Thats me in the background!

Ughhhhh, go Jimmer . . .

Ugh if I ever run into Jimmer Fridette, while at BYU, I am going to plant one on him -- and I'm not talking about my lips - - I'm talking about a fist, in his mouth. Actually, I may just kick him in the shin, maybe then I really wouldn't have to hear about him anymore.

Ok, so I don't really have any particular qualms with Jimmer. I guess its really not his fault that I see, hear, eat, drink his name everywhere -- he's practically being shoved down my throat.

It might be the fact that I'm interning with Deseret News or it might be the fact that I'm attending grad school at BYU in the fall, I'm really not sure which or if its either that factor into the constant assault on my ears with the name Jimmer, but I really think we need to give his name a break.

Why don't we try out a different name? How about Kaitlin Prettyman? That falls from the tongue rather nicely, wouldn't you say? I mean it’s a normal first name with a very attractive last name. And just as the last name is attractive, so are all the people that own this last name.

I think Jimmer's name could use a break. And if you don't want to use mine how about we use names like Gov. Gary Herbert who just helped pass a law making it even harder to access government documents, or how about Gaddaffi a man who is causing the deaths of thousands because he won't stand down as leader of Libya.

I don't know, should'nt we focus on more serious things than Jimmer Fredette and his girlfriend or that he didn't serve a mission or how great he shoots a basketball? But I am speaking blaspheme here, aren't I?

So, in order to preserve my name and life, I will end this post by saying, "Go Jimmer!" :P

Because of this I am beautiful

"Shake, shake, shake, shake, shake, shake . . . shake your booty." Did I just quote this song? Why yes, I did. I have a booty to shake. Actually, I have quite the booty to shake.

I now begin to realize that the horrific monster that wondered the halls of high school and sought refuge in work at the office during college is no longer a monster. The monster is not a monster but a woman, an attractive woman at that.

I'm still startled when a seemingly attractive or even seemingly unattractive man says that I'm beautiful (I can be no judge, we all have our unique brand of "hot" "sexy" "beautiful" that we apply to the members of the opposite gender).

Bear in mind, I'm not talking about my Grandma anymore or the old guys in church; I used to get compliments from them all the time, back in the "ugly days". They were probably hallucinating from their meds or in my grandma's case, not wearing their glasses.

But now, men with good vision tell me I'm beautiful and I don't know what to think. I used to always think it was a ploy, an easy way to get in an average girl's pants. But now, now I don't know what to think.

I know we are all beautiful children of God, but I always thought I was the exception. I was the ugly duckling that would always be ugly. Something happened a long the way. I'm not ugly.

I still look in the mirror, I still see this chubby wannabe but at the same time I realize that I have a lot to offer.

But its more than just a butt, a chest, a waste-line, a decent wardrobe; I've developed a mind, an air of confidence. I'm a woman on a mission, no longer a girl with no ambition.

While I am still kind, while I still listen, I feel no shame in sharing my opinions, I feel no shame in sharing who I am really am. I hide behind no mask; I act how I want. I think this makes me beautiful, makes me desirable.

Really, I could only change so much physically. I think the true beauty is that I've become who I have wanted to be. While the refining process will never be finished, I still like who I am aspiring to be and because of this I am beautiful.

Super moon brings super feelings

Super full perigee moon this weekend. This will be the first in almost 20 years and there won't be another for almost 20 years. Do you know where I was the last time we had one of these?

I'm not really sure. I was 2-years-old. I was probably in Richmond, VA. Can I imagine where I will be for the next one? No idea.

I will probably be fatter, have more wrinkles. For all I know, I could be in a foreign country, covering a national crisis.

Maybe I will be barefoot, in the kitchen, with a bun in the oven -- and I'm not talking about a literal bun in an oven.

Will I be on my back, looking at the moon, surrounded by a passel of brats I call my children; or will I be in the arms of yet another lover; or will I be in Afghanistan, fearing for my life because the light of the moon exposes me to enemy eyes?

Maybe my imagination is getting away from me, but all these things could be possible . . . well kind of.

But my imagination is what comes to life when I look at the moon. Romance, mystery, atmosphere; the moon brings on so many feelings. A "super moon" will just intensify these feelings.

Wonder how crazy I will get?

Not much to say

There is so much I could say about this weekend. A lot of hurt. "My man" showed up Friday morning. He was great for about ten minutes and then that greatness came to an abrupt stop.

I found myself crying Friday night, in the park, by myself. I didn't need a lot of communication, a lot of hints to notice he'd pulled away. All the plans, the hopes I had for that weekend seemed to end. But while those ended, a lot of the insecurities and all the unknowing melted away. He made it easy to walk away.

But I felt as I had felt just a year ago. I used to walk in the cold, in the park, by myself and tear up. I was in love with a man that didn't love me back then. Of course he was just "first love" lameness but those always seem to sting the most, probably because they're the most embarrassing.

I never trusted this last one; I actually expected what was coming; he's done this to me plenty of times before. I guess, in the long run, I'm just thankful I never fell for him. I was always dating other guys while talking to him. Towards the end I felt torn. I just couldn't give him my all, and now I see it was for good reason. I would've dated a man with a lot of baggage. And while I was willing to accept that baggage as my own, maybe I am lucky I didn't. It would've been a heavy burden to shoulder.

At least I got to see the Briscoes and their cute kids! That weekend I realized that I missed the guy I'd left in Salt Lake City, the guy who treated me like a princess, the guy who was always giving, always wanted to make me happy.

I guess I have Matt to thank for helping to make me realize how much I missed my Salt Lake guy, Brandon. And while the relationship is still very confusing, and while I'm still struggling to understand if its right, I still feel its better than what flew to see me last week.

I think what upset me most was losing my scriptures. I'm highly upset about this. Those scriptures were amazing. I had so much highlighting and notes written in them. They will be highly missed.

And so, I could dwell on this creature, this confusing, selfish person that I pity more than anything else but instead I will think of happier things. I went on a picnic at the park a couple days ago, it was ideal. Made me smile :)

I'm just scared I'll reach for the wrong things or push away the right things. Ever feel this way? Its a common occurrence in my life.

The Weekend :P

Meh. There will be no photos.