Thursday, September 29, 2011


I've been thinking about how being open with someone can go a long ways. I once had a conversation with my sister Sarah in which we were both agreeing that a trick to befriending someone is to open up to them. You decide how much you want to divulge and open up about; but the key is making it personal. It sends the message of "I have enough of an interest in being your friend that I am taking the step of confiding in you" and "I already trust to you to a degree, so I am going to tell you something personal." I'm not saying walk up to a stranger and yap in their face for an hour. I'm saying that this trick can work wonders when you are in the process of befriending someone.

With that said, I have decided that I want to be more open with people outside of my family. I can be a talkative Tiffany with family members, and a select few friends, but that's about it. To everyone else I am Audrey who is kinda tomboyish sometimes, and that's about it.

So I am going to tell you a secret. This is hard for me to do, but I think it will make me a better person. I have had an addiction for a while that almost nobody knows about. I don't like to talk about it because I feel exposed and ashamed. My addiction is

Pinterest. Did I scare any of you? Hahahahaha. Sorry (mom) if I gave you a heart attack. Oh, and when I say I have had this addiction for a while I mean 3 days, cause that's when I got a Pinterest account. I would hear about people (mostly Kat) talking about things they saw on Pinterest and how awesome Pinterest is. Then I started hearing about it more. So I looked it up. Within 10 minutes I was hooked. And you know what I decided? Pinterest is porn for women. Because it displays all things beautiful, creative, delicious, artistic, etc. However, I have a love hate relationship with Pinterest. I love it because I fantasize of acquiring or experiencing all of these wonderful things that I see on Pinterest. I hate it because oh yeah I don't have any money to buy those insanely cute clothes and oh yeah I am a broke, single undergrad, so owning my own home is waaaay hay hay hay down the road, let alone buying things to go in the home. And oh yeah I am a student so I don't have time to do creative things; all I do is read six psychology books and go to five psychology classes and work at a job that is at 7 a.m. every morning and that pays me as if I lived in the 1920s. So basically I hate looking at Pinterest knowing that I can't make it a reality. But you know what? Yes, I may be a tomboy and yes I may forget how to be girly sometimes, but I can assure you that when it comes to thing like home decor, just homes in general, clothes, holidays, cooking heavenly food, etc. I am ALL GIRL. Which is why Pinterest is the bomb. And it's clean. And there are millions of little tricks and do-it-yourself type things. Let me show you some gems.

(Her tattoo says "chin up")
Give Pinterest a whirl. It might suck you right in.

Saturday, September 17, 2011


Today I feel down. But I honestly don't have any good reasons to feel down. It has been a good day. Started it out by working out at the gym. Saw the dude that I went on a date with there pumpin some iron. He came over and talked to me as I was cycling away, dripping sweat. I'm sure I was looking real fly (not). Then I showered and then I drove up Provo Canyon for a ward activity. Kicked around a soccer ball, tried slack lining, hula hooped, and ate some pineapple cobbler. Came home, played some sand volleyball with some hot dudes and now I am writing this. In an hour I will leave for the BYU vs. U of U football game with some friends.

Good day, right? Yes. And I am thankful for it. But I woke up feeling down. Had a bad dream; some people that I love and care very deeply for were telling me in the dream that I am not worthy of love and they shunned me away. Left me feeling defeated.

Hopefully I'll snap out of it.

On a different note, I went to a track meet last night with some friends from the ward. BYU and other teams were racing. This dude Brian that I know is on the team and this meet determined whether he would be on the traveling team. So I get kinda crazy when I go to events where I get to cheer on someone that I care about, ESPECIALLY when it's a family member. My sister Ann is like that. I have a memory of her yelling "GO POOTSIE POO POO!!!" at one of my track meets. I loved it, and I love that I am like her. Fan club? Who needs one? Fan Audrey. So anyway, Brian placed 10th overall and qualified to be on the traveling team. It was awesome, and I enjoyed screaming his name and chasing him all around the 4-mile course, being his personal cheerleader.

I'm gonna be one of those crazy moms that you can always hear cheering for their kid in the bleachers. I'm also going to be one of those moms that will threaten a little fifth grader with his life for picking on my child.

I look forward to that aspect of parenting.

Wow. This blog post has no cohesion whatsoever.


Wednesday, September 7, 2011


I developed a syndrome, recently. Or maybe I've had it all along and just started noticing it. Actually, now that I think about it, I created a syndrome that I diagnose other people with. I call it S.F.S. Same Face Syndrome. In the last year or so, I have found it harder to remember names of people because so many people look the same to me. For example:

I'm working. I am delivering packages to an office. I walk in and the secretary says "Hey!" in a tone that suggests, Audrey; I know you and you should know who I am. So I say, " Hey!" back and ask how she's doing. Meanwhile I am racking my brain, trying to figure out who this person is. I think, "I've seen 57 people that look just like you and to me they are all the same person." But then, (my job as a mail girl saves the day) I hand her the electronic scanner for her to sign for the package. She signs, gives it back to me. Ah. I can make out her signature just enough to figure out who she is. Hannah Stone (not her real name). A girl in my ward. The ward that I have been in for a YEAR. Knew the name. But the face? What can I say, she has S.F.S.

Disclaimer: People who have S.F.S. are not necessarily homely, ugly, or unpleasant to look at. They just have common features.

Another example. My roommate used to talk about this dude all the time. We'll call him Ted. So one day I get home from work and Ted is in the kitchen with my roommate. "Hey Audrey, this is Ted. Ted--Audrey." Nice to meet you, blah blah blah. Cool. So I met Ted. Next day. I am in my room and I hear my roommate in the kitchen talking to her friend (another dude). I hear her call him Joe. So in the next couple of hours I am running errands, doing whatever, and I come back to the apartment. I see this dude, apparently named Joe, is still in the apartment. A little while later the dude leaves and I say to my roommate, "So, that guy's name is Joe? How do you know him?" She says, "No. That was Ted. The guy that I like. The one that you met yesterday." Gulp.

So, to clear up the confusion. There WAS a dude named Joe at my apartment in the morning. BUT, when I was gone, Joe left, and Ted came over a little later. I got home, and assumed that he was the same guy that my roommate had been talking to in the kitchen that morning. Because my poor little head was unable to tell that this was indeed Ted, who I had met yesterday. Because Ted has S.F.S. I have seen like three other dudes in my ward that I thought were Ted. Even one of the members of the bishopric.

So we've all been in situations (maybe?) where we see someone that we have met before, maybe even been around them multiple times, talk to them, and you can tell that they have no recollection of you or they say something like, "Well it was nice to meet you," even though you have already met them before.

What am I, chopped liver? Geez.

I hate that feeling. And I sort of dislike people like that. Because it makes me feel like they are too wrapped up in how awesome they think they are to remember me. Plus it hurts my pride.

Bottom line; I don't want to be perceived like that. Maybe I'll ask the Big Man Upstairs for some help in remembering faces, even though they all look the same to me. Mnemonic devices or something.

So does anyone else have this problem? Or am I just showing signs of Dementia or Alzheimer's?

Thursday, September 1, 2011

I'm..........................gonna call it night.

My thoughts a couple of weeks ago:

"This semester is gonna be good. New apartment. New ward. New dudes. New me? Yes! A new me! A social me! Naaaah. Yes! And I will be confident and talk to anybody and everybody and social will become my middle name! Alright, sweet. Let the new semester begin."

Here's the current score.

Audrey: 0 The new semester: 863

Last night we had a ward social titled "Homemade ice cream and homemade root beer extravaganza!" Beats me why they didn't just call it "Root beer float night." Anyway, the root beer was already made, but the ice cream wasn't. Whaaaaaa? You are telling me we have to make our own ice cream? How long does this take? Does this mean that I might actually have to talk to people as I make my ice cream? So I grab a baggie, put some milk, sugar, and vanilla in it and then put that baggie in a bigger baggie with ice and sea salt and start shaking. After I assemble my ice cream making kit, I look up and realize that there is a massive sea of people called my ward. GULP. I immediately scan the crowd to look for my security blanket: the Spokane boys. I find them. Phew. Then, after the ice cream FINALLY develops some viscosity, I bust that baggie open, poor some root beer in, and drink. I head over to the Spokane boys apartment and within 18 seconds realize that I will not be having fun with them tonight. Because they all sit down and open their textbooks. What? Who does homework during the first week of school? Apparently they do. So. I open their door and find that the sea of people is still gathered, chattin the night away. Right in front of my apartment. So, I hastily walk through the sea and into my apartment and, as the title of this post implies, call it a night.

Tonight. I find a flier on my door that says. "Luau at the pool! Wear Hawaiian stuff! We will be eating Hawaiian haystacks and playing limbo and some other games that I don't remember!" I think, "Sweet! Free food! I'm there." So. I get home from class. Luau has already started. I scan the sea of fellow Colonizers. Don't recognize anyone. So I bee line to the food, chow, and then people-watch by myself. And after about twenty minutes I think, "Not that I don't love beefcakes that are just waiting to take their shirts off and get in the pool and girls that are trying to look sexy in hula attire or anything, but (you know what's coming) I think I'm gonna call it a night. Which brings me here. Writing this blog post. Hello.

*Mom: be not distressed. I will make friends and practice flirting. Eventually.