at least I have SOME street smarts

On Saturday, I had to go up to Murray for a photo shoot for my magazine class. Leaving at 7:00 a.m., I picked up Leslie and Erica and headed up to Murray to help arrange food for the camera. We were there for several hours and didn't leave until about 1:00. We loaded up the car, got on in, and then I attempted to start the car.


Acting in typical Charlotte fashion, I left the lights on. The battery died. However, thanks to my high-school car, Stella, I am a pro when it comes to jumper cables.

One of the girls in my class pulled up next to me, popped her hood, and I work my jumper cable magic. I totally know what I doing when it comes to car batteries.

Erica and Leslie were there cheering me on and looking cute, as always! And the true miracle of the day: by totally rebooting the car, the stereo system was resurrected!! So we listened to N*SYNC Greatest Hits on the way back to Provo.


esteem boost

My day was pretty good up until 5:10 when my critical theory class started. (I'll have to do a separate post about that and my frustrations regarding all theory and philosophy in general.) That class makes my brain hurt so much: I spend the entire two and a half hours desperately struggling to understand what the heck we're talking about and never quite succeeding. Plus today we got our essay exams back: I didn't do as bad as I thought I did, but I think I'll take the revision option and try for a better grade. Anyway, I left class worse than when I entered (and even more worse than usual, which is saying something, given that every time I leave that class I feel completely mentally drained and incompetent.)

Emily had said she was having a rough day, so I thought that after I had class we'd jet on over to Jason's Deli for a late dinner. That plan was even more excellent after my critical theory class ended. I picked her up, and we ordered the grilled cheese (two orders of grilled cheese=$4.29. Sham. Wow.). A few minutes after we started eating this whole group of high school guys come in, and then we hear pointed whistles and whoops. Rolling our eyes we continue our meal.

Then this fifteen-or-so-year-old comes over and asks if his friend can have Emily's number. Her reply: "I don't think so." Shot down.

About ten minutes later, this kid wearing pants with flaming Superman insignias all over them comes up and sits down next to me in the booth. We say hi and exchange all the normal salutatory formalities and then just sit there. Ummmm . . . . . . . Then the kid asks, "Is it weird that I just came over here and sat down?" I reply, "I was a little surprised."

Long pause.

Realizing that this kid wasn't going away any time soon, I started asking him questions: He's on the Hurricane basketball team, he has an older brother, he's thirteen, he's in eighth grade. The only way we got rid of him was by getting up to get some of the complementary soft serve ice cream. Throughout this whole encounter I couldn't look at Emily, because then I would have cracked up laughing.

Despite the ridiculousness of this situation, the attentions of this thirteen-year-old lifted my spirits. Shallow? Maybe. Hilarious? Definitely.


mirror of my life?

I've watched so much Gilmore Girls that sometimes I feel it is the mirror for my life (except for the slutty parts). That sounds shallow, and I don't really believe that--but kind of. Here's where I'm coming from:

So over my solitary weekend, I finished Gilmore Girls (yes, I have seen it all before--this was not the first time). At the end of season 7, Rory graduates from Yale and enters the "real world." As I've been figuring out housing for this next year, I've realized that next fall will mark my last year of college. Seriously, it doesn't seem so long ago that I came to BYU as a bright-eyed little freshman. Where did it all go?! (Ha, oh yeah: into over 90 credit hours of school.)

So watching the last episode of GG ever and seeing Rory head off into her unknown and sudden future (as a reporter on the Obama campaign--funny this aired a couple years before the election) induced a slight freak-out in me. The end of my student days is in sight. Sure it's still a little over a year off, but still. Sure I've pursued internships and seriously thought about my career path; I've felt great about my major and minor and have fortunately never had that directional life crisis. But thinking about my education and potential career plan in a practical way puts a whole new spin on life.

I was talking to Dad tonight and expressed some of my incredulity about being a real person, and he kindly softened my fear a bit by saying, "Well, you won't be quite a real person. You'll be a quasi–real person." Good to know that I can ease my way in a little.

Ha and my adult way of dealing with impending adulthood? Just don't think about it.


I'm having a really hard time focusing . . .

I'm supposed to be writing an intense essay exam about Heidegger, Kant, and de Man, due Thursday at 5:00. This is what I could come up with for an introductory paragraph:

Wordsworth isn't that difficult to read or understand, especially when compared with high thinkers like Kant, de Man, and Heidegger; hell! I'd read "Tintern Abbey" over "Phenomenality and Materiality in Kant" any day.

Needless to say, I'll have to do some revision.


left behind

Katie roadtripped to St. George. Anneli went home to West Jordan. Caitlin doesn't spend too much time in the apartment anyway. Emily laid claim on the car (very kindly, I might add :) ) and drove up to Bountiful. I am still in Provo.

You know me, though; I'm a pro self-entertainer. Give me Kraft Mac and Cheese, Gilmore Girls, and a stack of articles to edit, and I'm good to go for a three-day weekend.

I have not gone total hermit, however; I've seen Katelyn Friday, Saturday, and today, and Brooke has come over a couple of times.

An apartment with half of its tenants gone is a quiet apartment: it's ShamWow. This morning I woke up a little after 9:00, got ready, made some French toast, read my lessons for church (which I don't always do, however good my intentions are), slipped into my red patent leather pumps, and sashayed up to the Marb for sacrament meeting at 12:30. It was an extremely pleasant and relaxing morning.

I have one more night of relative apartment solitude, and I'm sitting here blogging, drinking a mug of cocoa, and watching the pilot of Gilmore Girls.

I'm okay being left behind.


this seems ironic for Valentine's Day

What is it about running into an old boyfriend at Smith's in the cereal aisle, taking control of the conversation, asserting your disappointments, and refusing any more crap (yes, Mom, I felt this was an appropriate use of crap) that is so I-am-woman invigorating yet so filled with incredulity all at the same time? What the heck?


my number one

Let me kick this post off with a recent anecdote: Yesterday was a rough day. That intense abdominal pain I had back over break returned, though thankfully not as bad as it was last time. But nevertheless, my stomach was hurting so bad I walked with a slight hunch. To try and mitigate the pain, I subconsciously tensed up my entire back, which made my back ache because it was so tight. By the time I was ready to leave campus, my stomach was hurting even more. Plus my book bag was way heavier than usual because of my computer. Plus it had started snowing. Plus I wasn't wearing comfortable shoes. Plus my umbrella was broken. The thought of walking all the way home--all the way across campus plus the four-ish blocks down 7th--filled me with absolute dread.

Then a thought came into my head--and I know it was the Spirit giving me a solution--that said, "Hey Charlotte, what about the physics van?" Sure I don't work in the physics department anymore, but I know people who do work there, and Emily was still there. So I called, and Emily answered, and I finally started to cry. She was able to drive me home. And then she picked up stuff for me and kept me company for a few minutes that night while I stayed curled up on the couch.

Emily is my number one pal. Without her here, I know this school year would not have been as good as it has been. We see each other a few times a week, and even if I'm not in such a hot mood, she doesn't care, because she'll spend time with me even when I'm not in a great socializing mood. If I'm blue, she understands; if she's blue, I understand; if we're both blue, at least we're blue together.

She's my best and all-time number one friend. I can't tell you how much it meant for me to have Emily drop everything and take me home from campus. She takes me out to lunch on her meal plan every Friday, and if a Friday doesn't work, she finds a way to reschedule. Her acute sense of fashion and style motivate me to make even the most casual of outfits trendy. She's interested in what I do and listens to my grammar tangents. She loves me for me and accepts every part of me. She is such a great example of service, love, and kindness. She makes Provo so much more of a home for me, when my real home is far away.

I love her. She's my number one.


next best thing

On Friday night, a few girls from the ward and I went up to Katie's house up in Alpine to have a girls' night. Her house is super nice, and we had a ton of fun eating pizza, chips, M&Ms, playing karaoke, dancing, and watching "The Magic of Ordinary Days." I had lots of fun and was glad that I could get out of Provo and spend a bit of time in a real house.

But . . .

After I got back, I was a little blue because I wanted to just spend a Saturday in my house. Katie is so lucky to have her family close enough that she can just spend a Saturday with them and get her laundry done. I just wanted to be in my house with my family for a day :(

Good thing that Emily and I had plans to spend the afternoon at Michelle's! She sent me an email asking if Emily were interested in coming over and making valentines--um, heck yes!! And then she asked me probably one of the best questions I've ever been asked: what is your ultimate home-cooking wish? WAH!!! We chose homemade rolls :) And Michelle gave us each our own bag of rolls to hoard. ShamWow.

That afternoon was just what I needed. I had such a great afternoon spending time with Michelle and her family--if my family is 500 miles away, then this is definitely the next best thing.



I love Sundays. Church today was just so great: Sacrament meeting was excellent, with the talks centering on Elder Wirthlin's talk "Come What May." In Sunday School we talked about personal revelation, and in Relief Society the lesson was about Elijah and the heavens being opened.

I was just overwhelmed with gratitude for so many things: my parents, my siblings, eternal families, my future eternal family, the Holy Ghost, the Plan of Salvation--everything.

I feel happy with where I am in life, and I'm so certain about Heavenly Father's love for me. I feel so much more at peace with my unknown plan than I was a month ago.

I love Sundays.


a quick dump of my memory card

I've been taking pictures of some of the things I've been up to the past week or two but never got around to blogging about it in a timely manner. So here it all is: the hodgepodge mix of my end-of-January adventures:I had to sneak this picture: this girl was wearing no coat in 25 degree weather. What the heck.

My toilet was not flushing. Perhaps that's TMI, but there you have it. Our plungers are retarded. Emily took charge of the plunging and got toilet-watered.

Brooke and I watched "Signs" and made foil hats so the aliens couldn't read our minds.

We also made cake cones: cake batter baked in ice cream cones. I'd never had it before and really liked it!

This super cute necklace that used to be Grandma's broke.

Using Emily's pink tool kit, I used the pliers to fix it.

And . . . that was the last week of January.

I Should Acquire More Street Smarts

I wasn't at my apartment much yesterday. Class at 9:30, work until 5:00, Katelyn's until 6:00, home for two minutes to grab my violin, dinner with Emily until 6:45, class at 7:00, home for good at 9:00. Phew. It was an excellent day, actually, but I was really glad to be home for the night. I pulled up in front of my apartment and successfully parallel parked while being semi-distracted by the car that had just pulled out of my spot. Still distracted by the car from across the street, I turn off my lights, grab my violin, get out of the car, lock the door, and shut the door. I stopped being distracted by the car, turned around, and saw that the e-brake light in my car was still on. Then it dawns on me. . . . I left my keys in my car--with the car still on.

Keys in car, in ignition, car going (please disregard the really dirty window):

Locked door:

Uhhhhhhhh. . . . . .Shammit.

After Katie was the best and drove over to Emily's to get Emily's key to unlock my car, I retrieved my keys and commended the little car for holding out for so long.

Once my frustration subsided a bit, I pulled up WikiHow and tried to look up how to break into your car with a wire coat hanger. WikiHow had nothing to help me, but EHow did! However, the explanations were slightly confusing, and I was unsuccessful in creating a good mental image. (You'd think with my ghetto car, breaking in wouldn't be that hard, . . . but I couldn't do it, no matter how hard I tried.)

Suffice it to say, I need to work on my street smarts.


I'm a Gmail Girl!

I moved. My mailing address didn't change, but my cyber address certainly did. I was fed up with hotmail, its tendencies to delete my emails, its inability to sign me in for hours on end, and its disgusting banner ads. I converted.

I completed most of my move today when I was able to sign into my hotmail account, thus being able to start the transfer. Granted, movie emails isn' t nearly as crazy as actually moving, but tranferring to a different email account does take some time. I had to export all my contacts (which was actually really nice, because that I way I didn't have to manually reenter all my email contacts), forward the messages from my hotmail account that I want, and change emails on several external sites.

After just one day, I love gmail. I love that I can customize my template. I love that I can label all my messages and color code those messages. I love that it keeps all my messages that are replies (you know the "re: re: re: re:" messages) as one message instead of as a million. I love that I can just click on a different tab and get to my GoogleReader. I love that gmail accomodates my organizational compulsions. I love that gmail doesn't arbitrarily delete emails. I love the lack of ads.

The one perhaps frustrating aspect of my move was having to transfer my blog to my new blogger account; blogger wouldn't let me just change the email on my existing profile, so I had to completely transfer everything over to this new profile. (**For those of you whose blogs I read who have private blogs, could you send me an email to my new address? It's the same user name but just at gmail. Thanks :) ) This was a little tricky, but I succeeded. The one thing that makes me sad about a new blogger profile is that the count for how many times my profile has been looked at is now in the single digits. I know it doesn't matter, but seeing that my profile had been clicked on over 600 times was a nice ego boost.

I'm a full-fledged Gmail Girl!!



Last week my email server deleted all my emails from the previous week. All of them. And now it won't let me sign in. For the better part of two days I have been completely unable to access my messages. Ridiculous. Absurd.

As soon as I am able to sign in to my account, I will forward all needed emails to my new address. Gmail here I come.


ew ew ew ew ew ew ew

I don't even know how to introduce this post. Last week, I was snacking on some Goldfish crackers, only to discover several handfuls later that there were ants in the bag. I sprayed the inside of the bag with Raid, chucked the bag into the trash, and swished intensely with Listerine.

This morning, I hurriedly made a thermos of hot chocolate only to uncover at work dead ants in my cocoa. I was drinking ant cocoa.

What the heck?!?!

I am intensely disgusted.
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