I will be a genius

I haven't been on here for a while. The break was very nice and relaxing. Hardly any technology was involved.

I'm doing some pretty awesome research and I'm finishing it up in the next few weeks. I'm hoping to get it published online at some point.

https://byu.qualtrics.com/SE/?SID=SV_51I8UUaNaZ4arxG

I'm a penny pincher, you can be one too part 1

I sometimes tend to be tight-fisted, a miser, stingy, cheapskate, moneygrubber but I can also be thrifty, prudent and frugal.

I mean there's nothing wrong with buying expired food and eating it, right? I can walk out of the grocery store with my shopping cart full of food and I don't spend more than $30.

How do I do this? I shop as this little known dive in Salt Lake City that gets expired food or cancelled food shipments and then they sell their stuff for super cheap.

We'll get blocks of cheese for a dollar. Cookies for a dollar. Candy for a dollar. Sometimes we'll get these things for even cheaper. And don't think they only sell the cheap stuff. Most of the food they sell is top of the line.

There are some guidelines though, I don't buy any sketchy stuff. I have some dignity: No produce, no dairy except cheese, no meat. I mostly buy bottled juice, canned goods, packaged goods and frozen goods.

The place is disgusting. People push and shove to get food. And like I said, sometimes their some sketchy stuff there.

I like to take a couple weeks break before going back so I can rid myself of feeling like utter filth, but the deals are great and the food tastes great too--most of the time. We've been going there for months and no food poisoning yet.

The Sara(h)'s in my life Part 1

I remember looking at her upside down, when she was less than a year old. She looked like an alien, I still wonder if she is.

From diapers to ten-year-old, my youngest sister--of the ten of us--is not an alien but she's a sleeper.

While potty training she would fall asleep on the little toilet with her head resting on the adult toilet. One time she fell asleep on the floor, in front of the door and another time on the dresser.

Sara, the bedhead. My first semester back from college, I remember sitting on the couch at 11 a.m. and Sara walks out of her room, barely awake, goes to the bathroom, comes out of the bathroom, looks at me and with that Sara voice says, "WHAT?"

I love Sara for her wittiness. There hasn't been a time when I talked on the phone with her that I wasn't blown away by her intelligence; from math to telling me jokes for a half hour.

Gotta love that kid.

The Sara (Sarah)'s in my life, part 2

Soup. She offered to help me drag my suitcases in after I had lugged them through six inches of snow, after I had spent twelve hours travelling.

I readily said "yes."

I didn't know that the soup and bread would soon turn into a beautiful friendship. We had spent the semester before as FHE siblings but never became close. And then, suddenly, we were sharing a room and eating soup.

And moments after we finished the soup, she was dancing to gypsy punk rock music and singing for me--Start Wearing Purple. Some of my favorite songs came from this grand woman: Rabbit Heart, Skinny Love, Manic and I, Welcome Home.

Sarah is one amazing person. With style, class, beauty, and music she expanded my knowledge and creativity in ways I never imagined.

Sarah writes music, sings and performs music. She can pretty much do anything, she's gifted.

But Sarah goes a step beyond being gifted. Her kindness to me and others has always been genuine. After breaking up with my sorta boyfriend, Sarah was immediately there to console me. I remember eating junk food in the park and flipping through Cosmo and laughing at all the ridiculous things in there with her. I remember us sitting down and making a list of things I was going to do to get over the guy who sorta broke my heart.

Sarah has chosen to dedicate her life to others, even before she graduated with her bachelors in Sociology, she was serving as many people as she possibly could.

The fondest memory of Sarah was the wedding day of our friend Sage. We were beat. Sarah and I had spent the night before packing and cleaning and we didn't finish until the next morning, right before we went to the wedding.

We ran into Billy there--I feel like I used to run into Billy a lot, places and times I'd never expect to see him. Weird.

Anyway, right after we went to Olive Garden and ran into my Stake Patriarch, who "anonymously" paid for our whole meal.

We were on a high. And so we decided to drive to Utah but then realized we were going to Montana and then realized we didn't know where we were going, we were just going. We ended up in the middle of nowhere and adventured for a while before going back to Rexburg and crashing on the floor of what would be my future apartment.

There are so many amazing, cherished memories that I have with Sarah and I hope to have more.

Da bears

There are some days where I am full to bursting with opinions and thoughts and then there are days--like the past few days--that I doubt my opinion and I lack the ability to update this blog.

I will post something for you tomorrow ... hopefully.

I'd rather write about Evita than vampires

Yeah. I turned Evita into a blood sucking vampire; not appealing.

Blood ran down my neck, I felt woozy, the vampire stared at me with love, lust and horror on his face. His nose began to run and ... Not. I made you look.

This isn't going to be a vampire book, I don't even know if I can guarantee blood, or lust or violence or even some language that would make a rapper blush.

But you'll only know if you read on.

Twenty one, thats how old I am. I am currently working on my masters, on becoming a prodigy, but I am also currently working to get out of my bed as this very moment too. What can I say, I'm a working woman, dedicated and stuff.

I guess thats why I suddenly felt the need to write a book. I once thought "I'll write it about vampires" but then Stephanie Meyer--did I spell that right?-- beat me to the punch.

I also considered wizards, elves, worms and snot.

Thats one thing I can guarantee, this book will be a little runny. I mean, I've gotta capture every audience and kids love snot, farts, boogers and poop jokes, so I'll be sure to slide some in every now and then.

The music I'm listening to is a little runny, like my nose. Promise to not make fun of me? Evita. I'm listening to Evita and to make it worse, its the Madonna version. I was stuck on some modern, radio stereotypical rap crap but I switched back to all my old classic stuff, if you consider Evita to be a classic anything.

Moody Blues is the next thing I will probably listen too. Am I moody? No, but they're not either.

Anyway, this is all very random but I am going to write a book. Something horrendously embarrassing and very honest.

I'm not going to try and make money off it, heck I may not even bind it but if you want to read it, there will be a chapter posted on here every now and then.

Read it.

I will eat food out of a dog's mouth

You know how much I hate dogs? Well, if I get 500 hits on my blog in one day, then I will put a video/photo up on here of me eating food out of a dog's mouth, unless you have any other ideas? Please feel free to comment.

Also, if I get 1500 people to take this survey, I will do something else crazy and put a video up for everyone to see. Click the link below to take the survey.

https://byu.qualtrics.com/SE/?SID=SV_51I8UUaNaZ4arxG

Staff Sgt. Gibbs: Is he really guilty?

Staff Sgt. Gibbs

I don’t know why, but I feel this is an issue I must write about. I want to discuss the sentencing of Staff Sgt. Calvin Gibbs, of Billings, Mont.

If you haven’t read the story, here is a link for it. Read it and then read the rest of this—because I said to and because it’s an important part of history and the news.

So, a lot of comments were posted on this story on major news websites; many condemned Gibbs to hell, many were sympathetic and many blamed desensitization for why Gibbs did what he did—I don’t think this is completely right, especially in this situation.

Here are some of the comments, one is from the Washington Post, "When you take a kid out of his normal environment and turn him into a killing machine by returning him to this hell hole known as active duty, numerous times (vs national draft and one tour), what do you expect? "

Or from the Huffington Post

" Every soldier responds to death in wars differentl­y. Some are simply overwhelme­d when confronted with the carnage of human life and loss of friends in combat. Every man has a breaking point and some men are much more fragile than others and respond differentl­y. We read about war and watch it on TV however, when you are participat­ing, it is a most terrible experience­."

Yes, I feel that men are scarred from war. They will be prone to violence, to anger, to sadness, to depression.

But I do not feel that this endorses a soldier to target and kill an innocent civilian for no reason except sport.

I give this example, if you were in the United States and you shot a woman walking down the street, because she was a woman and you didn’t like women, you would be tried and likely given a life sentence.

This is how I see Gibbs and his sentence. Plus, if you factor in that not only did he kill these people and set the scene up so that they looked as if they were a threat (by planting weapons on them or saying they fired at him) but he also chopped off their fingers, pulled out a tooth and took photos with the victims to use as trophies.

I believe a person can become desensitized but this goes beyond desensitization, this is full out premeditated, blatant killing.

I will point out that these people aren't the majority, and so I would like to pay tribute to those who don't get satisfaction in killing but know that they are defending their life, their liberty and their family. God bless you for your sacrifices.

Also, what are you feelings on all of this?

To all you momma's boys out there

You ever know a guy that pretty much talks about his mother all the time? They say a good guy is a guy that treats his mother right, I'm a supporter of this but what about a guy who doesn't just treat his mother right but also has an oedipus complex?

I still remember, I went out with a guy who could do nothing but talk about his mother--total turn off. He recently was married. I wonder if she reminds him of his mother?

Sometimes these mommy boys are just down right creepy. There was a guy in my ward when I was younger who breast fed until he was five--talk about being stuck on someone, literally.

She would just whip it out at the pool and tell him to come get his lunch. Weird.

But, they're not all so blatantly obsessed with their mother. I'm just putting out a warning for you women.

Don't date a guy that you can completely control, a guy that enjoys that. Gross. Do you know how you really sees you? They see you as a mother figure that they can have sex with.

If you feel like the dominator in your relationship, then do something about it, unless you enjoy being the mother figure in your relationship, then by all means whip it out for him and the babies.

Celebrity twitter screw ups: Ashton Kutcher

What exactly is the point of Twitter? In some ways I feel like its great for getting quick updates on the news in a timely manner. Some people use it like Facebook, or they use it to build up their businesses by posting witty remarks on the news or other such things.

I feel like celebrities are big proponents of Twitter. It seems they use it almost the same way we use Facebook. They put up personal posts and a lot of times its about things happening in the news or its things they accidentally tweet out to the masses.

I even think of Anthony Weiner, the political figure who pretty much ruined his career when he accidentally posted a picture of his junk--wrapped in some tight briefs on twitter (of course, I knew it was coming, you know what they say about men with big noses ... ).

The latest blunder made by a celebrity, Ashton Kutcher, who at the beginning of this most recent scandal with Paterno and his old assistant coach.

He really made a blunder. Turns out he was misinformed. Coach Paterno should've been fired. He knew what was going on and did nothing about it. I read some of the court case, there was ample evidence and it wasn't lovely.

I have to admire what Kutcher is doing. He's admitting fault, he's admitting ignorance and it sounds heartfelt. Hopefully he learned his lesson.

Anyway, its interesting how many others have screwed up on Twitter. I've found a little list for you.

Aaron

I think its time that I wrote a post about Aaron.

I've never met anyone who knows more about Power Rangers, Vampires and dark forces. If I ever need to know something about Buffy the Vampire Slayer, I know where to go.

Aaron has always been a great cousin and a great son to his parents. He seems to treat his mother and father with respect. He has a great love for animals and kids, which is admirable.

I remember visiting Wheeling, West Virginia in the summer for our family vacations. My brothers loved staying at Aaron's house and goofing around playing video games and eating junk food.

West Virginia would definitely not be the same without Aaron there.

Thanks Aaron for making West Virginia what it is to me today.

I wear name brand clothing, so I am beautiful

The price for this scarf is just ridiculous. 

Let me tell you about Kaitlin.

She has managed to inform you on her opinions on all the things listed at the top of her blog site, except one thing. She has failed to mention anything about your clothes, her clothes, their clothes but now she will cross that bridge ... and burn it.

In order to under for you to understand my feelings on clothes, you must understand how I dress myself.

I like to match. My clothing must make sense. Of course, most people feel this way. But besides matching, the way I choose what I wear is by how cheap I get it.

For example, today I am am wearing $4 tights from Forever 21, a $4 dress from Target with a black skirt under it from Kohls that I bought for $8 (it came with a belt too). I am wearing socks that I stole from my boyfriend and my boots, which fully cover my man socks, are $20 from Payless (I've had them for four years now).

Would you care for me to go on? My underwear is cute, its black with a little bow on the front. I think I purchased a 6 pack of them from Walmart for $5 and my bra is my most recent purchase, I bought that from JcPenney, on sale for $8. Its an obnoxious turquoise color but it fits great and I bought it for $30 less than its original price.

In case you can't tell, I'm cheap. Thats how I determine what I wear. If its appealing to the eye, if I can get a lot of wear out of it and if I lose next to nothing by buying it, then I buy it--its as simple as that.

This past year I received a ton of free clothes from a lady in the ward. Some of them were sketch or skanky, so I cutsied/modested them up and I wear them all the time.

I don't say no to free clothes, and I always wear them -- as long as they are mostly new, clean, not someone's underwear, and somewhat in style.

So, now you know a little about my style and why I am about to criticize yours.

WASTE. What are you doing with your money?!?!

I see people throwing their money down the drain for name brands and specific styles.

I mean, are you really going to buy a scarf for $20-$35? Or even $200?

Nonsense. Utter nonsense. Everyone complains about how broke they are and yet I see all of those supposedly broke/poor people spending loads of money on clothes.

Find deals, go without, take whats given to you. Just because its not from American Eagle, Abercrombie & Fitch or some other lame place, doesn't mean its worthless.

Let your goodness define your beauty, not your clothes ... stupid.

Sage

I remember when I first met Sage. She was in hair school in Rexburg. Oh man, and we were so young.

18-year-old girls with their heads full of dreams. She was friends with the roommates I had the semester, the Wyoming roommates, specifically Star Valley.

I heard so much about Star Valley that semester and then I actually went there for Thanksgiving and had some fun adventures.

I think the first time Sage and I really interacted was when Michelle and I went to get our hair done for a school dance. We had all asked dates, picked out dresses and now we were getting our hair done.

It was then that I fell in love with Sage's ability to make my hair look amazing. Actually, I remember when Sage and I parted ways in Rexburg a while back, we thought we wouldn't really see each other again. I figured I'd never get my hair done again because no one would ever do as nice a job as Sage.

But surprise, surprise. I landed an internship with Deseret News and Sage was living in Utah. Although we both have crazy schedules, we still manage to see each other more frequently than all my other friends from college.

There are so many wonderful things I could say about Sage. I think the thing that has impressed me the most is that Sage is one of the most self less people I know.

I am so impressed with her outlook on life. If you ever are luck enough to meet my beautiful friend Sage, you will meet a young woman who is mature, intelligent, and charitable.

Thank you Sage for being such an awesome example.

Don't hate me cause you ain't me

Peter's recent blogpost on how I read his blog about me, got me thinking--I know, it surprised me too.

I could only respond to Peter in one way, "Don't hate me cause you ain't me." The only reason Peter is blogging about me is because he wishes he were me.

I've been reading the most interesting blog, by this couple, and I can't help but hate her too, because I ain't her.

And so, like Peter, I find myself blogging about someone I wish I could be and who I hate because I know I can't be. I mean, I could get a lot closer to being like her than Peter could because we are both female. Sadly Peter will never be that much like me because we differ in gender.

Anyway, this girl that I habitually stalk has everything: a hot boyfriend, a cool camera, awesome dance moves--can you see why I hate/envy her?

But I also wonder how often we take ourselves and compare ourselves to others by looking at their blogs, their Facebooks, their websites--just the way Peter and I do.

How much time is wasted in stalking and hating on people and what their doing in their pictures and videos. I know everyone must hate on me because I only do awesome things with my life--just look at the awesome photos that I've put on this blogpost.

Everyone must hate me cause they sure ain't me.

Nose picking lessons

Who: Peter Nguyen

What: Nose Picking Lessons

When: Whenever you like

Where: His backyard, behind the tree, where no one can see

Why: Because he's the best, even better than Kaitlin

How: With his/your finger

All you need is a finger! The lessons are free!

Perry and Cain: Poking each other like children

And so the finger pointing begins. Are these really candidates that we want running for President?

Cain gets accused of some sex scandal that happened years ago. He denies the allegations, while in the process of digging dirt on the initial dirt digger.

Cain believes Perry dug up this whole sex scandal and so then he turns the finger on Perry, who then points his finger at Romney. Looks to me like Perry standing in the middle of these three candidates with his arms wide open, fingers pointing, and placing blame wherever he can.

But, I'll show both of them a finger--the one between my index and ring finger. I don't know if I can vote for men who squabble like children.

And the bickering continues. Perry faces accusations of being drunk or on drugs at his last speech.

I can't help but wonder what will come up next. Who will face the finger next?

Latest Victim: James

I remember the first time I met James. It was my second year at EFY, I think I had just turned 16.

It was at the first dance for the week and I was standing by the wall--like I always do--when this kid asks me to dance. It was one of the many times that a young man had taken pity on me and decided to make themselves the highlight of my night.

Well James did more than that. What was just a dance turned into a friendship, I remember keeping in touch with him until he left for his mission, just a little over a year after that first meeting--I believe.

We emailed during that time. He would tell me about college and I would complain about high school.

After he left for the mission, Stormin Mormon--I believe that was his email or something--and I didn't really talk anymore. I think I wrote him one letter at the beginning and he wrote one back.

It was after his mission, and after I had added him on Facebook that James and I talked again.

I never would've imagined that he would start hooking me up with guys while he was in North Carolina for college and I was at BYU-Idaho.

But he did.

I remember he set me up with a guy and we went out on a Friday night. I worked the next morning, at the college newspaper, and someone hacked into my Facebook account while I was out for lunch.

So, I'm sitting down for lunch when I get this phone call from James. I hadn't talked to him verbally in what was years.

"Are you engaged?" he says in disbelief. After a couple minutes of reassurance and an explanation of what I assumed was a hacking (and I found out later that I was right), he hung up.

I remember him saying something like, "You went on a date with another guy last night and you're engaged today?!?!"

I went on several dates and had some good times because of James. Being set up by someone so far away was hilarious at the time, and I still laugh to this day.

I've always seen James as some kind of genius and of course, a friend. Thanks James.

I've decided to stalk Peter today

Peter, I know you've wanted to be stalked and so I have stalked you (PS: Love the new family photo ... eerie, how did I know about that?).

So, here is my blogpost about Peter.

I remember I hated Scroll [college newspaper] my first year. I was shy, young and withdrawn. But, after a year, I began to change. It was Winter 2009, Peter was editor-in-chief and Ryan was managing editor. I decided from the start that I didn't like my job and I didn't like them, which is an awful attitude to have but keep in mind that I was a baby at the time.

The semester before was my first time getting paid at Scroll. My editor taught me nothing. She would throw a page at me, tell me to do it and then fix everything she didn't like on that page, without offering any guidance.

But the semester after that, I was doing something different. I was in charge of the whole Campus section because my editor had ditched me. So, 18-year-old Kaitlin took over. I remember telling my little group of students what to do and giving them guidance but I kept thinking in the back of my mind "Why should they even listen to me? They're all at least a year older" (Age difference was HUGE to me at the time). I actually cried after the first week.

But after those first couple weeks, I truly began to appreciate Peter and Ryan. Peter at first was intimidating to me but after offering to help me with my pages on a Saturday, when I was the only one left there, my feelings changed.

I still consider that to be one my favorite semesters at BYU-Idaho. I had to opportunity to build networks and even more importantly build lasting friendships.

Thank you Peter for helping me learn to love something I thought I would always hate.

Dave Chalk

Dave ... what can I say about Dave? I've known Dave for a couple months now but I still know very little about him. I feel like Dave listens to me complain a lot, and I am sorry for that. From school work to ex-boyfriends, I make him listen.

I have been in the habit, lately, of complaining a lot and its something that I need to cut out of my life, but Dave makes it so stinking easy to complain when he offers to listen anytime.

I can't help but wonder what he has planned for all the complaints and thoughts I've shared with him. I can see it, years from now, when I've married my rich man--we've talked about this, Dave and I have--and he black mails me for something I told him all those years ago.

Oh gee. I guess this is good incentive to stop complaining. Thank you, Dave.

Memories ...

Jumping as the leaves fall and you fall into the leaves. I jump and the air is cold. The springs squeak and the material stretches. We laugh as we bounce each other on the trampoline. The air grows colder. Suddenly its dark. We are called to come in. I smell the fall before I enter. The wind blows. The leaves blow, around me. I throw my arms out, I feel the fall, just as a child would.

I'm remembering. My hands are on the steering wheel and tears come to my eyes. "Fall in Maryland," its whats on my mind. More importantly, fall with my family. I'm alone in the car, just remembering and the music is drowned out by my feelings.

I love to play nostalgic memories through my mind but so often the feelings of the memory eludes me.

It seemed for once I could feel it, just as though I were there. I look out the window of my car, toward the sky and I smile at God. I am thankful for the memories that I don't just remember but the memories that I feel.

Are my ears bleeding?

There's been this constant rhythm in my health life lately: Nausea, headache, jaw tension, ear congestion, tired, dizzy. I thought I was going crazy, I though there were too many things wrong with me, I must be a hypochondriac -- I am, but only a little. And then, yesterday, I was swimming.

"Can you reach the bottom," my boyfriend, Brandon, asked me. Of course I could swim down to the bottom of a pool that was only ten feet deep. I was Kaitlin Prettyman, I could do anything. But lately, that hasn't been the Kaitlin I have always been so familiar with.

The dizziness throws off my balance and I no longer volunteer to climb trees and rescue the neighbors cat, I no longer swing, I no longer jump off of cliffs into the water and I no longer volunteer to be a dare devil.

So, when Brandon posed this question, directly after I swam across the pool in one breath (I might mention that he couldn't do this), I was on an adventure high--it doesn't take much with me.

I initially tried and came sputtering up seconds later. My ears hurt after going just four feet under. My ears hurt just the way they did when we went cliff jumping into a lake the month before. I remember them hurting because he kept asking me to jump from higher heights and I wouldn't because my ears hurt so stinking much.

Well, he told me, this time, to try exhaling with my mouth and nose plugged. He said this would pop my ears and I would be able to go further down. Normally he would be right; this trick would work.

It didn't work this time. I came up almost screaming. I went down four feet, tried the trick and it immediately felt like someone had stuck a knife in each of my ears.

I grabbed onto the side of the pool and held my ears. "Brandon," I said moments later, "Is there blood coming out of my ears?"

There wasn't but for hours my ears hurt.

I think I have found the cause of my problems. I called my mother that night--she's a nurse--because I was afraid of losing my hearing or having brain damage--thanks Brandon for sticking these ideas in my head.

My mother told me its not something thats a huge issue but I should get it checked out; it could be that my problems are stemming from my jaw or from an ear problem. Guess I will find out when I get around to making an appointment.

Black skin, white skin, brown skin, what skin?

"Why is the Republican Party basically poison for so many African Americans?"
Cain replied, "Because many African Americans have been brainwashed into not being open minded, not even considering a conservative point of view."

"A lot of these liberal, leftist folk in this country, that are black, they're more racist than the white people that they're claiming to be racist," Cain said Tuesday in a radio interview on the conservative Neal Boortz talk show.

I think I like Herman Cain because he's said what I've wanted to say for years. Growing up in Maryland, I had to deal with racism, as a white girl.

My first best friend was black and did I care? No, I didn't even notice. I didn't notice race until race was brought up. In elementary and middle school, I never looked at the "black" people any differently than the "white." As a matter of fact, I didn't even notice until high school. The black people would sit at their own table, sit at the back of the bus, the black people segregated themselves from the white, it was not done the other way.

Working at the gynecology office, right outside of D.C. (upper Marlboro area) I worked solely with black people. I was the minority. The doctors at the office were black, the nurses were black and most of the patients were black.

Did I care? No.

But the patients did, I guess. Sometimes I would get comments like, "I don't want to talk to you, where is the other receptionist [a black woman named Doris]?"

Some times they wouldn't talk to me on the phone because they could tell I was white or they wouldn't look at me when they check out. I even had them go so far as to ignore me when going to schedule a follow up appointment and look at Doris for assistance, even though she was on the other side of the room filing something and I was acting as receptionist.

Of course, living in Utah, which is mostly full of whites and hispanics, has given me a view into a whole other perspective. While sitting at lunch with some classmates they began to address the issue of race. They were intrigued that one of my white classmates had dated a black man. One classmate even went as far to say, "I don't date people that aren't my skin color."

I was not accustomed to such conversation but some of the people seated at lunch with me had never even conversed with someone black. I don't even think they knew that what they were saying would get them in a lot of trouble if they were saying it back in my home town.

Religion vs. Politics? Religion or politics? Religion + politics? Religion ... politics ...

I thought these two articles, one from the Washington Post and the other from a popular blog, sum up the whole issue of religion and politics. If you think about things rationally and logically, then its really not hard to understand why a political candidates religious beliefs are and aren't important when it comes to politics.

"As I wrote then, if you want to know where a candidate stands on same-sex marriage or domestic partnerships, fire away. But skip seeking a candidate’s interpretation of the Scriptures on homosexuality," Colbert I King, in his column for the Washington Post.

A lot of people will say "who cares" what their religious beliefs are and others will say that everything depends on their religious beliefs.

But it seems like Romney is drawing a lot of fire because he's a Mormon. I think its mostly because people have misconstrued or false ideas about his faith but I can't help but wonder why it should matter, when what we're really looking for is someone to save our economy. Honestly, thats what take precedence in my eyes. At the moment, I am not too worried about their stance on abortion, homosexuality or anything else.

I want someone to get in and fix the financial state of our country but I know its not that easy, when it comes to picking someone who will run our country.

I believe that we do need someone who has a belief in God. As our constitution and all the other things that our countries foundation stands upon are surrounded by God.

But of course, we must look a little deeper than that. The important question to ask is, "How will their religious affiliation is associated with their beliefs on issues?"

So, like I Colbert said in the beginning. We should be focusing on what their focus is in regards to same-sex marriage and domestic partnerships. But, I don't think focusing on how often they pray, whether they attend church regularly or if they where is garments is important.

How are those questions applicable? It would be like me asking what they eat for breakfast and whether they wear boxer or briefs.

Lets focus on whats important. Keeping our Country alive and united.

"People sometimes hold themselves back because they want to use racism as an excuse for them not being able to achieve what they want to achieve." Herman Cain

Deleting the undeletable

I see him, he sees me but neither of us knows that we're looking at the other. And I see the girl he's with, she's beautiful. I can't help but wonder "How dare he move on?" But then again, the man I'm pictured with is a hottie and so maybe he's thinking the same. But, wait, why does it matter? Why aren't we moving on?

Where am I viewing these pictures of my ex-boyfriend and his current lover? Facebook. Apparently Facebook jealousy is an issue. Funny how this social network can have such extreme effects on some and not others. Psychology Today, PsychCentral, Discovery News, MSNBC and other websites all referenced the increase in Facebook jealousy.

Of course their citation was mostly in regards to relationships. I have given into those kind of jealous moments while on Facebook but thats not my problem. I, occasionally, give into a little Facebook jealousy, a little Facebook resentment.

I see that my best friend is happily married, I see that an old friends is an amazing photographer, I see so many wonderful things about people and I find myself resenting them.

Mine really isn't about my relationship or ex-boyfriends though. I find myself resenting people for their happiness and I wonder why I've suddenly become like this.

Tell me, what is Facebook?

For so many people its a great way to build networks, make connections with people, plan events, and market. When I say market, I mean market yourself.

Why do we post pictures? Why do we tell everyone what we ate for breakfast? Why do I need to show everyone a picture every time I so much as scratch my butt. We love attention. Actually, we love positive attention. I find myself thinking that Facebook is a way of getting attention, making sure people don't forget us. And after a while that need to be seen, it transforms It becomes more than just a way to share your life with others. It becomes a means for people to resent us, to be jealous and we find ourselves liking the idea of that.

I admit. I've succumbed. I look at people's talents, people's accomplishments, people's smiling photos and I can't help but wish I had what they had and then I can't help but hate them--only a tinny, tiny little bit--for having what I can't.

I sit here and I strongly consider deleting this social network but not just because I'm turning into a embittered woman. But I won't delete it. I'm just restricting myself from getting on it, ever. I'll simply use email to check messages and such.

Its time consuming, it gives me the ability to stalk people that I don't need to be stalking. WASTE. I feel that its a waste. In my opinion it fosters hate, prevent healing from a relationship.

For many, its not a problem. But for others, it is. I've avoided deleting it because I don't want to lose contact with people but ... alas ... I think I will do away with this networking system that has nurtured the beast in me.

If those people want to get in contact with me, they will find a way and I will do the same.

That is all.

kprettywoman@yahoo.com

Fresh, innovative thoughts

Do those exist? Maybe. This is a fresh idea about how there may be no more worthwhile fresh, innovative thoughts. The end.

Going to prison

Ever been to prison? Me either. I would like to do some research there though. I have this idea. Introverts- people who look inward rather than outward. I think that introverts account for the population of violent prisoners than extroverts.

I want to design a questionnaire/survey that further investigates this theory. But, I don't just want to do a survey. I want to make this relevant to the world.

I want people to think about why they are introverts? Why there friends are introverts? Their children? Their relatives? What makes someone one extreme or the other? Of course, research says that most people fall in between the two, an almost perfect balance.

I don't believe this of prisoners, I don't believe this of more cynical, violent people. I think prisoners will greatly favor one side over the other and I'm willing to bet that introverts will be the all encompassing winner.

And then I want to take these facts, this quantitative research and do some qualitative. I want to do interviews with the prisoners. I want to find out why they are introverts, why they favor looking in rather than out. Do they feel like they can work on this perspective? Do they feel they can reach a balance.

What are your thoughts? Do you think my research would be worthwhile? Or does it not really have a place in the world at this time? Hmmmm, I'll let you decide. Leave me a comment.

Jobs

I didn't know what Apple was until I started the second semester of my freshman year in college. I had seen a few Apple products before that, but I had no idea of what amazing things had been denied me for so many years.

I didn't know what I wanted to say about Steve Jobs. I don't really know much about Steve Jobs. I know that this man brought some amazing technology advancements to our world.

But, what else do I know about Steve Jobs? I googled him. Wikipedia didn't say too much. I read a lot about his illness, about his contributions but I still didn't know WHO Steve Jobs was.

What kind of man was he? I still have no idea. But I know this, from all the posts, all the news updates ... I know that he was a phenomenal man.

It amazes me that a man who was worth billions, wasn't invincible. He died before he reached sixty. I guess it proves that no one is invincible. Patrick Swayze wasn't when he died two years ago from the same cancer. I wonder if the two ever met? Shared cancer stories?

All the money in the world can't save us from the inevitability of death. But I guess the main thing to focus on here is not the death of Steve Jobs but his contribution he had on society.

I know he gave us the ipod, the iphone the Mac computers but what else has he done? I don't know but his contributions to technology seem to be enough because all I know is that he changed my life.

Lets end it with your hand on my butt ... not.

A spit on the hand, a smack on the butt, a hug, a handshake, a smooch, a water balloon, a sarcastic comment, a high five, in a closet ... how should you end a first date, second date ... ?

I've had all the things I listed above happen at the end of a first date, except the hand spitting because if someone did that to me at the end of a first date, I'd be in jail for attempted murder.

Have you ever had a guy smack your butt at the end of a first date? Yep, I have. He was a total redneck. Honestly, it was hot at first because he was 6'3" with a good body and a forward personality but with that smack on the butt came a really old fashioned perspective on a woman's place in the world. I found out that this guy wanted to live out in the middle of nowhere, on a ranch and with a wife who would birth his babies, clean his house and cook his food. Please!

I've also ended a date in a closet. Weird. He wanted to make out in there, where they kept the hymn books and sacrament bread. Weirder. No worries, I said "no." I said to "no" to making out with this guy for 3 months and eventually said yes and then he broke my heart. I should've just walked away after the closet scene.

Anyway, back to my point. I don't think that this is the appropriate way to end a date. When it comes to a date, try doing it the right way at the end because thats what leaves the best impression, unless you don't want to leave an impression.

I guess it depends on how you know the person, what date number you are on and what you did for the date. But, lets just look at the first date.

Kiss - This has always been discouraged. I've done it but the relationship never went beyond kissing. So, maybe thats not the smartest way to end a date, no matter how thrilling and scintillating it may make things ... mmmmm there were some dates that ended this way and it was good times.

Hand shake - When a guy shakes my hand at the end of a date, all I hear is "you're revolting, I won't wrap my arms around you because you're diseased." Give me a handshake and I probably won't give you a second date. I give second dates when I know there is chemistry.

But there are exceptions to this. There are some hand shakes that have potential for future dates. I'm talking about the handshakes that seem to go on forever, with lots of implied meaning.

And, of course, I've initiated the handshake myself. I've only had to do this on blind dates or first meeting dates. Some of those guys were revolting (I intend no offense, but then again for some of them, I do).

But we're talking about guys with super chapped lips, body odor, The Penguin (Batman) characteristics, cleavage eyes and/or a revolting sexual sense of humor that gives me the willies.

High five - You give me a high five and I'll friend zone you for life. What are you? My basketball buddy? Lamo.

What have been your "end of date experiences?"

My oh my, am I happy?

I'm happy. I know there is always something I can fix. But I see my plans taking me places I never dreamed to go before. My perspective, once so small and narrow, has fish eyed and everything is so wide.

Let me tell you why I am happy.

First, I am beginning to get my relationship with God back in the right place. Being away taught me that I can't do it without him and yet I also can't make him do everything for me. I think many of us have this skewed idea of what God is, what he does. We see him as this person to relieve our guilt, to fix us when we feel guilt, to chase away all sorrow, all pain.

To me, that is not God. God is God. I love God. I want to please God. And so, I've decided to do what is right, what I feel inspired to feel is right. I will make God happy. I will obey the laws and guidance he's offered us and I will let his hand guide my feet where they must step next.

Second, I am getting a great education. I started graduate school at BYU about 5 months ago. I am loving it. I never understood what truly getting an education meant. Studying has become fun, work has become an intrigue. I have all these opportunities, ideas before me and I have no idea where to start but I'm excited for the direction I will soon choose to go.

Third, I have the necessary things in life. I have shelter, food, friends. I really can't complain. I am constantly offered opportunities to serve friends and family and even strangers in ways that I never even considered before.

Lastly, I have a man who loves me and I love him. I don't love him because I need to but because I choose to. I was happy with myself before and I am just as happy now, even though I know I still must grow in so many phenomenal ways. I always look forward to our adventures together. I love the perspective he offers. I love the love that he gives me. I love loving him. I love when he's happy, when he smiles. I hope to only bring good things to his life, I hope he knows that.

The relationship has been stressful, full of predicaments and obstacles but I feel that with each day, he begins to understand that I truly want to make him happy.

Anyway, this is my update. Its broad but I feel like it suits.

Unattended

I have to do,
to get you
"Do what?" you ask
I forget, I loose track
And suddenly, I remember
Its small, nothing but a tremor
all it takes is a little attention
and you survive
you rub yourself against the affection
thrive, smile and bask
but it doesn't last
and its gone
and you roam, as you wait
and wait and wait
soon you're filled with hate
you wonder, you go
I turn to find you, but where did you go?
So caught up was I
that I forgot to keep the affection of your eye

Rebelling

Months before she married, her finger was down her throat, she was indecisive, she cried a lot and she lost men like a stripper loses her clothes. She made attempts at school. She made attempts at work. She made attempts at everything but nothing worked. She used religion to build a wall around her, make her look happy but she knew she wasn't.

Convinced that marriage would fix her problems, she found a victim. She was desperate for a ring. Not from the phone, but from the hands of a man who would pull it from a box and make her hand glitter, her life glitter. So, after two weeks of dating, she was engaged and a couple months later she was married.

But what did that ring really symbolize to her? Happiness? She believed it make her happy, but would it really?

The temporary fix seemed to work. So many of her friends had married and now she could join the throng. She busied herself with marriage plans: the dress, the place, the people, the gynecologist, the birth control, the idea of sex. And then she was married.

She quit school, quit her job. She decided she was going to do what so many women before her had done. She would be a stay-at-home wife (not Mom) at 21.

So sheltered. Someday, years from now she would change, she would want something else . . . hopefully. But at the moment, she was living the dream. Her husband still had at least four years of college left and she was getting sex, friends to play with, an apartment to clean, someone to cook for (even though she only knew how to rub some chicken legs in flour and seasoning and slap it on a grill -- apparently thats cooking!). She struggled little, wanted for nothing, why would she?

But what happens when she grows up? What happens when she realizes that she's done nothing to contribute to the world . . . to her future family? All she can do is throw a "positive" attitude, judgments and some religious drivel at them.

How can she be an example? She had ample opportunities and she threw them away, never focused on anything except joining the throng of seemingly happy, ringed women around her. Her shallow perspective would teach her daughters that all they need to do is look pretty and get married.

Her young, judgmental attitude would drive away friends, family and children.

What went wrong? Oddly enough, marriage made this scenario what it is. A young woman whose mother told her she was never good enough, unless she looked perfect, acted perfect. A mother who discouraged her from dating short, "unattractive" guys and a mother who preached her version of the Gospel to a young, naive daughter.

My point, GET A GRIP! Women are getting married so young that they don't give themselves a chance to truly become one with themselves and God. Marriage is great . . . at the right time and at the right place.

BUT marriage will not fix all your problems. You don't become literally "sealed" to your spouse. You have to be able to function, bring something to contribute. So, women, get a grip on yourself, get your head out of men's butts and learn to think for yourself, be happy with yourself, do something to make you who you need to be.

Marriage isn't an escape! Its an opportunity to become even better. Remember that.

Don't marry someone when you're not happy with your life, when you're depressed; that temporary fix won't work. You need to learn to be happy with yourself first, learn to explore the world, to be non-judgmental.

I speak the truth . . . marriage can be . . . bleh

I find myself trying to understand how a person can give up all the men in the world, except one, for the rest of their life. I hear things like, "when you know, you know" or "when its right, its right." I think this theory is garbage.

It had nothing to do with timing; lightning didn't strike the first time your eyes met and there were no pointed arrows sticking you in the bum.

I feel like Cary Grant at the beggining of Arsenic and Old Lace, I am a cynic when it comes to marriage. I think women and men give up too much when they get married too young. I hear so many women say they wish they had stayed single longer. Why? Because its great, for an adequate amount of time--when I say adequate, I mean 25 or older. I can think of 17 wrong reasons for why people get married, but they will swear up and down that none of these are the reason when really it is. A lot of these reasons are reasons for why I considered marrying men in the past, but don't worry I didn't.

1) Just like when you've had one too many shots, you've been dumped so many times that your vision has become blurred and your judgment is skewed
*2) You're young and still believe in "happily ever after." You've know him for two weeks and you just know that he's "the one." Preconceived notions like this immediately put blinders on you. You'll justify all the things you hate about him because you knew from the beginning it was "right." I can almost guarantee that in five years you'll be divorced or wishing to be.
**3) He's hot.
4) and you're not. You know that he's BETTER than you, so you convince yourself to marry him.
*5) The physical stuff is GREAT. Holding hands, kissing, lust . . . chains, whips, whatever. All this is great and so when he constantly criticizes you its OK because he knows how to hold you just right.
6) You don't know how to dump him. You can't leave him, he's been hurt so many times before.
********7) He's loaded (This IS a good reason, to me)
8) You're lonely (aka desperate)
9) You're ready to make a baby or at least practice . . .
10) which leads to, you're bored. Get married and there will be sex and someone to listen to your mindless rambling, every night and day.
*11) You're not happy, so you think marriage will fix it. You need to fix your hell before you bring someone else into it.
12) You think its the "righteous thing to do." Getting married early doesn't make you more righteous or "better"
13) You've done everything else, why not try something new?
14) You want to wear a beautiful dress.
*13) You can concentrate on other things besides dating when you're married
*14) Protection, they make you feel safe
15) Marriage makes you happy . . . since when?
*16) LOVE (aka LUST)
*17) Everyone else is doing it . . . (there is a pun in there)

Time for an update

What is water?

It sprays me, I sip it, I splash
There’s plenty of this stuff
No one will take it away from me or
Say, “no more, there isn’t enough”
So, I sip some more
Think nothing of it
While she cups it
Licks it
And then she wakes
To the swollen stomach and she shakes
And they cry, “there is no more, there isn’t enough”

Chained

The muzzle chokes, no more nuzzles for this wolf,
No more pack filled, chilled night, no more howling at the moon
Instead I lurk in this never-ending gloom
The glitter of stars upon my teeth is no more
Instead there’s scraps and rotten gore
And I swallow, the fur of others in my throat
I hack, I cough, I choke
The chain around my neck tightens
And I fall, its been so long since I walked, and now I crawl
The rapture of capture
I see this beginning as it ends
The heart of the wild within, it spends
And I pull, I twist, the chain is tighter
The moon, behind my eyes, grows brighter
And this wild heart of mine dies
My spirit in me gasps, it flies

I HATE DOGS

I pull out the vacuum. The sun shines on the floor, the dog hair is illuminated. And suddenly, everything is illuminated. If I choose this life I will be vacuuming up dog hair for the rest of my life.

When did dog hair bring such clarity to life? I guess it really wasn't the dog hair, it was the dog. I look to the future.

I can't stand the idea of putting my baby on the floor where a dog was just drooling, licking their junk, scratching themselves.

Sometimes I breathe and I can feel the hair in my throat. I drop an article of clothing on the floor and its ruined because its coated in dog hair. But, is it just the hair? No, its the smell, the smell of a dog that hasn't been properly groomed, ever. Revolting.

I hate when he watches us eat, I hate the twin strings of drool that form at the side of his mouth and slowly make their way down to the floor. I hate when the strings of drool get wiped on the floor, the couch or worse me. I hate walking on the floor barefoot, knowing that he's drooled pretty much everywhere and now its crusted on the carpet.

I hate cleaning up the accidents in the house. There are a million other things I could complain about but the point is, I hate dogs. I've fought saying that for years. I know how it offends so many to hear those words.

How could I hate mans best friend? Well, he ain't my best friend. So, they may be a man's best friend but who cleans up the dogs hair, cleans up his vomit? Not the man, that's for sure.

People will probably stop talking to me because I'm an awful person, a heartless person. But why would I love dogs? There are more reasons for me to hate them than to love them.

Not only are they disgusting but we waste millions of dollars on our dog every year. Dogs are a waste of money, a waste of space, just a waste. The end.

I, a rose

Once beautiful closed,
Still beautiful open.
A breath of something new, but always familiar.
It sprays the air.
The breath, my breath . . . I, a rose,
Arose into the air.
And I breathe, inhale.
I begin to fall, to fail,
But I breathe again, air is in, air is tight
And then there is light.
The unfurling of petals
The buzz above me, they touch me, take me.
The rain is cold, feels right
I live on, yet I die
And spring comes, I sigh

Disease, disorder, condition . . . whatever it is, I am shy.

I threw the math book at the wall. I cried. It was the last time I would cry for 7 years. I gave into what I what I later knew was giving up. I stopped crying. It was probably the second day of my sophomore year of high school when this happened.

I remember the first day of high school I almost wet myself, almost vomited because I was so scared. I have no idea what I feared; I guess I feared everything. Of course, everyone is nervous the first day of school but my feelings of fear didn't fade.

Each day I was nervous. Each day I yearned to cry. Each day I sat quietly in class. I said nothing. I received lower grades in some classes because I couldn't meet the participation requirement; I was too scared to raise my hand.

I was the wall flower. At activities outside of school I always stood alone. No one passed the ball to me at soccer, no one would be my partner during warm ups.

I had no friends in high school. I sat at my own table, by myself, for two years. My last year at school was spent in the library. I was voted "shyest" my senior year. They put a picture of me in the yearbook. I was known as the "quiet, smart girl."

I was ashamed, embarrassed, sad, scared and lonely.

What was wrong with me? Why couldn't I be like everyone else?

I realize now know what was wrong with me; I was shy. Some wouldn't call it a disorder but I suffered; I suffered in silence.

I did some research on shyness. The definition is a, "Chronic and longstanding fear of negative evaluation and tendency to avoid interpersonal situations without a guarantee of acceptance and support, accompanied by significant fears of embarrassment and shame in social interaction.

And it seems that this "condition" is quite significant because the site continues to say the percentage, "of adults in the United States reporting that they are chronically shy, such that it presents a problem in their lives, had been reported at 40%, plus or minus 3%, since the early 1970's."

And it was a problem for me. In elementary school I used to swing alone. On the bus, no one would talk to me. My classmates picked on me for my shyness and so the silence remained. I was so engrossed in what people would think, in myself, that I wouldn't speak, I wouldn't act.

I missed a lot of opportunities. I learned so little. I was always afraid to ask questions, ask for help. I was afraid to use my voice. I remember I wanted to be a singer but you have to talk first to sing and I wouldn't talk.

I knew I had a problem. Its funny, people ask why I chose communication as my major. Some people would say its an easy major. Communication was the hardest major for me. I knew it would be. I chose it because I wanted to do what I thought I could never do.

But I think my shyness became worse with time instead of better during my first year of college. I spent most of it in my dorm room. I didn't want to but I was too afraid to go anywhere else. I sat in my room for two semester and I wrote, I daydreamed, I called my Mom, I let my roommate degrade and demean me. My moments of happiness at that time were when I would sneak away to play piano or when I was in my psychology class learning about the human mind.

I began to think my problem was a lack of motivation but that wasn't it. I yearned to work, I yearned to fall in love, I yearned for friends but I was afraid.

There are other tales of people who have been crippled by their shyness too. One woman, Helen Rivas-Rose wrote a book on how shyness affected her and how she eventually sought help, "she recalls how shyness affected every major choice she made in life, and how it made her feel ashamed, and alone."

Of course many people confuse shyness with introversion but I am not an introvert at heart. I love being around people, I love doing group activities when I don't let my shyness control me.

And shyness wasn't really considered a medical condition until the 1990's and it was defined as a "social phobia." There are medications, therapy that can be sought for this so called disorder; and maybe its necessary for some extreme cases.

Susan Cann, a writer for the New York Times says there are cases of people who won't leave their apartment to go to a job interview, a date or even a meal.

I believe there were instances where I could've become that extreme. If I weren't so aware of how negatively my shyness affected me. There were days I didn't want to get out of bed because I feared the social sphere outside my house. But because I am so strongly aware of this disorder and I find ways to overcome it.

But I was lucky. Life dragged the silence from me. I was poor. I couldn't continue going through college without a job. And so, my sophomore year I acquired a job. I also acquired friends. Of course, I didn't immediately change. There are still days that I have to truly work at it.

My mother always said it was low self-esteem, and I agree that was part of my problem but my main problem was an irrational fear of social situations. I was literally scared of what others thoughts were toward me.

And my mother did exactly what she should do. She gave me opportunities, she gave me encouragement, she pushed me, she had faith in me. There were times where my fear confused her, angered her but she never criticized me for it. Instead, she constantly gave me opportunities to battle it.

I think she internally knew that this was something I had to overcome on my own. She knew she couldn't hold my hand but she also knew she couldn't abandon me either. She simply believed in me.

It's been a few years since my freshman year of college. I've grown enormously. People who knew me before are shocked by the change. I graduated from college, I acquired a boyfriend. I have a job. I am going to BYU for my masters. I live on my own in Utah and I almost never lonely, never alone. I live the realistic dream that once seemed so unreachable.

I still struggle to be the extrovert I want to be. I have my regrets. Sometimes I wish I could've understood my problem sooner, I wish I could've done so many things differently. But maybe this was my purpose. Maybe I was supposed to learn from this disorder that once crippled me.

There are books that spew out loads of ideas on how to overcome shyness but I believe there is a very simple cure for shyness: DO all those things you dream of doing; DO all those realistic dreams you spin within your head; DO instead of think, push yourself.

Its almost like the "Yes Man;" I say yes to things I am scared to do but know I would love to do.

I said in the beginning that I didn't cry for years. I thought I was holding strong by being quiet, by appearing emotionless on the outside while suffering inside. I cry now and I feel stronger for it. I show people how I feel, I tell people how I feel and I do what I feel.