you go girl.

In my heart, I am a lot of things. I am a ballerina. I'm a baby whisperer and a professional nail painter. I am an inspiring artist and a really really cool friend. I am a motivational writer. I'm a comedian and an interpretive dancer. 

So basically, I am a dreamer. 

I'll probably never take a ballet class, and my creation of art is minimal these days. But one dream that I cannot seem to kick is that of becoming a nurse. 

I once held my frail little Papa's hand as his spirit left this earth. I watched him hug each of his nurses that had helped him do what he could not do on his own. He told them how much he loved them. And more than ever, I wanted to be a nurse.

 As a sixteen year old, I watched a stranger have her baby. Wide-eyed, knees locked, sweaty palms and in SHOCK. I wandered out of that hospital room like a zombie and cried over the messy miracle I had just witnessed. Through the tears, I told myself that's what I was going to be. 

My freshman year of college I lost my cool after having blood drawn for a lab. Picture this: my entire body starts sweating like no other. I can't hear anything. at. all. I can't even stand. My young and fairly attractive teacher had to lay me down ON top of the desks, get me an ice pack for my throbbing head, buy me a candy bar and shove my backpack under me as a pillow. hahahaha. Yikes. I never wanted to show my pathetic face there again, but I still wanted to be a nurse. 

I took tests on labeled, dead bodies with my nose plugged and somehow walked out of there saying, I totally want to be a nurse! 

I haven't taken Biology in six whole years and my professor likes to say, "I won't even cover this, everyone already knows it." I don't know it and for some odd reason I still think I have what it takes to be a nurse. 

Over the summer, I became a night shift CNA and had the adventure of a life time. I was kissed square on the lips, had my bum grabbed and was asked how much money I require for the night. (apparently scrubs scream 'hooker'.)  I endured some of the nastiest situations and watched sweet friends pass away. 

Aaaaand...(I point to the crowd and they cheer, "YOU STILL WANT TO BE A NURSE!") 

Stress just...seriously stresses me out. You know?! I've never been one to dedicate my entire life to studying. I'd honestly rather be drinking hot chocolate with the cute boy I live with. My classmates cry over their 80 percents and I'm just chillin' with my 52. 

Don't get me wrong, it's so important to give it your all. WHICH I DO. But a bad test score doesn't change who I am as a person. It really doesn't even reflect my knowledge because I go to take the test and everything in my brain just sort of...floats out. I say I'm quitting about a thousand times a day. I'd rather be painting all the day long. 

But dreams are worth fighting for. Even the far far, sooooo out of reach ones. 

As I was preparing to serve a mission my sweet Bishop told me this..."Who you are will be far more important than what you know." WOW. Can I get an amen? I've applied that to everything in my life since. Who do I want to be? Quite simply, I want to be like my Savior. My perfect example, my forever friend. 

When I think about who I want to be and who I am now, I get discouraged. I yearn to improve in every aspect of my life. Unfortunately, it's not an over night thing. I wish I could find something really great to do for someone else every day. I reeeeally wish that I could walk into a hospital today, slap a name tag on and be a nurse. Don't even get me started on how much I want a chubby little baby. 

I am constantly reminding myself of this..."In between goals is a thing called life that has to be lived and enjoyed."

I love where I am. I never imagined myself here and now I can't imagine myself anywhere else. Okay, that's a lie. 

I can totally imagine myself in Europe. 

To sum up all of this nonsense...soak up and enjoy everything in your life now. but don't forget to day dream about really big things. and please don't stop until you get to them. 

^^^

A Tragedy.

My poor little blog has been severely neglected. Time for some love!

Let me tell you a sad (REALLY sad) story about a weekend in September.

Early in the summer I decided to buy my new little husband and I some ROCKIES TICKETS. Yes, we were/are poor newlyweds buuuut...all you need is love and Rockies Tickets, right? RIGHT.

Our very first week of school flew by and it was game day. I was so anxious to be sitting at a baseball game while the sun set. Holding hands. Screaming for players I didn't even know. Being American. 

We were cruising along, rockin' out to "Can't feel my face" by the Weeknd. This terrible song is literally the only one that comes on the radio while we're in the car. Why can't he feel his face?! And why in the world did he spell 'weekend' like that? It makes no sense. Unfortunately, we know every word to it.

There we were, driving driving driving. And all of a sudden, we were no longer moving. ON THE INTERSTATE. That place where cars are going a million miles per hour. It just quit doing what a car is supposed to do. My baseball game dreams were slipping away. Oh, the tears flowed. While we sat awkwardly on the side of the road, I let my rage get the best of me and this went down in my head:

My super hero husband managed to start moving at 15 mph! Woohoo!! I checked the clock and we totally could have made it to the game, fashionably late. IT COULD BE DONE. We probably would not have made it home afterwards, but who cares?! I'm fine with living in Denver.

Instead, we crawled on over to a car fixing place because I would be going to that game. No doubt about it. The guy basically said, "I cannot help you. Just drive home." No. Car man. You do NOT understand. I paid 65, nonrefundable dollars on a baseball game that we were supposed to stuff ourselves with unhealthy treats at. We were going to make it on the big screen and awkwardly kiss in front of the world.

This wasn't the end. It couldn't be. I called my baseball loving Dad (sobbing) hoping he would tell me to power through and go to the game, no mater the risk!

He didn't.

I did not take disappointment well that day. I hardly ever do.

In an attempt to put an end to my melt down, Matt kindly took me to Chick-fil-a for a frosted lemonade.
side note: a frosted lemonade can heal a broken heart. it's that magical.

We pulled on up, and I was beginning to feel happiness once again. I was then told that their power was out and that they did not have any frosted lemonades.

really. REEEAAAALLY.
I didn't get to go to the game. And I didn't even get to enjoy my favorite frozen treat. I also lost a bunch of money. and so I cried, cried, cried all the way home.

THE END.

Since the "incident," we have purchased a cute little jeep. It has successfully taken us to Chick-fil-a several times. And for that, I adore it.

"We freak. In my jeep. Snoop doggy-dog on the stereooo. Oh, oh."

-California Gurls by Katy Perry