop my stuff, he doesn't help me pick it up and then get my number. I just mutter, "I meant to do that" under my breath as he avoids eye contact and walks away (I then usually stand up and kick at the air in his general direction). I have never suddenly discovered that I'm in love with my best friend (she will be relieved to read that considering she's a female) nor realized that there truly is a fine line between love and hate and fallen for someone I have never seen eye-to-eye with (Otherwise I may be courting Glenn Beck).
That wasn't actually to the point; let's try again...
Can I really consider myself a romantic? We are talking about the girl that shook hands at the door on her first date and responded with "thanks" the first time a guy used the "L" word. Is it even possible to be romantic in Provo? Provo, a mystical land where girls are asked on dates via Oreos on cars and secret balloon messages in doorways (Yes, I watched the "The Singles Ward" last night.) Provo, the place where girls come to get their MRS instead of their BA or BS (I just have to say how wonderful I think it is that I have a BS in BS...very classy.) Provo, the home of ward menus, shameless, non-discriminatory flirting and a general lack of self-respect (I know it's harsh, but let's be realistic).
I guess it all depends on how you define romance.
Is it romantic to receive flowers? For some, maybe. Personally, I always have a strange sense of foreboding about the relationship when I look at those flowers lying dead in the vase a week later (or two days later if your roommate pours Windex into the vase). Is it romantic to receive chocolate? It's delicious, but not necessarily romantic. I am not saying these are bad things! Flowers and chocolates are fantastic (and recommended if you slip and call me "woman" at some point). However, they do not register as "romantic" on my scale.
So what is romance?
Thanks for asking. Romance is when you get a little note or text reminding you that you are being thought of. Romance is an acknowledgment of your pain, even when you thought you were hiding it so well. Romance is remembering the little things. Romance is a hug from behind while you're doing the dishes. Romance is not a lone, grand gesture; it's a multitude of little reminders that you are loved, remembered and wanted.
So am I a romantic? You decide.
"Jump and the net will appear” -Jason Mraz
I Must Have Killed a Dude
Karma?
As I stood in the shower with conditioner in my hair and soap lathered all over my body, the shower started to choke and then completely died. I tried to turn the shower off and then back on to no avail. I then stood there, with soap drying on my body and conditioner sitting in my hair, staring at the shower in disbelief. My first thought when I realized the water had been completely shut off was, "I must have killed a dude." That may seem like a random thought, but you have to understand my reasoning here. I have been a good person and lived a reasonably good life so far, so I figure I must have killed someone in another life in order to deserve all of these little things that keep screwing up. I mean, seriously, this is the type of thing that only happens in the movies right? Right. Unless your name is Brooke Jones.
Well, the only people I have met in my new apartment complex so far are guys and I didn't think it would help my reputation in the ward to show up sopping wet and ask if I could use their shower... So I ended up on my sister Kim's porch in Springville with dried soap on my body and 3 Minute Miracle Conditioner in my hair (which had actually been in my hair for 45 minutes at this point). Kim graciously let me use her shower and then I took off back to my apartment where the water turned back on 5 minutes later, just in time for my roommate to take a relaxing shower.
I realize I am sounding over dramatic about this whole situation, but I have a lot of little experiences like this that have built up into an angry wall that I am breaking down by complaining about them.
Two days ago my roommate/sister Taylor and I were unpacking at our new apartment. I was working on something at the other end of the room (which is about two feet wide) when I heard a crack. I looked over and Taylor was kneeling across my "bed" with a look of shock on her face. As she lifted herself up, she realized she was not actually kneeling on my bed, she was kneeling on my favorite picture. The decorative glass was broken out of the picture and it no longer held the same visual appeal. I was pretty upset about this, but I decided to make the best out of a bad situation. We took the picture out to the dumpster where I wrapped my hand in a blanket and punched the remaining glass out of the frame (I have always wanted to do that). Oddly enough, the hand that I did not use for the punching ended up getting sliced open by glass and bleeding...as did my foot. I guess I kind of brought that one on myself... However, it should be noted that this never would have happened if Taylor had not broken the glass in the first place.
A day before the glass incident, I graduated from UVU. This was an overall happy occasion that was marred by one stupid little incident. As I was waiting with the other graduates in the tunnel before walking out into the main area, I somehow managed to step on gum. Not just gum; the wrapper was also stuck to my shoe. Come on people! We are graduating from college and someone spit their gum on the ground!? Are you serious!? So as all of the graduates walked gracefully out of the tunnel, I hobbled along while scraping my foot on every spot of carpet I could find. Classy.
A few days before graduation my contract ended at my apartment and I was moving out. I woke up that morning to pouring rain, in direct contrast to the sunny days that had surrounded this one. All of my stuff was getting wet while I was moving it out, but I was managing. However, as I took my bedding out to my car, my pillow dropped. I had a tight grip on it, so I'm pretty convinced that some unholy force knocked it out of my arms. Not only did I drop the pillow on the ground, I heard a loud "SPLASH" as it hit. I had dropped my pillow into a puddle. I picked it up while inwardly cursing and continued to my car. As I attempted to open my trunk, I dropped my other pillow. With both pillows now thoroughly soaked and covered in dirt I repeated my new mantra "I must have killed a dude."
Again, I am completely aware that these are relatively tame incidents as far as these things go, but why so many? There are even more than this, but I am already feeling a bit like a whiner and I don't like to make my posts too long. Since I believe we are "punished for our own sins", these things must be on me...
My bad.
As I stood in the shower with conditioner in my hair and soap lathered all over my body, the shower started to choke and then completely died. I tried to turn the shower off and then back on to no avail. I then stood there, with soap drying on my body and conditioner sitting in my hair, staring at the shower in disbelief. My first thought when I realized the water had been completely shut off was, "I must have killed a dude." That may seem like a random thought, but you have to understand my reasoning here. I have been a good person and lived a reasonably good life so far, so I figure I must have killed someone in another life in order to deserve all of these little things that keep screwing up. I mean, seriously, this is the type of thing that only happens in the movies right? Right. Unless your name is Brooke Jones.
Well, the only people I have met in my new apartment complex so far are guys and I didn't think it would help my reputation in the ward to show up sopping wet and ask if I could use their shower... So I ended up on my sister Kim's porch in Springville with dried soap on my body and 3 Minute Miracle Conditioner in my hair (which had actually been in my hair for 45 minutes at this point). Kim graciously let me use her shower and then I took off back to my apartment where the water turned back on 5 minutes later, just in time for my roommate to take a relaxing shower.
I realize I am sounding over dramatic about this whole situation, but I have a lot of little experiences like this that have built up into an angry wall that I am breaking down by complaining about them.
Two days ago my roommate/sister Taylor and I were unpacking at our new apartment. I was working on something at the other end of the room (which is about two feet wide) when I heard a crack. I looked over and Taylor was kneeling across my "bed" with a look of shock on her face. As she lifted herself up, she realized she was not actually kneeling on my bed, she was kneeling on my favorite picture. The decorative glass was broken out of the picture and it no longer held the same visual appeal. I was pretty upset about this, but I decided to make the best out of a bad situation. We took the picture out to the dumpster where I wrapped my hand in a blanket and punched the remaining glass out of the frame (I have always wanted to do that). Oddly enough, the hand that I did not use for the punching ended up getting sliced open by glass and bleeding...as did my foot. I guess I kind of brought that one on myself... However, it should be noted that this never would have happened if Taylor had not broken the glass in the first place.
A day before the glass incident, I graduated from UVU. This was an overall happy occasion that was marred by one stupid little incident. As I was waiting with the other graduates in the tunnel before walking out into the main area, I somehow managed to step on gum. Not just gum; the wrapper was also stuck to my shoe. Come on people! We are graduating from college and someone spit their gum on the ground!? Are you serious!? So as all of the graduates walked gracefully out of the tunnel, I hobbled along while scraping my foot on every spot of carpet I could find. Classy.
A few days before graduation my contract ended at my apartment and I was moving out. I woke up that morning to pouring rain, in direct contrast to the sunny days that had surrounded this one. All of my stuff was getting wet while I was moving it out, but I was managing. However, as I took my bedding out to my car, my pillow dropped. I had a tight grip on it, so I'm pretty convinced that some unholy force knocked it out of my arms. Not only did I drop the pillow on the ground, I heard a loud "SPLASH" as it hit. I had dropped my pillow into a puddle. I picked it up while inwardly cursing and continued to my car. As I attempted to open my trunk, I dropped my other pillow. With both pillows now thoroughly soaked and covered in dirt I repeated my new mantra "I must have killed a dude."
Again, I am completely aware that these are relatively tame incidents as far as these things go, but why so many? There are even more than this, but I am already feeling a bit like a whiner and I don't like to make my posts too long. Since I believe we are "punished for our own sins", these things must be on me...
My bad.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)