Depression.

This time of year always makes me depressed.
I get spring fever like crazy and want to be outside in the sunshine. Except, there isn't any. I was telling Aaron the other day that I think I have a Vitamin D deficiency due to lack of sun exposure. He said "Does it make you ache?" I said, "No, it makes me depressed."
He responded "Oh, no, you're depressed because your life sucks."
HA. Funny bastard.
He went on to Google 'Vitamin D deficiencies', letting me know that I may get Rickets and skeletal deformities. Excellent.

A week has gone by, the sun has been out, I was feeling a little better about things, and then, it snowed.
Mother bitch.
I try to keep my head up and remember that in a few long, dreary, cold absolutely horrendous months, it will be warm again. My flowers will be budding, I can sit outside and putter in my yard. I can let my pasty limbs soak up that precious Vitamin D. If they aren't deformed by then.

It's just hard.
So.
I did something that hundreds of depressed people do every day.

I cut myself.


I've done it before.

It usually makes me feel better.

This time was no exception.

I'm not proud of it.




But damnit, I hate paying other people to do it ;)

   

Linkin' Stinkin'

Elementary School was cool. Or maybe I was cool in Elementary School?  Maybe that's it.
Elementary School is a magical place. A place where people can be friends regardless of race, religion, economic and social status and bad mom haircuts.
Remember back when none of that mattered? Before you learned how to judge people?  When the most important part of your day was lunch and recess and getting (name removed to protect the innocent) to notice you? And "notice" may have meant pushing you down in the "big toy" gravel or throwing mud at you.
Yeah. Those were the days.

I dare say I was rad.  My mom curled my bangs half up and half down. Sometimes I even had a side ponytail.
I wore obnoxious florescent colors and those shirt things that gathered one side.
I had giant glasses that tinted in the sun.
I had a Lisa Frank pencil case in mint condition.
My mom dropped me off in the morning with my bike so I could ride it home downhill after school.
I chased a girl into a brick wall during recess and knocked her teeth out.

There is no other place in the world besides elementary school where someone could have all those things going for them and still think they were a badass. Besides that last one, of course. That's badass in real grownup life, y'all.

Anyway, what brings about this sudden nostalgicism, is that my old elementary school was torn down last week. Both my parents and my Grandpa went there as well. It was the most giant, badass mother school around.

I went to take some pictures of the destruction, and didn't think I would, but I felt a little sad. I still have friends that I made all those years ago in that building. I still see teachers that I had and either smile, or cringe. A lot of things you learn that young are things you carry throughout your whole life, and that kids, is a damn long time.





During the demolition process, my parents got the idea to bribe a construction working into giving them one of THESE

 

They actually ended up with three of them  :)    What they plan on doing with them is undecided, but it's pretty cool that they have giant pieces (literally) of Brigham City history, and a great way to remember good old Linkin' Stinkin'.

Homemade Christmas (read: Poor)

I made several Christmas presents this year. Now that they've all been disbursed, I can brag about how super cool and talented I am.

JElsbury.
She has a giant red flower painting in her living room, so I thought these would go in there really well.

Erica, Becky, James.
I got the idea for these here from Jessica, who is a VERY talented seamstress. Take a minute to look at all the fabulous bags she makes!  She's seriously a genius.  I thought these were a fun and funky way to make art personal.

Girls.
I got the idea for these while shopping for one for myself. It always seems like when you're on vacation, you do your hair last and then you're left with a hot flat iron that needs to be packed.  Solution: Nifty flat iron pouches that have heat resistant material inside and insulated batting.  I looked at several online before I decided, "I can make that". So I did.

I put big black buttons on them with magnetic closures, but forgot to take a finished picture.



James.
This was THE knitting undertaking of the century. I'm pretty pleased with how it turned out, even though it's big enough to hide a body in.

*Disclaimer: All homemade gifts include free cat hair.

Where I work :/

Yoga

After yesterday's.... incident.... I decided to take dear Becky's advice and look into yoga. 
I've always wanted to be the kind of person that did yoga and drank tea and busted out super cool moves for party tricks. Why I've never actually put work into that, I don't know. Maybe because I tried the tea thing first, and it's gross?
Anyway. I dusted off my yoga book last night and went to work.
I (think) I did several poses (fairly) successfully.
The hardest part was the breathing.  I think that might be because I'm fat though. Just a guess.
After struggling through half the book, I felt pretty good.  I felt like maybe this was something that I could practice and get better at. I even did it again this morning.
And then,  I started googling yoga. Reading about different types, trying to cram all their names in my little tiny overloaded brain. I think I ended up deleting some South Park references in order to make them all fit.

I came across this video in my research.
Mind = Blown.

Start watching at 2:20

I can't decide if I'm more or less interested in yoga now......

New Years Resolution Addendum.

Once upon a time, I was having a really super fabulous day. And then something happened that totally pissed me off, made me cringe and want to beat the mother lovin' tar out of someone. You know, the hot rage you get when you get warm inside and tense up and don't know whether to punch something or curse repeatedly or cry in the fetal position or get a mouth guard because you think you might shatter all your own teeth from gritting them too hard?

Addendum to the last post.
New Year's Resolution: CONTROL MY CHI.

Yeah, not so much my flat iron, but my "life force". The energy flowing through my body.  How can I be such a proponent of peace on earth when I can't even dictate peace in my own damn body?

There's just a handful of things that seem to push the "GO FIGHT WIN" button.
It super sucks when there are people that only know you from seeing that button be pushed, and not the other 97% of the time.

I think I'd compare myself to those marshmallow filled chocolate Santas. Someone who's typically jolly, yet, you totally don't want to piss them off because they'll put you on the naughty list. Hard crusty intimidating shell, gooey vulnerable marshmallow guts that, in reality, only did one thing on that hot ragey list. Cried.

Dear 2011

It appears as though you've arrived right on schedule, to find me the same neurotic fatass I was in 2010. Crazy.
No, I know, it's really not that crazy.  I didn't really do anything in 2010 to change anything although I vowed over and over that I would.  I went through ADD spasms of pretending I was going to be skinny one day, they just never really stuck. 

Remember in March, when I was riding my exercise bike like a million miles a day and then Jesus made me go to Las Vegas twice where I ate and drank a lot and ruined any progress I might have made? Or how about October when I uploaded a Nike fit app on my iPhone and had religiously done my workouts for THREE WHOLE DAYS and then Jesus made me sick for an entire month?  Or how about just recently, when Jesus had a birthday party and told me that all he wanted from me was to eat three cheese balls?

Maybe I should be writing this letter to Jesus.

2011, I didn't promise you anything this year. I've been reading all week the magical and glorious things people plan on doing to themselves during your reign. And good for them.  I guess all I can hope for is that you are as good to me as 2010 was. (Except for that entire month I was sick. Not cool, 2010.) (And the part about me still being a fatass.) (Oh, and maybe you could stop making my neighbors all move or die, I'm starting to get a complex.) (Unless it's the ones to the East. They could totally move.  Or die.)

I'd like to thank you in advance for my super awesome family and my hot boyfriend, and for providing me with badass friends that are mostly bad influences but totally mean well.  Mostly.  Also, my usually zit-free face and ability to drink beer before liquor and not be sicker.
Oh, and do you think I should cut bangs?
Is that one for Jesus?  I'm getting confused.

Sincerely,

ern