One of the kids was throwing worms at me. He also tried putting them down my shirt. And I just know it means he loves me.
Thursday, June 28, 2012
How does she know?
I have this secret desire to be the favorite staff of the RISE summer program. Sometimes the kids will do different things that lead me to believe I've won their approval. For instance, wanting to ride in my car over someone else's, complimenting me, tickling me, or even sometimes sitting uncomfortably close to me with head resting on my shoulder. The other day, I earned the ultimate stamp of approval.
One of the kids was throwing worms at me. He also tried putting them down my shirt. And I just know it means he loves me.
One of the kids was throwing worms at me. He also tried putting them down my shirt. And I just know it means he loves me.
Letting Go
Every young woman promises herself two things :
1. She will not gain her "freshman fifteen". Or any weight at all, for that matter.
2. She will not let herself go.
The other day I brought my pair of pink, zebra-striped rubber flip flops to work. This is because I knew we would be trekking through a wet dark cave, and no one likes soggy shoes. These said flip flops were sitting on the table awaiting their turn to be worn. Then a conversation ensued:
"Whose flip flops are these?"
"Mine!"
"How did I know?"
"Probably because they're pink and girly."
"Yeah. . . Wait no, I've never seen you be girly."
And with this, I realized it. I have broken a promise to myself. I have let myself go. Everyday for work I am donned in basketball shorts, tshirt, and a saggy ponytail. I don't bother to get ready in between my morning workout and work. Maybe it is because I am lazy. Maybe it is because the heat is too hot for real clothes. Or maybe it is because all efforts to look nice are in vain since I almost always end my work day sporting some new stain and smelling like boy. I seriously sound like one of those moms, right? It is truly a pity that my closet is jammed with neglected clothes and jewelry. Oh well. Here's to not gaining weight!
1. She will not gain her "freshman fifteen". Or any weight at all, for that matter.
2. She will not let herself go.
The other day I brought my pair of pink, zebra-striped rubber flip flops to work. This is because I knew we would be trekking through a wet dark cave, and no one likes soggy shoes. These said flip flops were sitting on the table awaiting their turn to be worn. Then a conversation ensued:
"Whose flip flops are these?"
"Mine!"
"How did I know?"
"Probably because they're pink and girly."
"Yeah. . . Wait no, I've never seen you be girly."
And with this, I realized it. I have broken a promise to myself. I have let myself go. Everyday for work I am donned in basketball shorts, tshirt, and a saggy ponytail. I don't bother to get ready in between my morning workout and work. Maybe it is because I am lazy. Maybe it is because the heat is too hot for real clothes. Or maybe it is because all efforts to look nice are in vain since I almost always end my work day sporting some new stain and smelling like boy. I seriously sound like one of those moms, right? It is truly a pity that my closet is jammed with neglected clothes and jewelry. Oh well. Here's to not gaining weight!
Saturday, June 23, 2012
Fundamental Attribution Error
Definition of Fundamental Attribution Error : the tendency for observers, when analyzing another's behavior, to underestimate the impact of the situation and to overestimate the impact of personal disposition.
I believe it is possible to know something without understanding it. Yesterday I came to really understand something that I have known for quite sometime.
Let me set the scene . . . Friday at work. The group heads over to Kearns park for a free lunch. The park is packed. It is hot and windy. We sit down in the pavilion with our school cafeteria-esk hamburgers and chip bags. The wind is pick-pocketing anything not hammered to the table. One boy, in particular, has been moody all week. And he has this can of soda. Seemingly harmless, right? Wrong. Nobody really payed him any mind until he had shaken up the can and had his hand on the trigger. "Don't even think about it." But before there could be an intervention, everyone had been showered by the exploded diet cola. I mean everyone. Not just the group, not just those in close vicinity, but everyone in the entire pavilion. Thanks to the wind.
Another boy in the group was ready to throw fists. The mothers of the pavilion couldn't be less happy with him. The hoodlum refused to apologize. And I sat there, trying not to laugh, because we don't condone that sort of behavior.
So, what did I learn? I learned not to judge others. Those groaning, disapproving mothers, that may or may not have gotten the brunt of the explosion, really had no right to judge. They don't have a clue about this boy, or the things he has gone through, or the things he has to cope with. I do. So as they were openly grumbling, I began to feel rather protective of the boy and his reputation. I imagine the mothers probably thinking his act was due to some sort of personality flaw. I believe his behavior was simply trying to communicate something. I can't help but feel like Heavenly Father, as personally and perfectly as he knows all of his children, feels this sense of protection when judgements are made.
And so, with this funny little experience, I came to understand.
I believe it is possible to know something without understanding it. Yesterday I came to really understand something that I have known for quite sometime.
Let me set the scene . . . Friday at work. The group heads over to Kearns park for a free lunch. The park is packed. It is hot and windy. We sit down in the pavilion with our school cafeteria-esk hamburgers and chip bags. The wind is pick-pocketing anything not hammered to the table. One boy, in particular, has been moody all week. And he has this can of soda. Seemingly harmless, right? Wrong. Nobody really payed him any mind until he had shaken up the can and had his hand on the trigger. "Don't even think about it." But before there could be an intervention, everyone had been showered by the exploded diet cola. I mean everyone. Not just the group, not just those in close vicinity, but everyone in the entire pavilion. Thanks to the wind.
Another boy in the group was ready to throw fists. The mothers of the pavilion couldn't be less happy with him. The hoodlum refused to apologize. And I sat there, trying not to laugh, because we don't condone that sort of behavior.
So, what did I learn? I learned not to judge others. Those groaning, disapproving mothers, that may or may not have gotten the brunt of the explosion, really had no right to judge. They don't have a clue about this boy, or the things he has gone through, or the things he has to cope with. I do. So as they were openly grumbling, I began to feel rather protective of the boy and his reputation. I imagine the mothers probably thinking his act was due to some sort of personality flaw. I believe his behavior was simply trying to communicate something. I can't help but feel like Heavenly Father, as personally and perfectly as he knows all of his children, feels this sense of protection when judgements are made.
And so, with this funny little experience, I came to understand.
Saturday, June 16, 2012
The Summer Blues
Sometimes my family leaves for the weekend to go visit a brother and a nephew in Idaho who I desperately miss. Sometimes I have to stay home alone because I had committed to standing on a float, wearing a ridiculous outfit, and waving to and smiling at people I don't even know. However, I wasn't too upset about this because I really enjoy having the house to myself. (I know. I'm a terrible, awful person for admitting that). So up until now, I didn't complain about being left behind. Then I started to feel really lonely. How, you may ask, could I feel lonely when I have spent the most perfect weekend with my darling best friend? Well you see, there are many factors.
1. I am tired. It was my first week of real work at RISE. I had absolutely no idea what I was in for physically, mentally, and emotionally. Don't get me wrong, I love it. But working long days (several being twelve hours), either in the heat of the afternoon or the sweatshop of the un-airconditioned cleaners, took it out of me.
2. I feel ill. No need to ask why.
3. I am hungry. After eating ham and cheese hotpockets and brown sugar pop tarts for essentially every meal this week, I have had enough. Is real food too much to ask for? (On the bright side my freezer is stocked to the hilt with ice cream. And no one is here to tell me that I've had more than my fair share).
4. Sometimes one person, the person whose attention or company you would like most, forgets about you. And that is the worst of all.
And then this bad combination of tired-sicky-hungry-needy Aubrey is sent a picture by her sister that makes her weep. Because I realize my nephew is growing up without me and I may have missed my one chance to see him this summer.
Sometimes, when I am feeling lonely, a good, inspired friend leaves a surprise on my doorstep.
Sometimes the surprise is a hand-me-down shirt of hers that I always really admired. So I will wear it tonight. And the sun is a little brighter, the sky a little bluer, and the world a little nicer.
1. I am tired. It was my first week of real work at RISE. I had absolutely no idea what I was in for physically, mentally, and emotionally. Don't get me wrong, I love it. But working long days (several being twelve hours), either in the heat of the afternoon or the sweatshop of the un-airconditioned cleaners, took it out of me.
2. I feel ill. No need to ask why.
3. I am hungry. After eating ham and cheese hotpockets and brown sugar pop tarts for essentially every meal this week, I have had enough. Is real food too much to ask for? (On the bright side my freezer is stocked to the hilt with ice cream. And no one is here to tell me that I've had more than my fair share).
4. Sometimes one person, the person whose attention or company you would like most, forgets about you. And that is the worst of all.
And then this bad combination of tired-sicky-hungry-needy Aubrey is sent a picture by her sister that makes her weep. Because I realize my nephew is growing up without me and I may have missed my one chance to see him this summer.
Sometimes, when I am feeling lonely, a good, inspired friend leaves a surprise on my doorstep.
Sometimes the surprise is a hand-me-down shirt of hers that I always really admired. So I will wear it tonight. And the sun is a little brighter, the sky a little bluer, and the world a little nicer.
Tuesday, June 12, 2012
Foodie
Chili is pretty good, some recipes are better than others. I have grown to love cheese in all of its forms--cheese sticks, cheese and crackers, or night cheese. If potatoes counted as vegetables I would have no problem reaching my daily allotted servings. And who doesn't love potato products, more particularly french fries? Put these three things together, and Voila! Chili Cheese Fries. Which I tried for the first time recently. However unappetizing it looks is quite deceiving. So I must thank Hires for providing this messily delicious culinary experience.
Boundin'
Sometimes I like to pretend that I am a country girl. The canal near my house is backed by several farmish properties. My most recent obsession is visiting the horses on these properties because, for just a little while, it helps me feel like I don't live in the city. As a side note, if I had horses of my own, they would be lovely Palominos named Presto and Pinto. Any how, my country-life fantasies have become even more of a reality. Today I helped shear a sheep! Okay, so that was our intent. Until the clippers didn't work. So I just gave the sheep a bath. But that was good enough for me.
The whole time I couldn't help but think of this Pixar Short Film. Below is the link. Enjoy.
http://www.metatube.com/en/videos/38424/Boundin-Pixar-HD-Short-Film-Walt-Disney/
The whole time I couldn't help but think of this Pixar Short Film. Below is the link. Enjoy.
http://www.metatube.com/en/videos/38424/Boundin-Pixar-HD-Short-Film-Walt-Disney/
Monday, June 11, 2012
Shots
I have a confession to make. I still cry when I have to get a shot. Something about watching the nurse load a needle that will soon be stuck in my arm brings on the water works. On the plus side, health care has the best bandaids.
Thursday, June 7, 2012
Factory 4 U
i may or may not have risked my life in order to purchase this rad new tshirt. if you happen to see me proudly wearing it, compliments are welcome.
Night Time, Quiet Time
Statistics show that the average person will have slept for over 100,000 hours by the end of their lifetime. By the end of my life, I predict I will be the anomaly to this statistic with a considerably larger sleep quantity. I could be in the presence of my most favorite company, adventuring the most thrilling roller coaster around, or opening presents on Christmas Day and all I can think about is how nice it would be to take a nap.
This little obsession of mine truly came into effect during high school. I would sleep into the morning as long as I possibly could without being late. Every minute counts! Now, I do not live in a household where my mother packs a lunch. Eating is up to you. So every morning before school when I ought to have been making/eating breakfast and packing a lunch for myself, I was in my bed. Sleep easily out weighs food. I also became quite gifted at resting on the uncomfortable classroom desks. During one particular parent teacher conference Sophomore year, my English teacher remarked in a concerned voice, "I have noticed that you have a difficult time staying awake during class. Is there something I can do for you?" How embarrassing. Little did he know that it wasn't personal. Sometimes I just really couldn't help it. I thought the solution to my problem would be not laying my head down. This was until I discovered that I can sleep sitting up. Which leads me to my next point. I can sleep anywhere.
No, this photo was was not staged. Waiting for departure can be quite exhausting. So I just made myself comfortable on the airport chairs.
During the Cross Country season, I became the infamous traveling sleeper. I would come home from practice and fall asleep to PBS on the love seat with my long legs dangling over the edge. At some point, someone would tell me to move. So I would make the pilgrimage up the stairs and straight into my mom's cozy bed. When it was time for her to go to bed, I would simply move to my own. I get that from my dad--taking a pre-bed nap.
Upon my sister's somewhat recent move home, her mattress was utterly destroyed. This meant she would get a new one. And since my mattress had become increasingly older and less comfortable, I had a hard time pretending to be anything but envious. I was quite surprised when my mother brought home two new mattresses. (This is one of the many reasons why I love her.) My new mattress was a dream. For the next month, my best friend and I spent every Friday night laying in my bed. Lame, you say? No way. My bed is now the coolest hangout around. I have photo evidence.
However, amidst my passion for sleep, there have been many nights where I was lacking in the sleep department. On that note, here are my final words on the subject.
This little obsession of mine truly came into effect during high school. I would sleep into the morning as long as I possibly could without being late. Every minute counts! Now, I do not live in a household where my mother packs a lunch. Eating is up to you. So every morning before school when I ought to have been making/eating breakfast and packing a lunch for myself, I was in my bed. Sleep easily out weighs food. I also became quite gifted at resting on the uncomfortable classroom desks. During one particular parent teacher conference Sophomore year, my English teacher remarked in a concerned voice, "I have noticed that you have a difficult time staying awake during class. Is there something I can do for you?" How embarrassing. Little did he know that it wasn't personal. Sometimes I just really couldn't help it. I thought the solution to my problem would be not laying my head down. This was until I discovered that I can sleep sitting up. Which leads me to my next point. I can sleep anywhere.
No, this photo was was not staged. Waiting for departure can be quite exhausting. So I just made myself comfortable on the airport chairs.
During the Cross Country season, I became the infamous traveling sleeper. I would come home from practice and fall asleep to PBS on the love seat with my long legs dangling over the edge. At some point, someone would tell me to move. So I would make the pilgrimage up the stairs and straight into my mom's cozy bed. When it was time for her to go to bed, I would simply move to my own. I get that from my dad--taking a pre-bed nap.
Upon my sister's somewhat recent move home, her mattress was utterly destroyed. This meant she would get a new one. And since my mattress had become increasingly older and less comfortable, I had a hard time pretending to be anything but envious. I was quite surprised when my mother brought home two new mattresses. (This is one of the many reasons why I love her.) My new mattress was a dream. For the next month, my best friend and I spent every Friday night laying in my bed. Lame, you say? No way. My bed is now the coolest hangout around. I have photo evidence.
However, amidst my passion for sleep, there have been many nights where I was lacking in the sleep department. On that note, here are my final words on the subject.
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