Mmmmm, Salad cake

So, Sunday night I went with Heather to her brother's house in Pleasant Grove for her birthday dinner. I do this a lot. (okay, not the birthday part, but the dinner part). And Heather's sister-in-law is a professional cake maker. This is Heather, the DIETETICS MAJOR's, birthday cake. Hehehe.Yeah, it was pretty awesome. Then we watched the first half of Sense and Sensibility on Masterworks of Literature on PBS. I think I like this cast better than the one in the Hollywood movie of it. Willoughby is so cute, you almost catch yourself liking him, before you remember what a scoundrel he is. And Edward is dang cute. Not even kidding. Those are my thoughts on the matter, at least.

Me = Skin Cancer Risk

I just think it was funny how my entire lecture today in Biology was about UVA and UVB light, melanocytes, melanin, freckles, moles, and melanoma. Especially how the extra pale ones are super prone to get really deadly cancer. Basically, I'm doomed. Gee, thanks, parents. I love you too.

Officially Declared HEATHER DAY

So, today (well, this is going up after midnight, so yesterday) was the birthday of ma camarade de chambre, Heather Michelle. Look at her, isn't she lovely?
Yeah, I'm not actually this cruel. Here's a good picture I have of her, showing when she gets that goop washed off her face and actually puts makeup on :) (This was in the case of "Man Night"). I officially declare this blog as an homage to my lovely, wonderful, incredibly eccentric and spontaneous roommate, Heather Michelle. (I would have Jason Castro's version of "Michelle" going on in the background with my voice spontaneously yelling "Heather!" before all the "michelles" in the song. I sing the "Heather Michelle" version all the time...but I don't know how to do sound clips, especially since we haven't actually recorded our lives yet, as we've always planned to...)
Anyways, this is to Heather.
Once, there was a girl, who had the most awesome roommate in the world. The roommate's name was Britt. And this roommate loved the girl totally a lot, because the girl (whose name happened to be Heather) could make some MEAN chocolate souffle and could cause incredibly spontaneous things to happen, such as losing one's hair virginity. Yes, I said it. I have officially used chemicals to change the color of my hair. And it is all due to Heather. NOTE: my hair in this picture is not accurate. it has recently been sliced super-super short. like awesome rockstar short. it's pretty cool and very avant-guard :P
Anyways, back to the story. One day, this girl (named Heather) came home from a rather exciting shopping excursion with her very interesting sister-in-law and announced that she had fish. Not one, but two beta fish came to be apart of their household. Their names were Fred and Ginger. They lived in a cute little divided tank with blue rocks at the bottom that caused severe chemical problems in the water. The saddest thing was, these fish were not allowed, and would have to be stored under the bed during cleaning checks *gasps!*.
However, tragedy was to strike. But a few short days after the adoption of our beloved friends, poor Ginger suffered a fatal...death, and floated to the top of her tank, belly-up. The inhabitants of apartment 279, especially the new widower Fred, were heartbroken. Shortly thereafter, a funeral was held and Ginger's body was given to the porcelain gods.
Fred became one of those lovely merry widowers that has a sweet bachelor pad, as the divider was taken out, the poisonous rocks were removed, and his water was made super clean.
Back to our story, Heather and Britt very quickly became addicts of a certain show called American Idol. They began as fans of a young boy from Utah named David Archuleta, and still love him dearly, but have since realized that his voice can't do much. He's kind of stuck to lyrical ballads. They have since decided to love 1) David Cook, because his awesome rocker-ness is so freaking awesome and they secretly think he's actually going to win, 2) Michael Johns, because he's Australian, way hot, and has an amazing voice, so could totally do the rocker thing too, but more awesome, and 3) Jason Castro. This third person they don't think will win, but they love him. They love him first and foremost because he's so incredibly attractive. They even like his dreads. And because his awesome, laid-back, Jack Johnson-esque style is really cool. Heather and Britt have become very open-minded concerning dread locks :)
Now that you know about my secret pop-culture obsession, I will drop out of the third person. It was getting kind of hard.
That's my life recently. And my seriously serious opinions on life, the universe, and everything.
--name that movie, by the way :)

"When nice ain't so nice"

So, I think that I read a really great essay today. I want to be that amazing. It was called "when nice ain't so nice" by Elouise Bell, who is awesome. It was how it was an incredibly different thing to be good than it is to be nice. She actually proved very scientifically how being "nice" is usually just a cover-up for either cruelty or incompetence, and being nice is only good if you really mean to be nice, not to just hide your real opinions. Say what you mean to say outright, and be real and blunt. She said that "True self" has been hidden by culture's need for the "Fake self". Nice should not be a substitute for competence. She referenced a poem called "On flunking a nice boy out of school" by John Ciardi, which I loved.
"It's three months work I want, and I'd sooner have it/ from the brassiest lumpkin in pimpledom, but have it/ than all these martyred repentances from you."

In other news, my hair is really short. I had a very windblown haircut on the sidewalk the other day when my mom just kind of whipped out her scissors and evened out a couple of places that Brooke had missed or done kind of weird. It was kind of funny. My downstairs neighbors probably think I'm crazy.
I have a lot of jelly beans on my bed. It makes me really happy.
I also think that my parent bought me WAY too many groceries. My dad kept saying "oh, she needs this." "oh, let's get her some of this" and thus, it doesn't even fit in my apartment. I now have a very full refrigerator, closet, even under my bed. It's truly ridiculous. Truly.
However, I won't complain, as they were free (yes!). Now I just need to figure out how the heck I'm going to pay for my next housing payment, which is both my last winter one, and my first spring one. It's kind of bad.

"This is the last stop. The end of the line. This is as far as we go."

So I rode the train to Salt Lake with my family today. They drove down yesterday and picked me up from my uncle's house in American Fork where I had been for Easter weekend and brought me back to Provo for classes, but I skipped three out of five yesterday so I could hang out with them. Let me tell you. The train is really a crazy thing. There are even scarier people on that train than there are on UTA buses. And that's saying something. Well, as we pull into the last station in Sandy after the trip, the lovely lady's automated voice over the intercom announces, "Sandy Civic Center. This is the last stop. The end of the line. This is as far as we go." Can you be any more thorough? She should have added, "Everyone get off the train now."
Well, it was a party. I was totally playing hooky, and we totally had fun. We went up and took actual, honest-to-goodness tours of Temple Square and the Conference Center, since none of us had had a real tour in a billion years. Yeah, it was pretty cool. Most of it consisted of my parents and I oohing and aahing over the original Arnold Friberg paintings and the natural Utah landscape on the roof of the Conference Center and Parker counting pipes on all the organs, while everyone else stared vacantly at either ceiling or floor and periodically straightened their necks to whine about how hungry they were. It was great!
After all that business, the Whiting clan terrorized the Sandy Olive Garden, wiping out their entire supply of breadsticks and crayons in one blow. It was so good. We had gone in there starving, and by the time we got our meals, we were almost stuffed. It was great. Then we went and stormed my uncle's house one last time so my mom could visit her brother and actually get to talk to him. So basically, we had very intriguing conversation about killing chickens, how to get a pink mohawk to actually stay straight up, and why only really good comedy musicians can perform. I think my family is awesome. Now my parents have a copy of the game, the Great Delmuti. You should all ask to borrow it. It is AWESOME.
Well, now my sisters are preparing to sleep on my floor. They're sleeping over tonight and probably sleeping in while I'm in class tomorrow. Then they get to buy my groceries. Not even kidding. I get to get something good out of this deal!
Well, I'm off to shower. My hair is wonderful, but needs to be washed. I think I'll post a picture up with this post of my incredibly shorn rockstar hair that I have recently acquired. And when I say shorn rockstar hair, i'm not exaggerating. It's freakin' tight. Seriously. My awesome friend Brooke came over one day, sat me down in my kitchen, and started snippin'. The end result: I AM AWESOME. Now I just need some neon green highlights. Or maybe I'll dye the whole thing blue and pink. I haven't decided yet.
Love you all!

My life should be a movie.

Imagine that you are completely depressed, totally stressed out, and angry at the entire world. It's like Ms. Grant's AP History class all over again. Imagine that, at the same time, you woke up and found it to be pouring outside, and very sad and wet and dreary, and you had to walk half a mile uphill to work. Just imagine this.
Then, imagine that you're desperately going one last time to the Lost and Found, practically bursting into tears as you describe to the (rather cute) guy at the desk your nasty old wallet that has been missing. Imagine he gives it to you. You gasp, smile, wipe away what would have been tears, flirt (just a little) and go outside to walk that half a mile.
Now imagine that as soon as you open the door and walk out from under the awning, that the rain slows. You take a couple of steps and you can feel it get warmer, and brighter. The puddles of rain start to dry up, and the sun slips out from behind the clouds, brightening up the valley. The rain clouds slowly disappear and you can see the mountains again, green instead of snowy. Imagine that you get to work and it's a slow day, and everyone is happy.
Then imagine that as soon as you are finished, you go to the temple. There are a lot of people there, but it just means you get a few extra minutes to sit and ponder. Then imagine that as you go into the font, Brother Prince (the most awesome old guy in the world) says "hey, stranger. I haven't seen you in a whole week! where you been?" before he baptizes you. Imagine that everything in the world feels good. Imagine that.
My life should be a movie.

Due this week: EVERYTHING

Apparently, English Majors don't take midterms. We just write eight million papers a week. Can you say stress?

Gospel-Singing Clouds and Rather-Lost Wallets

Yes, I said it. I was a gospel-singing cloud. It is beautiful. Last night was the giant Spring Sing for my stake, in which each ward puts on a little mini-musical thing, and ours was Hercules. It was pretty fantastic. There were seven Muses (I was not one, though I rather wanted to be...) one Hercules, 0ne Meg, one Zeuz, one Hades, and myriad scenery, such as trees, clouds (me!), some pillars, and several guys trying to be a mountain. Yeah, not quite sure how that worked.
So, the Muses tell the story about how Herc went to BYU and met this girl that he really liked, then got ready to serve a mission. We then discover (with some very carefully placed dialogue) that Meg doesn't appreciate this. She wants him to stay with her. Rather unsupportive girlfriend, if you ask me. However, all is fixed with a rather disjointed version of "Go the Distance/I won't say I'm in Love" in which there is a furious battle of the sexes and the scenery all begins to dance across the stage with ribbons...yeah, that was fun. Herc then has to make his decision, all the while some sock puppets representing Zeus and Hades are on his shoulder: Hades, "You don't want to go on a mission! She's a hottie!" Zeus, "REMEMBER" (while reading that line, imagine Mufasa's voice saying that--for any that know John Bomsta, imagine him with harry potter glasses with a beard attached, in a toga. yeah). He decides to go on a mission, but 6 months in, gets a Dear John. As he rips it up, all the scenery cheers, then it gets kind of awkward, then we begin to sing a stirring rendition of "a Star is Born". It was the production of the century, I tell you. I'm pretty sure ours was the best one. The weirdest one (don't tell anybody) was this ward that had the Lion King, and there was no story line. It was them singing African music and songs from Lion King while dancing around in brown clothing with serious face paint and incredibly ratted hair. I don't know how they're expecting their hair to be any kind of normal this morning.
There were a lot of skits about dances and RM's getting engaged. It was great.
So, the night was an overall success, full of great marvels and lots of reveling in ridiculous BYU jokes. Well, it was great until about midnight last night, when I was packing my bag for this morning right before I went to bed, and realized I had not my wallet. I have been to every lost and found on campus, asked the girl that I got a ride home with to check her car, and stared blankly at every nook and cranny in my rather-too-clean apartment. I'm slightly panicked and depressed right now. Luckily, I still have a wonderful supply of dried potatoes, macaroni and cheese, and rice. Good solid college food, to keep me going while stuck without any of my personal effects. Pray for me.

This is NOT the beginning.

This is the official continuation of the BYU Spontaneous Update. Plus random writings. There will be a lot more detail, a lot more entertaining stuff, and all around copious amounts of greatness on this blog. Thank you all for being so deliciously interested in my rather insane ramblings.