tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15865682254208834332024-02-07T10:53:47.969-07:00sincerely, madAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02066049373739130729noreply@blogger.comBlogger215125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1586568225420883433.post-29021718321813157542015-09-07T16:09:00.000-06:002015-09-07T16:14:03.398-06:00dropping in<div style="text-align: justify;">
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hey! it's been a while, huh? i'm alive and well and so, so happy. sophomore year has quickly proven to be busy and full of people to meet and homework to do and money to earn, and i <i>love </i>it. seriously. sophomore year is bringing out this outgoing, hardworking, incredibly happy version of myself that i haven't seen 100% of in ages. it feels really good. the apartment is good, the roommates are good, the cooking is good, the yoga is good, the ward is good, the job is good, and i'm soaking up all of this time reconnecting with old friends after a few months and making plenty of new friends that i have a hunch will be around for quite a while. if i had known sophomore year was going to be this much fun, i would have skipped all of last year and jumped to right now!</div>
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sincerely, mad</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02066049373739130729noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1586568225420883433.post-61269957832501492702015-08-06T19:26:00.004-06:002015-08-06T19:30:47.639-06:00stories from a summer daycareA collection of stories from my days at daycare.<br />
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During the first week of summer camp, when we were all still learning names, one of the older girls, Betel, came up to me. She wanted to ask me a question, but first she was trying to get my attention by calling my name. The problem was, she didn't actually remember it. So she came up and said, "Miss..." and then glanced at my name tag. Then she looked back up at me and said, "Can I call you Miss Mary?" When I asked her why, she said just because she liked it, and when I told her that wasn't my name, she just sighed and walked away.<br />
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One day towards the beginning of the summer, I was sitting outside monitoring the bathrooms as all of the kids rotated through and changed into their swimsuits for the pool. My favorite little boy, Will, was chatting with me. I asked him when his birthday was, and it happened to be a few days after mine in February. I gasped and said, "Will! Mine's the 15th! We're almost birthday buddies!" Will thought about it for a second, then he looked at me and said, "We can still be best buddies though." My heart melted on the spot, and from that moment on, I gave that kid basically anything he wanted. The other teachers teased me about it because I couldn't bring myself to discipline him. Everyone, even some of the kids, knew that Will was my favorite. Whoops.<br />
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My favorite coworker, Laine, has 5 kids and a foster baby, and the younger kids often came in to work with her. Her youngest, Cameron, holds a special place in my heart. Most afternoons I worked with her mom, she would end up sitting on my lap taking selfies on my phone. I love Laine and her kids so much that I went to one of their swim meets. It helped that my best friend is one of their swim team coaches. I spent the whole night cheering on the kids and teaching Cameron how to use snapchat. Cameron also liked to say that we were twins or that we looked like sisters, because we both have curly brown hair and brown eyes. I love that girl.<br />
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Will's older brother, Luke, could be a pain in the neck, but he was also incredibly fun. Whenever he could, he was playing ping pong and beating everyone. Every once in a while he would ask to play me, and most of the time he won, but once or twice I beat him, and every time I did, he said it was the hardest match he'd played so far.<br />
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Another cute little boy, Javi, did the sweetest thing for me. One day he had fortune cookies in his lunch, so he gave one to one of the other workers, Miss Sarah. I teased him about it and asked him why he didn't have one for me, and then a few days later, when he was being difficult and not wanting to play the game, he asked to go get something out of his basket, baiting me by saying it was something he had brought for me. When I asked what it was, he said he had brought me a fortune cookie. Then he said he had two. I told him I only needed one, and then he said, "do you have a mom?" I told him I did, and then he nodded like he had known all along and said, "it's for her."<br />
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The only field trip I went on all summer long was to an outdoor zipline/ropes course. One little girl, Madisyn, was having a really hard time, getting scared and refusing to go forward. I spent a solid hour and a half following her around the most basic course, and when a little boy started pestering her to move faster and started bouncing on the rope, she turned around and told him to stop it, saying, "you're going to make me scared, and I was doing so. good."<br />
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One more Will story to end this collection: I went through a phase during the summer where I would color pictures to stay awake during the kids' free time. Will would always come up to the picture I was coloring and ask who it was for, and when I said no one or I didn't know yet, he always asked, "can I have it?"<br />
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Sincerely, madAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02066049373739130729noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1586568225420883433.post-42952254823886080982015-07-13T20:47:00.002-06:002015-07-13T20:47:58.039-06:00currently reading<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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You'd think an english major would read a ton, right? All genres, all authors, be on top of new release dates and what's happening in lit culture. Nope. Instead, you can find the english majors tucked away in dimly lit corners of the library, reading the words of writers long dead. By the time you power through a Saussure essay, the prospect of snuggling in with some fluff book isn't enough to open up droopy eyes. Hence my partial love affair with summer (i'll never appreciate the feeling of melting when you walk outside). No essays, no literary theory, just pure fluff. Just the way I like it. Not all of it is fluff, but it's definitely not Baudrillard. </div>
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Some of my recent favorites include humorous narrative essays, especially <a href="http://www.heynataliejean.com/" target="_blank">Natalie Holbrook's</a> first book and Mindy Kaling's <i>Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me? (And Other Concerns). </i>I'm also devouring anything along the creative/artsy lines. My absolute favorite is Austin Kleon's <i>Steal Like an Artist</i>. It's my most recent read, and although it was fast, I've already made a Target run for markers and log books and am planning a trip to the antique store and Paper Source for old books to black out and calendars to fill in. We're headed to the beach in a couple weeks and the prospect of countless hours to sit on the sand with my nose in a book has got me giddy. Add the endless possibilities to practice my photography by the sea, and you've got one happy camper over here.</div>
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Sincerely, mad</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02066049373739130729noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1586568225420883433.post-48744237502319213012015-07-04T21:19:00.001-06:002015-07-04T21:19:45.866-06:00fourth of july<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Would you believe it, but it's been three years since I celebrated Independence Day on American soil. (i know. is there a more obnoxious way to start this blog post?) And even though it was nice to be home for the Fourth, the highlight was definitely trying to perfect the sparkler/firework pic. It's so cliche, but it's like a milestone in a photog's life. (also trying to use photographer lingo. probably isn't making me any cooler;-)) So, let 2015 go down as the year we used up all of the sparklers trying to get the perfect picture and watched fireworks through the power lines while sitting on the sidewalk next to a super sketchy school.<br />
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Sincerely, mad</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02066049373739130729noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1586568225420883433.post-25365004970660959252015-06-28T08:16:00.000-06:002015-06-28T10:38:47.018-06:00change<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Hey everyone. Sorry for the silence. Some things are changing over here in terms of how I feel about the internet and privacy, so I'm making this blog private. I'm going to go ahead and make the vain assumption that people actually read this and are at least vaguely interested in what I have to say, so if you'd like access to my blog in the future, send me an email at maduffield {at} bellsouth {dot} net, or text me or talk to me. Chances are if I know you, or know people who know you, or have heard of you, I'll give you the link. I'm just trying to keep the future creepers out;-)</div>
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I hope you'll stick around!</div>
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Sincerely, mad</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02066049373739130729noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1586568225420883433.post-58611439453119678892015-06-13T22:27:00.001-06:002015-06-13T22:28:42.461-06:00amicalola falls<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicL9rbje47MC6b15lvqlMQu_tc73VbMCBOWkmyBoGjQJ2AgFU4H_OARfGUbaNAp1YURGzn6hUJKKsRN4s8NBnhMGUiX2JutDYZiQPN94jS82JEHJyo4twQts2wRaXOs6zVAThnpjy77xy_/s1600/IMG_7825.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicL9rbje47MC6b15lvqlMQu_tc73VbMCBOWkmyBoGjQJ2AgFU4H_OARfGUbaNAp1YURGzn6hUJKKsRN4s8NBnhMGUiX2JutDYZiQPN94jS82JEHJyo4twQts2wRaXOs6zVAThnpjy77xy_/s640/IMG_7825.JPG" width="426" /></a></div>
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Hello! I'm alive! This weekend I convinced the fam to drive an hour and half so we could go hike. Amicalola Falls is the tallest waterfall in Georgia, and the hike itself wasn't bad at all. Plus, it was the perfect way to bust out my new 50mm lens (i'm in love). The weather wasn't too hot and humid, all Georgia weather considered, and we got Costa Vida and Bruster's on the way home, so all in all a really good day. We're already talking about what outdoor adventure we'll take on next weekend!</div>
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This owl kept staring at G, and it was just the funniest thing.</div>
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Glad I get to take pictures of these goofs forever.</div>
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We are just dying over this picture! You can't zoom in or out with my lens, so we asked this guy to take our picture on the bridge, but it was a pretty tight squeeze. We told Mer to squat down so she wouldn't get cut off on the sides, but then the guy taking the picture cut her off on the bottom. Whoops!</div>
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Sincerely, mad</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02066049373739130729noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1586568225420883433.post-55030087207419588282015-05-20T22:42:00.002-06:002015-05-21T06:10:40.206-06:00strawberry picking<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I'm not much of one for strawberries, but I'm definitely one for the loads and loads of homemade strawberry jam sitting in the freezer. ;-)</div>
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Sincerely, mad</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02066049373739130729noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1586568225420883433.post-88798651313545257492015-05-08T13:44:00.000-06:002015-05-08T13:47:38.537-06:00new york new york new york<div style="text-align: justify;">
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It's my soul city, what can I say.</div>
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I always feel silly talking about things that make me grown up, because one of my least favorite things in the world is someone treating me like I'm younger than I am, and I feel like highlighting the "growing up" I'm doing just emphasizes the fact that I'm a baby adult. But I've mentioned this before and I'll mention it again- this blog is my coming of age story. An online journal of sorts. So if I want to write about how this is the first trip I've paid for by myself and how I've planned this and figured it all out by myself and how it makes me feel pretty grown up and special, gosh darn it I'm going to write about that. Because being a grown up is pretty rad.<br />
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Man, I love New York. I love the food (i'm talking to you shake shack and grimaldi's) I love the parks, I love the subway, I love Broadway- I just love the city. I could totally live in a tiny apartment that is way overpriced. I mean, I was on my own a few times and didn't get on the wrong subway train once. Not once! That's full blown New Yorker material right there.<br />
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My cousin took me down to SoHo and the Highline and Chelsea market and the West Village, and just when I thought I couldn't love New York anymore, my heart exploded. I saw the Friends building, had Jamaica juice (which is amazing and not pronounced like the country), walked the Highline (which is rivaling Central Park in fabulousness), and found the store of my dreams (paper source, you're wonderful. never change).<br />
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There's no way I could sum up an entire dream weekend in my soul city in a blog post that's less than 400 pages- I don't even know where to start! I'm already plotting how I'll spend next summer there, so if you know an editor in New York that needs an intern next summer, I'm available! Until then, I'll tame my travel bug by looking over and over the pics I took from the weekend and take full advantage of the internet by pretend apartment shopping. Until next time New York. One of these days I'll come to stay.<br />
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Sincerely, mad</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02066049373739130729noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1586568225420883433.post-77272238577999415532015-04-22T15:48:00.000-06:002015-04-22T15:48:30.104-06:00college: year one<div style="text-align: justify;">
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^^^self timer fail because this picture is an accurate representation of what it looks like to deal with college. also, it's one of my favorites.^^^</div>
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^^^i don't know what's going on with my foot either. it's fine.^^^</div>
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Welp, I've finished my freshman year of college. And as proof that I have fully immersed myself in byu culture, I present this little tidbit: I saw a sign that said "dating a mummy" and thought it meant going out with a British mom, not carbon dating a wrapped up Egyptian sarcophagus. Also, you get a bajillion roomie pictures in dorky creamery shirts. You're welcome<br />
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So instead of giving you a whole long essay of an introduction, why don't we just jump into the life lessons? You know, the ones I figured out this year that most of the rest of the world are already aware of? Ok.<br />
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First, and this one's the most important one, is don't stand in your own way. As a kid I always told myself I wasn't creative. I convinced myself that there wasn't a creative bone in my body because I could never get the teddy bear on the paper to look like the teddy bear in my head. But now I find myself taping watercolor designs to my closet door and browsing photography blogs in my spare time. I google dslr lenses and have a folder of my favorite pictures ever. Browsing Pinterest and Instagram is like my favorite thing. I've self designated myself the documenter of my little group of friends, and I kind of love it. So yeah, don't tell yourself that you're not this or that, because you totally can be.<br />
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Standing in your own way goes for making friends too. This year I dealt with a lot of internal things, issues that I've held on to for way too long. This year I finally hit the wall, the wall that was the tipping point between crumbling for good or just cracking a little bit. It wasn't until I started forgiving and going easier on myself that I was able to talk to people again, whether in the chickfila line or in class. I've held myself back from a lot of really great people and opportunities because I told myself I couldn't do it. I absolutely love where I am right now, but I'm determined not to let fear of failure or rejection continue to hold me back, because the only person telling me that I can't do it is myself. And that's just plain stupid.<br />
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Lesson number two- study for the dang test. Write the dang essay. I didn't learn this lesson until literally last weekend, but it pays off. I needed to get an 86 on a test and after the most stressful, nerve-wracking test of my life, preceded by lots of flashcard flipping and timeline drawing, I made an 87. An 8. 7. By the skin of my teeth y'all, but it happened. And even though I'm kind of laughing at how freaked out and nervous I was, and kind of thinking my weekend would have been way more fun if I'd watched netflix or gone hiking, and C's get degrees, right? Even though it was boring to study flashcards, seeing that 87 pop up on the screen was so rewarding guys. I forgot how exciting it is to get that grade you studied hard for. So study for the dang test already, even if watching friends is way more fun.<br />
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Also, I've discovered yoga, and guys, I've seen the light. Call me a hippie, but I totally dig the whole zen breathing thing. Take it slow guys. Plus, yoga is way harder than it looks. Just ask my aching back. I used to totally laugh at yoga and say it wasn't really exercise (jokes), so I guess this is kind of along the same lines as stop standing in your own way. Just get out of your head and do things, regardless of whether it's "cool" or "interesting" because it probably is, even if no one labels it as such.<br />
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And on the days where you do stand in your own way and you don't study for the test and you spend too much time sleeping/eating/watching netflix/reading, stop yelling at yourself, get a dirty dr pepper, walk around target, talk to your friends, and try again tomorrow.<br />
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So now I'm looking at four months away from this new town I call home and back in my little Georgia hometown. It'll be nice to have a break from essays and dorm life and endless reading assignments, but I'm not going to lie, I can't wait to get back out there with my girls and our apartment and my school. College, year one- check that off the bucket list.<br />
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Sincerely, mad</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02066049373739130729noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1586568225420883433.post-1113066507272963892015-04-18T12:21:00.000-06:002015-04-18T12:21:56.388-06:00mom status<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Girls are always saying things like "wife me" when they cook or do other domestic things. It's become almost a joke of sorts. But here's the thing guys. I actually <i>love</i> stuff like that. Laundry, cooking, running errands, all that good stuff. Give me some people to take care of and I'll be such a happy camper. I just love to be useful. Driving people around, dropping them off, picking up groceries, ironing the button ups, washing the sheets, wiping down the counter- it makes me feel productive and accomplished like no amount of finished homework can.</div>
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I never understood the whole spring cleaning thing until now. Maybe it's because I'm moving, maybe it's because I'm procrastinating, but I just want to box everything up and vacuum and dust and throw away and clean until my dorm room literally sparkles. This cleaning itch even travelled to my social media, where I cleaned up the list of people I follow. Cleaning and decluttering is actually addicting. I never understood until now. Does this mean I really am growing up?</div>
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Sara and I went to the creamery to spend all our leftover meal plan money the other day and we literally spent hundreds of dollars on soap and toilet paper and kitchen utensils and paper towels and a broom and even an ice cream cake for the people next to us in line. That was fun. They called me Mallory the Georgia Peach, which was adorable. I don't think my face has ever been so red, haha! Then, determined to make it to the dorm room in one trip, we sacrificed our circulation and carried dozens of grocery bags on our purple fingers. Sitting on the floor surrounded by different kinds of hand soap and handing things to Sara to put in our giant tupperware/storage bin was so satisfying. Then we vacuumed and I stuck a frozen lasagna in the oven. I love this life. For a few seconds it felt like we had a little home, our friends knocking on the door and the vacuum buzzing and the cleaning supplies packed away. Give me some people to be in charge of. I love playing homemaker.</div>
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A few days ago I was with my roommate at Target picking up some packing supplies (side note: guys, i LOVE target. i could browse the aisles forever/buy everything/live there). I was picking up giant plastic tupperware, you know, the kind for clothes and storage? Anyways, I was carrying them out of Target, and it was very awkward because they were rather large, and I looked ridiculous. And then again, just the other night I was making a creamery run for oreos and milk and popcorn for our last minute movie night, and I couldn't help but laugh at how ridiculous I looked. I had gone to yoga earlier, so I was in a loose striped tee and some leggings. I had gotten cold (because it was snowing. in april. c'mon provo), so I had thick socks pulled over my leggings, and the closest shoes I saw as I ran out the door were my birks. I looked positively ridiculous. And I loved it. No, relished in it. Here I was, grabbing some groceries, snacks for movie night and frozen dinners for later in the week when finals will be stressful and I'll need something decently nutritious, browsing the aisles for popcorn and comparing boxes of Stauffer's lasagna among the other adults in sweats and flip flops after a long day.</div>
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Here's the thing, guys, I love looking ridiculous. And when you think about it, that's a very stereotypical mom thing, looking ridiculous. Dancing ridiculously, dressing ridiculously (mom jeans. they're crazy comfy), embarrassing their children. I'm a fan of it. All of it. I mean, I know I'm only 19, and I'm not saying I am in any way shape or form ready to get married, nonetheless have kids. I'm just saying, when it happens, I think I'll rather like it.</div>
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Sincerely, mad</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02066049373739130729noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1586568225420883433.post-36191906996874280152015-04-04T16:46:00.003-06:002015-04-04T19:16:20.529-06:00portrait of a college freshman, right now<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PEEguPhcg7k/VSBpi1pSeAI/AAAAAAAATfw/pKODrwrofJg/s1600/IMG_6799.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PEEguPhcg7k/VSBpi1pSeAI/AAAAAAAATfw/pKODrwrofJg/s1600/IMG_6799.JPG" height="426" width="640" /></a></div>
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I didn't change out of my pajamas until after noon, and I've spent 75 percent of today in bed watching my church's semiannual broadcast and knitting a scarf I've been working on for over a year. I wore socks with bicycles on them with my birkenstocks to lunch, and I haven't washed my hair in a few days. Makeup is just not happening. I'm procrastinating my homework with logic puzzles and sorting through old photos. My bed got so rumpled that washing my sheets and starting over seemed easier than making the bed. James Bay's "Let It Go" is on repeat. There's a half empty bag of chocolate pretzels in between the little bites muffins and stack of cheese crackers on my shelf. My desk is a mess and my to do list only has like 2 things checked off. My roommate and I were up until 3 am talking about the latest edition of BYU's dating magazine and pinching ourselves because we'll be done with our first year of college in 17 days. This is real life right now- messy, imperfect, and really happy.</div>
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Sincerely, mad</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02066049373739130729noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1586568225420883433.post-21116903298356862512015-03-30T14:43:00.003-06:002015-04-01T00:29:07.121-06:00holi festival of colors<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3t8CY2LYqxk/VRmyk7hrWhI/AAAAAAAATZY/mg_A4zqdDbY/s1600/G0010183.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3t8CY2LYqxk/VRmyk7hrWhI/AAAAAAAATZY/mg_A4zqdDbY/s1600/G0010183.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
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^^^before^^^</div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JlAJkqsM-hk/VRmym8H4oOI/AAAAAAAATZs/XCmm0wr_3Xg/s1600/G0060237.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JlAJkqsM-hk/VRmym8H4oOI/AAAAAAAATZs/XCmm0wr_3Xg/s1600/G0060237.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hnB_BpsAeGA/VRmynlFGAOI/AAAAAAAATZ0/lLccLzswBM0/s1600/G0070254.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hnB_BpsAeGA/VRmynlFGAOI/AAAAAAAATZ0/lLccLzswBM0/s1600/G0070254.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--tZX5UHl_mM/VRmyohj697I/AAAAAAAATaE/NjdSyj72wPo/s1600/G0080290.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--tZX5UHl_mM/VRmyohj697I/AAAAAAAATaE/NjdSyj72wPo/s1600/G0080290.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Jbx_HDFtg78/VRmyxeHlnyI/AAAAAAAATcE/bpfs7KPWjQk/s1600/G0140429.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Jbx_HDFtg78/VRmyxeHlnyI/AAAAAAAATcE/bpfs7KPWjQk/s1600/G0140429.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
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^^^roommie lovin^^^</div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-E-aVVgU3Fqw/VRmyqcizhfI/AAAAAAAATak/ptaKSFGyVMU/s1600/G0100343.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-E-aVVgU3Fqw/VRmyqcizhfI/AAAAAAAATak/ptaKSFGyVMU/s1600/G0100343.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-fha-CLMs8nQ/VRmyyEtv8wI/AAAAAAAATcU/WRHZhxnob6Y/s1600/G0150463.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-fha-CLMs8nQ/VRmyyEtv8wI/AAAAAAAATcU/WRHZhxnob6Y/s1600/G0150463.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
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^^^after^^^</div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-GU7krbgnvrs/VRmyzUCgZfI/AAAAAAAATco/YdxHvLZVKsE/s1600/GOPR0248.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-GU7krbgnvrs/VRmyzUCgZfI/AAAAAAAATco/YdxHvLZVKsE/s1600/GOPR0248.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-O7Kwr0tfGwk/VRmyz2Hd0kI/AAAAAAAATcs/gEKt8daLbhE/s1600/GOPR0274.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-O7Kwr0tfGwk/VRmyz2Hd0kI/AAAAAAAATcs/gEKt8daLbhE/s1600/GOPR0274.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-lrHNr_bDEYo/VRmy0kU8bPI/AAAAAAAATc4/8ptJtrldFtQ/s1600/GOPR0277.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-lrHNr_bDEYo/VRmy0kU8bPI/AAAAAAAATc4/8ptJtrldFtQ/s1600/GOPR0277.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-tWjAliSWaO0/VRmyrrFOA1I/AAAAAAAATas/P33pcAJANLo/s1600/G0110368.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-tWjAliSWaO0/VRmyrrFOA1I/AAAAAAAATas/P33pcAJANLo/s1600/G0110368.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-lUhl5gYwzEU/VRmy24RKBUI/AAAAAAAATdY/h9o9XnYlYJM/s1600/GOPR0348.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-lUhl5gYwzEU/VRmy24RKBUI/AAAAAAAATdY/h9o9XnYlYJM/s1600/GOPR0348.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-La0G84YNSlA/VRmyslD2ovI/AAAAAAAATbA/HTmyDZADVZs/s1600/G0120395.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-La0G84YNSlA/VRmyslD2ovI/AAAAAAAATbA/HTmyDZADVZs/s1600/G0120395.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVyfpAZVN_CCAn20iJ8f7YF5phgxjvtR_5ehyfgmK_4MdgaLRH7a6RnFgOQpl8rOCuTM6zYCS7DV-gRAyFHv6wk5ZLlHsN6aFSz6MKSqRzubffnFa0PRK6jmkQTLMzXCKbKnsYqZkCnRgV/s1600/GOPR0383.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVyfpAZVN_CCAn20iJ8f7YF5phgxjvtR_5ehyfgmK_4MdgaLRH7a6RnFgOQpl8rOCuTM6zYCS7DV-gRAyFHv6wk5ZLlHsN6aFSz6MKSqRzubffnFa0PRK6jmkQTLMzXCKbKnsYqZkCnRgV/s1600/GOPR0383.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6ptoNesBZ_pvOHgEy1W6lGF247Dys553XzD2yzEuCXgz5wvt3nNDIwL8n_cv-hlgfRxUD0Mw8GhGjeOvn4i14gnQjAF9-qQK3PvLEeWKPYzd22tz0GB-Wkxj9uzPvlVBA1Y5SAjwzgLQ2/s1600/GOPR0375.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6ptoNesBZ_pvOHgEy1W6lGF247Dys553XzD2yzEuCXgz5wvt3nNDIwL8n_cv-hlgfRxUD0Mw8GhGjeOvn4i14gnQjAF9-qQK3PvLEeWKPYzd22tz0GB-Wkxj9uzPvlVBA1Y5SAjwzgLQ2/s1600/GOPR0375.JPG" height="358" width="640" /></a></div>
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/bY2cpwGi1nY/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="480" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/bY2cpwGi1nY?feature=player_embedded" width="690"></iframe></div>
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This weekend the girls and I did the stereotypical byu thang and partied it up at the Holi Festival of Colors. It's this big Hindu celebration at a temple in Spanish Fork, and basically you just throw chalk/paint stuff at each other. It was crazy! Super crowded, way too many people with no sense of personal space or boundaries, and Hayley is still sneezing pink. Also, on the walk back to the car, we passed two guys with llamas advertising for some big race/competition thing, so obviously selfies with Paxi the llama were in order. In this case, I think pictures and a video set to our theme song say it better than I could. College with these lovely ladies is the best.</div>
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Sincerely, mad</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02066049373739130729noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1586568225420883433.post-70802587579238957122015-03-27T19:26:00.000-06:002015-03-27T19:26:34.078-06:00a birks and books solo movie date<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-eEciHk-HrWo/VRYCSvAXizI/AAAAAAAATYs/ObsyL-j9z4Q/s1600/IMG_2411.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-eEciHk-HrWo/VRYCSvAXizI/AAAAAAAATYs/ObsyL-j9z4Q/s1600/IMG_2411.jpg" height="640" width="480" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-btx_dtQyHIg/VRYCSZeBzBI/AAAAAAAATYo/NNFS0qCwy0k/s1600/IMG_2409.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-btx_dtQyHIg/VRYCSZeBzBI/AAAAAAAATYo/NNFS0qCwy0k/s1600/IMG_2409.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIwXYUF-O-CU1rjzYOJUGI9cJfXg8h6Y70HD_4lpVf3IMpg71-oxEn51JBNLLMIToCpVllNlRWjsS3qHBGXLKw3vzq5cFndrIzj8ABIY8hQC4FD0zGY-2NgRLhhu2HCoXPUU6Kas8zq6JW/s1600/IMG_2414.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIwXYUF-O-CU1rjzYOJUGI9cJfXg8h6Y70HD_4lpVf3IMpg71-oxEn51JBNLLMIToCpVllNlRWjsS3qHBGXLKw3vzq5cFndrIzj8ABIY8hQC4FD0zGY-2NgRLhhu2HCoXPUU6Kas8zq6JW/s1600/IMG_2414.jpg" height="640" width="640" /></a></div>
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There is something empowering about going to a movie by yourself.</div>
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Let me explain. You see, I only have this one class on Friday, and a piano lesson, but this one class gets cancelled A LOT so I often find myself dressed and ready for the day by 9:30 with nothing to do. No roommate to hang out with (Sara works until 4), no cousin to bother for lunch (Erin has too many art classes), and there's only so much time my mother can spend listening to me ramble on the phone. So today, instead of doing the normal procrastinate homework routine of rewatching Friends and probably talking a nap, I decided to take myself on a little date. Some good old fashioned me time. I find myself pretty interesting company, so it works out. Also, I blew money on a pair of white birkenstocks so that I could think of myself as trendy, and even though my mother calls them ugly shoes (she has a point), I'm kind of in love with them and wanted a reason to leave my room and wear them. So.</div>
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Now, I do spend a lot of time by myself in my dorm room waiting for my friends to get out of their afternoon classes, but there's something special about being intentional about your time. So I set out to my car, then realized I left my car keys in my room. The thing is though, my car keys are attached to my room keys. So I had to run to the housing office and tell them I locked myself out, to which the guy at the desk smiled and said, "oh awesome," but he had a british accent so the sarcasm was ok. Then I did a drive thru tb run for my two crunchy tacos no lettuce please and thank you, then ate those in the parking lot before catching a matinee of Cinderella, which, guys, SO GOOD. There were only like five other people in the theater, and I prefer the back, so I put my legs on the seat in front of me and fist pumped when Ella stood up for herself and hugged my legs as the Prince promised to take her as she was, country girl and all. It was a sap fest on the third row from the back, let me tell ya. I even got myself a popcorn and a soda (even though what the heck is up with a $6 bag of popcorn), because, it was a date after all. I've got to be polite. Plus, no sharing, and that deserves a bag of popcorn on it's own.</div>
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After the movie I took myself to Barnes and Noble to wander the isles and find something nice to lose myself in. Have you ever noticed the doors? The doors at Barnes and Noble are magical. And I hate to say it but I am definitely not an old book smell type of person. I'm a new book smell kind of gal. All the uncracked spines and smooth thick pages, it ranks right up there with clean sheets and a freshly washed car. So chain stores like B&N are my Bath and Body Works.</div>
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Anyways, I grabbed the very last copy of Natalie Holbrook's book off the shelves and headed to the cafe to flip through it, and a couple minutes of flipping determined that yes, I really did need that book and yes, Natalie's writing style just gets me. So then I hopped back in the car to head back to the dorms, and then I swung by swig to grab a dirty dr pepper because why not? Sure it's the third time in three days, don't tell me how to live my life. I'm trying to fill up my punch card. Working towards a goal makes it ok, right?</div>
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Anyways, I guess the whole point of this rather pointless but highly important story is that I've stopped looking for reasons to celebrate or treat myself. If I'm not going to be nice to me, why should anyone else?</div>
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All in all, it's been a birks and books kind of day. With a side of popcorn and a dirty to match.</div>
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Sincerely, mad</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02066049373739130729noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1586568225420883433.post-19832119285664075102015-03-19T00:37:00.000-06:002015-03-19T00:37:56.433-06:00snaps from life lately<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kGIg4rvTrno/VQEYAQn8L1I/AAAAAAAATTY/hdKXSlZxFSE/s1600/3.11.15.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kGIg4rvTrno/VQEYAQn8L1I/AAAAAAAATTY/hdKXSlZxFSE/s1600/3.11.15.jpg" height="478" width="640" /></a></div>
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If you follow me on <a href="https://instagram.com/sincerelymad/" target="_blank">insta</a>, these are pretty familiar. But here are some snaps, recent and way old, that I've been proud of lately, whether they made the insta cut or not.</div>
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Sincerely, mad</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02066049373739130729noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1586568225420883433.post-11933638170017681692015-03-17T00:36:00.000-06:002015-03-17T00:36:57.718-06:00life in 52 weeks // week 6: what's in my bag<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-e1Y8KjyTjdU/VQNYF9YVw7I/AAAAAAAATVg/Rvz76AJbmM8/s1600/IMG_6606.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-e1Y8KjyTjdU/VQNYF9YVw7I/AAAAAAAATVg/Rvz76AJbmM8/s1600/IMG_6606.jpg" height="640" width="426" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-9UIdkgy1C2I/VQNYDvjedLI/AAAAAAAATVI/EnNjFmAbQb4/s1600/IMG_6600.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-9UIdkgy1C2I/VQNYDvjedLI/AAAAAAAATVI/EnNjFmAbQb4/s1600/IMG_6600.JPG" height="426" width="640" /></a><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3myM9fVZ9pA/VQNYDrHKi4I/AAAAAAAATVQ/QlisvYggLlE/s1600/IMG_6593.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3myM9fVZ9pA/VQNYDrHKi4I/AAAAAAAATVQ/QlisvYggLlE/s1600/IMG_6593.JPG" height="426" width="640" /></a><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-aAUec2-cnxY/VQNYD1Bf21I/AAAAAAAATVM/Uqxle6J0bY0/s1600/IMG_6581.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-aAUec2-cnxY/VQNYD1Bf21I/AAAAAAAATVM/Uqxle6J0bY0/s1600/IMG_6581.JPG" height="426" width="640" /></a></div>
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Surprise! I'm a slacker so I've skipped a couple of weeks of the photography thing. I'll do them eventually, over the summer or something. But for now, here is week 6!</div>
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First things first, let's just get the command hook out of the way. College, what are you going to do? I've got like 20 of them hanging on my side of the room alone.<br />
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Moving on to the photography! This is totally cheesy, but something they talked about in the little lesson plan was how even though taking a picture of what's in your bag may sound weird, think of how cool would it be to take a peek into your grandma's purse from her early twenties or teenage years. It would be sweet, right? So, for posterity, here's what's in my bag at the moment. Lots of lipstick and pens. Also, along the same lines, I thought it would be neat to snap a pic of what's in my makeup bin, for my grandkids and what not. I have a lot of hair ties and barrettes considering I never use them. Also, I could write a whole other post about my love affair with dry shampoo. </div>
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Sincerely, mad</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02066049373739130729noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1586568225420883433.post-88035635781980105092015-03-15T00:08:00.003-06:002015-03-17T08:48:36.175-06:00i'm falling in love...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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with Provo, that is.</div>
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This weekend, the girls and I set out to explore downtown Provo. And this little town is actually pretty darn cool. There are adorable little antique shops where you can buy everything from doctor's scales to handmade soap to mugs with llamas on them. There are so many quaint restaurants, shnazzy places with baby's breath in glass bottles and hipster lettering on their signs. There's hearts drawn in chalk on the bricks and a guy playing a nyckelharpa (which apparently has a structure similar to a hurdy-gurdy. i know, right?). There's old time-y buildings and a new temple under construction. And you can see Mount Timpanogos to the north just sitting there looking pretty with it's snow covered rocky precipices. You're stunning Mount Timp.<br />
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On Saturday, we took what we affectionately called a mental health day. It all started with Monica freaking out about how she hadn't started her essay and us all telling her that she had fun and that that's important. Hence, we took a mental health day. Because that's important too.<br />
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Quick backstory: our Friday night went like it normally does- we try something new, like walk around downtown Provo and eat dinner at the famous Malt Shoppe that looks like an old school diner straight out of the fifties, with a juke box and plastic red seat cushions and everything. Then, by 8 o'clock, we find ourselves in pjs on Sara's bed watching a movie. This week it was <i>The Theory of Everything</i> (which OH MY WORD is AMAZING. Eddie Redmayne guys. wow. he totally deserves that oscar). Then we spend the next several hours laying on the floor, on the beds, on the chairs, three of us on our phones, one of us falling asleep, talking about life. Then around 2, everyone stumbles back to their respective bedrooms, Sara and I catch our second wind and stay up talking for another hour, then she goes to bed and I watch an episode or two of How I Met Your Mother because I'm still not tired (my sleep schedule is all sorts of messed up y'all), and then the next morning we all sleep in until lunchtime, as one does when it's a Saturday and you're in college and your parents aren't there to tell you to get up and do something with your life.<br />
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Back to the mental health day. So today was pi day and at 9:26:53 it was going to be a really long version of pi that wasn't going to happen again for another hundred years. So naturally, to celebrate this special pi day, we headed back to Zeek's pie shake parlour, a place we found yesterday. We all ended up with the chocolate cream oreo pie shake, and that was definitely a good life decision. Then Sara and I ran to the creamery to grab garlic bread and forks and corn and we made pasta with the leftover noodles from my birthday. There's a big kitchen table in the basement now, which is pretty rad, so we all sat around the table and had a meal like real normal people. It was nice. We're like a little college family. Granted, our normal families would never let us have our laptops at the table, and normal family dinners don't consist of singing along to disney songs on youtube, but Mulan and Meg and Rapunzel spiced up the party, and our voices are definitely angelic.<br />
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Anyways, Monica kept worrying about how she hadn't gotten any work done, so we all admitted that we hadn't either, and then we decided that today would be a mental health day. Also, we don't get a spring break (because byu is lame), so today was our spring break. Pie shakes and pasta and walking around town last night. I can dig it.<br />
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To top it all off, my heart skipped a beat walking down Center Street last night as I realized it's like a little piece of New York. I was positively giddy. I mean, we found a restaurant totally dedicated to french fries. If you want a full meal, they'll give it to you on french fries. Right? Provo is darn cool guys. Pretty darn cool. </div>
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Sincerely, mad<br />
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ps 200th blog post guys. what?</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02066049373739130729noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1586568225420883433.post-45809907850228905282015-03-12T15:32:00.000-06:002015-03-12T15:34:22.154-06:00missing home<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8qiv-qCHKz91e9AEPgrsJt6eMAXQRkS0CFn_C-LR3FGEgGBaRJlJp6MzaKo_mNbapwmaBvy8_lzYuXEYrqr6brOsUbaPQSHZ_HjDtmGFRQk6Y-9R491b-ST1wLyJK7iiLOJ6gdi8vfJvu/s1600/IMG_0639.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8qiv-qCHKz91e9AEPgrsJt6eMAXQRkS0CFn_C-LR3FGEgGBaRJlJp6MzaKo_mNbapwmaBvy8_lzYuXEYrqr6brOsUbaPQSHZ_HjDtmGFRQk6Y-9R491b-ST1wLyJK7iiLOJ6gdi8vfJvu/s1600/IMG_0639.JPG" height="426" width="640" /></a><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Os_LY0Lg9Bo/VQIDnogQwyI/AAAAAAAATT4/ymbyyEYLlRc/s1600/IMG_0530.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Os_LY0Lg9Bo/VQIDnogQwyI/AAAAAAAATT4/ymbyyEYLlRc/s1600/IMG_0530.JPG" height="426" width="640" /></a><br />
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home: georgia. provo. my grandparents' house in utah. oxford, england.</div>
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This should as no surprise (because I think I've mentioned it before), but Provo is failing at winter. I was sweating in a sweater on Tuesday so yesterday I went sans tights, and today I wore sandals. My saltwaters. The shoes that I wore wandering around Oxford and that gave me that crazy tan that didn't go away until December. And I also wore my England tee that I got at the Gap in Oxford off of Cornmarket street. Also, I was in the international building on campus yesterday and started browsing the study abroad programs and they announced the new theme for London Winter 2016. So naturally, I recounted my pennies and went through all of the pics from this summer and now my heart is just aching. It probably doesn't help that my stomach could eat everything in sight right now and I just remembered Ben's cookies and Moo-Moo's milkshakes and pieminister's pies. Yum. Anyways, since I can't hope on a plane and fly across the pond anytime soon, these pics from the summer will have to do. These shots were some of my favorite as I flicked through all 1,422 of the pics I took.</div>
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Sincerely, mad</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02066049373739130729noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1586568225420883433.post-38696504963279336112015-03-11T22:14:00.001-06:002015-03-11T22:14:34.897-06:00making it til wednesday<div style="text-align: justify;">
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Wednesday, hump day, whatever you want to call it, but by Wednesday I'm ready to call it quits for the week. I have really long days on Monday and Wednesday, class from 9 to 4, but then Tuesday, Thursday, and Friday, I'm done by 11 because I only have one class. So basically I just have to survive until Wednesday at 4, then I can take a deep breath because I only have two more classes between me and the weekend. And Wednesday nights are turning into my mid-week break.</div>
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The crossfit box I go to started yoga classes every Wednesday and Saturday, and I figure flexibility is good. You know, connecting with your soul, achieving zen or whatever. I thought it would be easy and relaxing, and while you don't leave dripping in sweat or out of breath, yoga is dang hard guys. Geez louise. I saw all these teeny tiny girls and thought, oh, I've totally got this. I do crossfit, I can bend and twist and lift myself off the ground, right? Nope. But I have fun trying, you know? My favorite part is at the end, where you just lie on the ground in the dark to soothing music for like 5 minutes, and the instructor comes around with essential oils or something that smells really good, and I always get in my car and turn on some Jack Johnson and drive home so relaxed. It's the perfect way to destress after my crazy first half of the week. It's blissful. I come home from school and watch some Friends or How I Met Your Mother because I made it this far, then I go to yoga and I come home and have a smoothie and am just generally satisfied with life. Wednesday night, I like you. You can stay.</div>
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Sincerely, mad<br />
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PS can we just talk about how good mount timp looks? I kept seeing peeks of it between buildings today and let me just say, I'm swooning. Timp, you're lookin good. iPhone pics don't do you justice.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02066049373739130729noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1586568225420883433.post-50417292285899421942015-03-04T12:54:00.002-07:002015-03-04T12:54:17.422-07:00national pancake day<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Yesterday was national pancake day, so IHOP was giving out free pancakes. Naturally, being the college, free-food loving girls that we are, we headed over around 7 to find a penguin huddle spilling out the doors and a 45 minute wait to get a table. Since we were starving and Sara had a griddle that has sat unopened in our room since the beginning of the year, we called on plan b, hitting the creamery for bisquik and eggo waffles and then grabbing all of the toppings we already had in our rooms. We ended up with honey, peanut butter, syrup, strawberries, nutella, and butter. Hayley proved her master pancake making skills while Jessie played Friends in the background and we had a pancake party on the floor. It might even have been better than IHOP. It was definitely better than homework.</div>
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Sincerely, mad</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02066049373739130729noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1586568225420883433.post-31184441177948958392015-02-23T20:01:00.002-07:002015-02-23T20:01:43.732-07:00can i be french now please?<div style="text-align: justify;">
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Let me just start by saying that I put a lot of pictures of myself on this blog. I know. I'm sorry too.<br />
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I'm going to pretend to be a fashion blogger here (and that taking self timer pics outside doesn't make me extremely self conscious) and lead with this line- You know how you hear about how snobby the French are? Well, I've got to admit, I'm snobby towards the French. I've never wanted to go to Paris; England has always won for me. And while London fantasies and dreams of Oxford still flit through my head on the daily, France has all of a sudden become wonderfully appealing. I mean, stripes and black and peter pan collars and the Eiffel tower for dayyyyyys guys. I've found my style floating from trendy to Southern trendy to minimalist and now, French. I hear French dressing tips and they sound so smart! The latest I've heard is that if your skirt is above the knee, you wear flats, and if it's below the knee, you wear heels. It makes sense! I just find myself really drawn to the simplicity and effortlessness of French style. Black pants, striped shirt, messy hair. Simple. I can just really get behind the idea of a daily uniform. Neutrals, and if there must be color, make it mustard yellow or baby blue. Live in flats. You know the whole idea of a <a href="http://www.un-fancy.com/capsule-wardrobe-101/what-is-a-capsule-wardrobe-anyway/" target="_blank">capsule</a> wardrobe? I listed out my favorite clothes and what I wear on the reg, and I can do 37 items no problem. I'm really thinking about going through a closet purge.</div>
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In other news completely unrelated to this blog post, we signed the contract for our apartment on Saturday and I'm feeling pretty grown up here. Also, I've discovered I have a hidden love for yoga, which come to think of it, is another thing I've always made fun of. Huh, I guess I'm really a judge a book by it's cover type of person. Whoops. So you know, if I can stick with it, I'm totally going to look into being a yoga instructor. I mean it'll take a while cuz I'm really bad, but a girl can dream, right?<br />
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Also, since I discovered the Dove milk chocolate bars in the vending machines, my chocolate addiction has gotten out of control. That is all.</div>
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Sincerely, mad</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02066049373739130729noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1586568225420883433.post-77330514076192495042015-02-17T00:21:00.001-07:002015-02-22T13:46:26.109-07:00around here lately<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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^^^have stick, will selfie^^^</div>
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^^^fav shot of a fav human^^^</div>
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The blogging itch has returned! Hooray for you, invisible blog readers!</div>
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Provo has no longer decided what season it wants to be, which means no tights some days and all the layers other days. Half of me is chanting "snow snow snow!" at all times and the other half of me keeps eyeing striped dresses from target because those seem summery and summery is good.</div>
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We've discussed this before, but getting older has really turned me into a nature person. I want to go on all the hikes and spend all my time outdoors. So if Provo could decide to be spring and gas could stay under $2, we could have some serious adventures. Valentine's Day and our Bridal Veil Falls adventure was a little too fabulous, so give me all the giant rocks to climb. The girls and I have already begun discussion about our "spring break." BYU is lame and doesn't have one so we're going to do something fun and day trip-y around the time other people do spring break because the thought of going 8 more weeks without a break kind of makes us want to hibernate and eat all the chocolate.</div>
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On another note, here at the Y, we turn our assignments in on this online database called Learning Suite, and on Valentine's Day, the normally blue and white design had pink accents and floating hearts. There were no online decorations for Christmas or for Thanksgiving. I see where your priorities are BYU. I see.</div>
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<a href="http://www.raptitude.com/2015/01/self-esteem/" target="_blank">This</a> link. Serious life reanalysis. Do I like who I am when I binge watch friends? Eh. Do I like who I am when I go hiking on the weekends? Yeah buddy.</div>
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While we're at it, a few buzzfeed links that are just too good in order to fuel your procrastination for the day: <a href="http://www.buzzfeed.com/laraparker/53-thoughts-every-girl-has-while-shopping-at-target#.bsq71DryW" target="_blank">here</a>, <a href="http://www.buzzfeed.com/h2/fbdf/microsofteducation/life-lessons-you-can-only-learn-at-college#.yqn1JvQLB" target="_blank">here</a>, and <a href="http://www.buzzfeed.com/noracashell/15-ways-lizzie-mcguire-captures-your-twenties-angs-nkfz#.ayja679mV" target="_blank">here</a>. You're welcome.</div>
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And an update on the 52 weeks photography challenge- I'm already behind. Whoops.</div>
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Sincerely, mad</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02066049373739130729noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1586568225420883433.post-85469714982587376052015-02-15T22:43:00.000-07:002015-02-15T22:43:26.912-07:00an obligatory birthday essay<div style="text-align: justify;">
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I'm 19, and I've never been so happy.</div>
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Wow, this year. I don't know, I feel like 18 started out crazy good, hit a rough patch, lots and lots of good mingled with quite a bit of awfully hard, and it's going out on a quietly wonderful note. So I guess 18 was a pretty good year.</div>
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Highlights:</div>
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getting into byu / getting into summerfuel / grandpa getting baptized / exempting finals and having "i'm a senior i do what i want (aka sleep and eat lunch with mom and my bestie)" days / graduating / the last trip to the lake house / OXFORD / late summer honors / BYU / living close to dad's family / discovering swig and the heaven on earth that is a dirty dr pepper / first job (scooping ice cream) / living a block from costa vida / dad visiting me at byu / the rollins coming to byu / haircut / first haunted house / finding my future roommates and best friends / thanksgiving / getting my first writing job / return of the bangs / going home for the holidays / bringing my car out to school / friends coming to netflix / first galentine's day</div>
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Ongoing highlights (things that weren't one time events but that really made this year special)</div>
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sunday night mac and cheese parties / writing 150 / swig runs / cousin lunch dates / movie nights and 3 am chats with the girls / english 251 / waiting for divine comedy shows / the mountains / crossfit / creamery runs</div>
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I was going to make a list of low points but after typing out the highlight reel, talking about loneliness and change just sounds depressing, especially since they're on vacation for the moment. That highlight reel also made me realize how good 18 was. I've been so caught up on how excited I am for 19 that it didn't click that the reason I'm in such a good place right now is because 18 was pretty nice to me. I've been thinking about all the hard stuff that I'm glad is in the past, so much so that I wasn't appreciating the happy. Gosh darn it, counting your blessings really is an effective way of making you happy and sentimental!<br />
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I was feeling sappy last night and I read last years birthday post. The last paragraph really hit me. This is what I wanted for 18 as I said goodbye to 17: "<span style="line-height: 18px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">18 is going to be my year. The first full year in a while where I am completely, utterly, unashamedly myself... I'm going to be the type of person I dream of becoming. I'm going to England this summer. I'm going to college this fall. I am going to put my creative soul to use. I have the same number of arms and legs and eyes as any other girl out there. Why should I sit by and say, "one day..." when other girls are out there today doing just the things I say I'll do one day? Gosh darn it Mal the time is now! Yolo and what not... I will not be afraid or embarrassed or ashamed. I have learned that nothing worthwhile comes from pretending to be someone you're not. True happiness comes from being 100 percent yourself regardless of what other people say."</span></span><br />
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<span style="text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">Guys, I did it. I pulled that off. I was for sure lightyears away from perfect, but I did 75 percent of the things I promised myself I'd do. And because of that, I can sincerely say that I am starting out 19 in one of the happiest states of mind I've ever been in. My goal was to be myself, to love myself, and to love other people the way I wanted to be loved. Guys, I'm surrounded by some of the best people because I kept that promise to myself. And man, did </span></span></span>18 showed me what it feels like to feel loved. Not romantically, "I'm hopeless and awkward and desperate for love!" to quote Chandler Bing (aka my spirit animal), but I just feel so overwhelmed by the people I have in my life. The friends I've made in Provo, my family back in Georgia, my fam here in Utah, my best friend back home, the crossfit communities- there have just been so many times in the past few weeks where I've come to realize how wonderful people are. So many selfless acts of service and love, so many laughs and late night chats and voicemails and jokes and group texts and sweet notes that have reminded me that this world isn't just full of haters. There are lovers. So, so many lovers with the best souls and the sweetest spirits. I just want to give everyone in my life right now a big bear hug and a dirty because sharing is caring. People are good, guys. People are just so good.</div>
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So, moving forward. 19. That sounds so much more grown up than 18, doesn't it? Only one more year in my teens, but 19 sounds too old to be a teenager. Too young for adulthood, too old for teenagedom. A perfect in between. So perfectly me. I'm not fully extroverted, but I'm not completely introverted. I'm independent and stubborn, but I still ask questions about how to work the washer and dryer. I love dresses but could live in the running shorts I wear to crossfit. I exist in a state of in between. 19 is perfect.</div>
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19 is going to be good. I can feel it in my bones. There's deep tinglys in my toes. Moving into an apartment, working, exploring. A full year as a college student. I'm excited. Bring on more independence in very tiny doses with ddps to help me cope with it! Here's to a year of enjoying the little in betweens.</div>
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Sincerely, mad</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02066049373739130729noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1586568225420883433.post-20309759099807652392015-02-12T13:31:00.001-07:002015-02-12T13:33:44.083-07:00life in 52 weeks // week 1: good morning, good night<div style="text-align: justify;">
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It should come as no surprise, especially after my photo a day challenge last year, that I signed up for another year long photography challenge. <a href="http://shop.abeautifulmess.com/" target="_blank">A Beautiful Mess</a> offers lots of online classes, and I've looked at them before, but I've never signed up because there was a lot of commitment or I didn't have my camera yet or I didn't want to spend that much money on something I couldn't guarantee I could commit to. But then... in comes the Capture Real Life in 52 Weeks class! A move at your own pace, non-technical, not to expensive class that will help me fall back in love with snapping excessive amounts of photos of rather mundane and ordinary things. If that doesn't have my name written all over it then I don't know what does.</div>
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So, here we are, me committing to another year of photographing my life. But this time, it's not necessarily every day. It's every week. And there is a specific challenge with examples and tips and tricks that I can see and read and try out! Hooray! Which I guess is me also committing to blogging at least once a week. Can she do it? We'll see. Week one's challenge was "Good Morning, Good Night." Here's a snippet of my morning and nightly rituals. Well, I guess just my bedtime routine if we're being real because I'm always running late in the morning. Basically excessive amounts of lotion and lots and lots of Friends before bed.<br />
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Sincerely, mad</div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-to6xtcsm4sQ/VMfvIcm1f5I/AAAAAAAASxY/9smOFs9l40A/s1600/IMG_6201.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-to6xtcsm4sQ/VMfvIcm1f5I/AAAAAAAASxY/9smOFs9l40A/s1600/IMG_6201.JPG" height="426" width="640" /></a><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gHjT9JW_QI0/VMfvFnTk51I/AAAAAAAASw8/K0X7FIsMs_k/s1600/IMG_6197.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gHjT9JW_QI0/VMfvFnTk51I/AAAAAAAASw8/K0X7FIsMs_k/s1600/IMG_6197.JPG" height="426" width="640" /></a><br />
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I think it's a pretty healthy thing to be friends with yourself. You know, a solid dose of self love.</div>
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I make faces in the mirror and run awkwardly to the car and have conversations with myself on a daily basis. After uncomfortable situations that I did not handle well I make fun of myself and send funny texts about it to my mom and best friend. I have a list of perfect instagram captions that I save on my phone just in case I end up posting all my favorite random pictures. I snapchat selfie like no other and get milkshakes at midnight from In-N-Out because gosh darn it I deserve it and it's tough reading literary theory for 3 hours straight. I have shower dance parties to Taylor Swift and One Direction but freeze every time I hear someone else walk into the bathroom because #dormlife. You don't even want to know how many times I've almost been caught in the hallway trying to take a selfie for Instagram that I never end up posting. I read through my twitter feed and crack up over my old tweets. I am an impulse buyer because I can talk myself into pretty much any purchase. I can rationalize Costa Vida or dirty dr peppers at any time of the day or night. When my outfit is on point, I walk around giving myself a pep talk, and when I make someone else laugh, I mentally pat myself on the back. Sometimes, suppressing laughter as I walk around campus is such a struggle because I can literally crack myself up. I actually have a folder of selfies on my computer for low self esteem days. I treat myself like a 5 year old who gets rewarded with food and tv after she does something responsible or productive. I may be biased, but I think it's pretty fun to be friends with myself.</div>
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I guess the whole point of this is just to say, keep yourself amused. You're probably a lot funnier than you think you are.</div>
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Sincerely, mad</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02066049373739130729noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1586568225420883433.post-17170259665657526352015-01-18T21:31:00.003-07:002015-01-18T21:31:56.913-07:00no comment<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Well, last week was one for the books. This time last week, I had absolutely no idea that so much would change. Honestly, I'm ready to curl up in a ball and hibernate for a little bit. But through it all, I've watched so many people stand up and help me out in ways that probably seemed insignificant to them but meant absolutely the world to me. Everything from texts to cookies to helping me move and letting me be their roommate- I am convinced these people are angels. Here's to a good rest of 2015. It can only go up from here, right?</div>
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And last week? Don't let the door hit ya on your way out.</div>
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Sincerely, mad</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02066049373739130729noreply@blogger.com4