The first big snow.

Today when I woke up I looked out the window and my jaw literally dropped. It had snowed. A lot. But even though I complain a lot about snow, I actually really like it. As long as I don't have to drive long, treacherous distances or pull a handcart in it, snow and I get along just fine. The thing that I like the most about snow is how quiet it gets once it snows. I remember someone telling me once that snow soaks up sound and that's why it always gets so eerily peaceful. I guess could do some research and find out exactly why this is but I'd rather just go on not knowing and let snow keep its magic.
So considering the conditions outside, I thought it wise to break out my boots. My UGG boots. Now I know that there are definitely haters out there as far as UGG boots are concerned, but I personally like them a lot. My particular boots have buttons and extra sheep fuzz poking out on the side, which I personally find more attractive than the regular UGG boots. However, I will admit that sometimes they are less than attractive looking. But even though my brother likes to refer to them as my orc boots, I still love them. Putting your foot inside of an UGG boot is like surrounding your foot with fuzzy, squishy pillows. So I say they're worth it. Haters gonna hate.
After donning my boots, I trekked up to the bookstore to buy my sister a book for her birthday. I began perusing the young adult science fiction section, trying to find a book that sounded cool but was still within range of normalcy. As I stood there, dressed in a coat and the boots, reading the backs of covers, I suddenly heard voices approaching behind me. I didn't turn around, but deduced that it was a dad and a kid who was probably about four. They stopped behind me and the dad began whispering loudly to the boy.
"Look at her boots! Do you know what? I bet she's one of Santa's Helpers!"
What in the world.
The boy made a surprised sound and I could only imagine what his face must have looked like.
"Do you want to ask her? Go on, ask her if she's one of Santa's Helpers! With those boots, she's got to be."
This man is one donut short of a dozen, I thought. There is no way that these boots are so outrageous that their presence alone qualifies me as one of Santa's helpers.
He continued to pressure the child.
"You don't want to ask her? Why not? Just ask her!"
I had now stopped reading all together and was just staring at the ground blankly, listening in disbelief. I wanted to turn around and say "He doesn't want to ask me because he hasn't completely lost his marbles like you have!" But I restrained myself.
After a while longer he said, "Ok, well you don't have to."
He sounded disappointed.
They started walking again and I looked up as they passed me. The man looked sane enough. I guess some people just get a little too into the whole child rearing thing and start trying to make everything in life a magical experience. Even UGG boots. He must have been truly desperate.

And can I just say, in what world would I ever be an elf? I am almost six feet tall. That is no where near elf-range.

Jobs.

I don't want to have to do one thing for the rest of my life. Sometimes I feel like in college you have to choose which road you want to take and then there are no exits. You just keep driving on it until you die. Ha. I wish there was some way you could do a little of all of the things you love. Take detours, the scenic way and pit stops. How nice would that be?

Life = Risk

Idioms and other phrases.

I feel like a mean, cynical person for saying this, but I just don't understand why people think saying "thinking of you" is a source of any consolation to someone who is having a hard time. What are they supposed to say back to that? Oh gee, thanks so much for that tremendously helpful sacrifice of thinking about what a hard time I'm having! In fact, it probably helped you more than me because after all that thinking about how stinky my life is right now, you probably felt great about your life!
I appreciate the gesture, I really do. But I just feel like people can do more for each other than just "think" about one another. Don't get me wrong, it's a start. But it's not really any source of real comfort to the person unless some sort of action proceeds from all of this "thinking".
Speaking of words, I recently stumbled upon this little youtube gem. His name is Flula and he is hilarious.
These are some of my favorites.

Haha. Cracks me up every time! Never gets old.

Family Home Evening

Well, today is Monday and all you Mormons know what that means, time for good ol' Family Home Evening. (Or F.H.E., if you're feeling spiffy.) Anyway, before I left for work this morning, my mother reminded me to be home tonight for the yet-to-be-decided family evening activity. I anticipated it would be another rousing game of soccer in the park or perhaps we would gather around the table for a friendly board game.
I was sorely mistaken.
6:30 P.M. rolls around and I pull up outside the house in the classy 1995 Toyota Previa. Ever since my trusty Cam-Cam (Camry) was mutilated and hauled off to the junk yard, the Previa and I have been forced to spend a lot of time together.
As I rolled up the windows and gathered my stuff, I took note that our only remaining respectable vehicle (the Sequoia) was absent from the driveway.
I began to wonder.
Did they leave without me? Did my mom run off to the store to get some missing dinner ingredient? Was there an emergency? Is my father's leg dangling from his hip, connected by only a few remaining strips of skin as he screams in agony with the entire family surrounding him in the emergency room? Why didn't they tell me?
But upon the friendly greeting I received from my mother at the doorway, I concluded that every single one of my hypotheses were wrong. And ridiculous.
"Where's the car?" I asked.
"Sit down for dinner and I'll tell you the story."
Intriguing. So I sat.
"I got a call today from the neighbor."
"Yeah?"
"She was asking if Mitchell wanted to go with her daughter to the American Idol concert tonight."
"What?! Does he even know the daughter?"
"No, but I know the mom. She asked if he could drive, so I told him he could take the car."
"Oh.Why did the daughter want to go with Mitchell??"
But as I asked this question the answer was already clear in my mind. Good looking people have all the luck in life.
"Mitchell doesn't even like American Idol that much," I muttered as I squeezed a lemon slice over my salmon.
But this was only the beginning of the unsatisfactory news.
Dinner finished and I asked what the activity was going to be.
My sister shook her head in sorrow and shot me a pained expression. My mother got that smile on her face that she gets when she's about to tell me something I'm not going to like.
"We're going to the cemetery."
"Yay!!!" my youngest brother Lance yelled in delight.
It immediately became clear to me why we were going to the cemetery.
"Why does Lance want to go so bad?" I asked.
"To visit Grandma Gayle's grave," my mother replied innocently.
"No!" my sister broke in. "The real reason is he wants to go dig up dead people to see what they look like!"
Lance gave me a smile that was trying to look innocent, but failing. Miserably.
"What the heck? That's creepy Lance!"
"I just want to see!"
"We're not really going to dig, Lance," said my mother.
"Yes we aaaare!"
Oh dear.
So we all piled into the ancient Previa, since the respectable vehicle was out on the town having a grand time doing normal activities.
Then we pulled up to the cemetery.
"Yayyy! I can dig!"Lance said as he bounded out of the car.
What is wrong with this child?
"No, we're not going to dig Lance."
"Whhhyyy?"
"Because it's a federal offense, that's why."
Luckily, he eventually calmed down about the whole digging idea, but that didn't stop him from literally dancing on random stranger's graves, straddling tombstones, and pretending to be dead every five minutes. I'm pretty sure there is a small crowd of severely offended ghosts that followed us home and will begin enacting their revenge any moment now.
When we finally reached Grandma Gayle's grave, he squatted down and started petting the tombstone and speaking softly to it.
"Grandma Gayle, are you there? Grandma Gayle, come out," he said in his sweetest, most coaxing voice. "Come out Grandma Gayle, come out so we can see you."
"She's not going to come out, Lance."
He looked crestfallen at the tombstone.
I don't know where this obsession with death came from, but it's beginning to creep people out. Including me. It's a phase though. And just like the other 10,000 obsessions he has harbored, it too will pass. At least that's what I tell myself.
A while later, we all piled back into the dinosaur van and ended the evening with 59 cent ice cream cones from Arctic Circle, a true sign of a classy family.
Slaughter family dignity by parading around town in the Dino-mobile? Check.
Disgrace and dishonor the dead? Check.
Overall, I'd say it was a pretty successful family night.

I love these things.

 Enjoy.

http://whatshouldwecallme.tumblr.com/post/22812493547/when-my-mom-tried-to-hang-out-with-my-friends-i

http://whatshouldwecallme.tumblr.com/post/22503311447/when-i-try-to-study-for-my-last-final

http://whatshouldwecallme.tumblr.com/post/21859745741/when-im-waiting-for-food-to-be-delivered-and-i-hear

http://whatshouldwecallme.tumblr.com/post/22803182683/whenever-i-try-to-join-in-the-dance-party

http://whatshouldwecallme.tumblr.com/post/22089822799/when-my-skinny-friend-complains-about-being-fat

http://whatshouldwecallme.tumblr.com/post/21990205865/when-i-see-a-guy-wearing-cargo-shorts

http://whatshouldwecallme.tumblr.com/post/21932035023/when-the-salon-waxed-my-eyebrows-too-thin

http://whatshouldwecallme.tumblr.com/post/21781919541/when-my-friend-i-take-pictures-of-ourselves-on-my

http://whatshouldwecallme.tumblr.com/post/21773678526/when-you-finally-get-settled-into-bed

http://whatshouldwecallme.tumblr.com/post/21617085576/when-my-mom-tells-me-that-she-sent-me-a-care-package

http://whatshouldwecallme.tumblr.com/post/21576637072/laughing-while-lying-down

http://whatshouldwecallme.tumblr.com/post/18395784723/watching-a-scary-movie

Squirrels.

Do you ever get texts that despite the fact that they would seem completely ridiculous to a third party observer make perfect sense in the context of your life and are 100% imaginable? Well, I got one of those texts today from my Dad. Before you read it, you must understand three things:
1.) Daisy is the name of my cat.
2.) There is a field/hill/ditch thing behind our house. Daisy loves to hunt in this field.
3.) My youngest brother Lance has an irrational fear of small mammals, which includes, but is not limited to: squirrels, mice, rabbits, and guinea pigs.

So with this in mind, I received this text from my Dad:

"Daisy just brought a baby rabbit into the house. The bully. The full grown ones are too quick for her. Lance is freaking out about rabbits now."

Brought such a chuckle to my heart.
I think Lance's intense fear of these types of creatures first sprouted from our day trips to Sand Harbor at Lake Tahoe. Because of all the food the beach visitors bring, the squirrels that live in the trees there are seriously OBESE. Their stomachs literally drag in the sand as they scour its surface, searching for more food to maintain their abdominal mass. They are bold, too. They have long since forsaken their inhibitions regarding the human race and now go in full, shameless pursuit of their food.
We once watched my sister's friend's entire lunch get dragged away into the bushes by one of these obese creatures. We were so amazed at the speed the squirrel was traveling, given the size of the lunch and the belly it was dragging, that we just sat there in our beach chairs and watched it go.
So, understandably, my brother came to fear squirrels.
But I may also be partly to blame. On one of our trips there, I was feeling particularly bored and in a teasing mood so I decided to make Lance believe that I could speak to the squirrels. He was being cranky, so I hoped to use this technique to encourage good behavior.
I told him I could understand what the squirrels were saying and that they were planning to come and climb on his head and chase him on the beach if he continued to not listen to his mother. Then, every time a squirrel got close to us, I told him that I told that squirrel to come close. I even made little squeaky noises to speak to the squirrels and pretended to cock my ear, listening for their response. It was pretty convincing.
But it did not produce the good behavior I had hoped it would. In fact, it pretty much back fired. He ended up going into a borderline panic attack every time a squirrel even moved an inch in his direction and then would proceed to yell at me "Stop telling it to do that!"
 It got out of control. My mom eventually forced me to tell him the truth and after a few days of reiterating, "No, Cara does NOT in fact know how to talk to squirrels," he finally relaxed a little.
But nevertheless, the fear remains to this day.
Bless his heart.

Family Experiences.

My family has been in town for the past week and boy has it been wonderful. However, their timing is incredibly inconvenient given the fact that it is finals. But no matter, beggars can't be choosers. And I am officially a beggar for family time, given my summer plans.

       Anyway, one of my favorite things about being with my family is all of the ridiculous, humanly funny stuff that happens. These little jewels tend to crop up the most when the family is under stressful/unusual circumstances, which is actually pretty convenient when you think about it.

       First of all, last week my family got in a car accident. Some idiot girl dropped her drink and decided to  duck down and pick it up WHILE SHE WAS TURNING LEFT. Brilliant, I know. So naturally, she collided directly with my family's vehicle. Since she was completely ducked down under her dashboard, my mother's first thought before the collision was:

"There is nobody driving that car!!"

Haha. Yea. Sometimes stress and her brain don't get along.

Anyway, the car is in the shop now and they are driving a rental car. It's a Chevrolet Impala, nothing too exciting. But it's black and relatively new looking, so naturally my dad think it's cool and felt the need to inform my brother (who is home because of track) about it via text.

This was their conversation:
Dad's text:

"Riding a black impala. And it's raining."
Brother's response:

"What?"
Understandably, brother thought my dad was referring to an animal.

Sorry guys, we're out of cars. But we have this steed of an impala that you can rent. Just pile the family on and ride!

        Speaking of cars, the morning of my cousin's wedding, my aunt, sister, little brother and I didn't go to the sealing, so we were all given the assignment to leave Grandma's house at 9:30 and arrive at the temple in time to see cousin and hubbie come out after being sealed. Naturally, we didn't leave until 10. We were still on time though. Luckily, given the fact that we had to drive Grandma's fancy car. It's a white 2010 Prius with all of the gizmos and gadgets and way too advanced for our little brains.

        So aunty gets in the driver seat and realizes that the seat is raised to an unusual height. I consult the extraordinarily thick driver's handbook, and learn of magical things such as the "lane keeping assistant" which informs you when you are going outside of your lane, the "pre-collision system" which preps the car for collision when it deems an accident to be inevitable and the "adapted cruise control" which adjusts your speed in accordance to the speed of the cars around you. Wow. Basically, this car doesn't even need humans.

        The sad thing is we had no idea how to even use all of this stuff. When we started backing out of the garage and the "rearview camera" came on the console screen, my sister jumped out of the car, went to the back and danced around and we all watched her on the screen. That's about as far as we got in utilizing the technology.

        Eventually I found what I was looking for and informed aunty that there is in fact a "vertical height adjustment lever" located on her left side. She pulls lever. Wrong lever. She is now in a fully reclined position.

"Other lever," I add helpfully.

         When we finally got to the temple, my younger brother was about to pee his pants so I took him to the restroom as quick as I could. We went in to the women's so I could supervise him, just to be safe. Nobody else was in there and I breathed a sigh of relief. But then just after he washed his hands and we were leaving, a nice, matronly woman walked in. Before I could do anything, he shouted to her

"Hey! You're a man! Why are YOU in here?"

So awkward. I tried laughing it off. "He's just joking," I laughed to the woman. She smiled in a confused way and we just walked out as fast as possible.

           Then we waited in the temple waiting room. In my waiting, I observed a black man with a colorful beanie on his head and an alpaca blanket drooped around his shoulders and big boots. Not your typical temple waiting room attire. He had a crazed looking smile on his face. A nice, little elderly temple matron walked over to him in her white dress. She bent towards him slightly and gently asked,

"Are you here for a sealing?"

"Yeah!" he shouted enthusiastically. "Evvy time I'm here I'm here fo a sealin'!"

She looked doubtful and concerned.

"What's your party's name?"

His smile faded slightly.

"Uhhh...mmm... ehhh....I dunno."

A few minutes later I saw security escorting him out. He was still smiling.

If he has a reason to smile, we all do.

And apparently there's a rare degenerative neurological disease that's genetic on my father's side and a rogue mutant cancer gene on my mother's side that is so strange and rare that the Huntsman Cancer Institute is currently conducting a research case on it. Yep. I'm doomed. So enjoy me now world, while I'm whole and healthy because it's only going to go downhill from here.

Peace and blessings.

The end.

Sweet Home Nevada.

      Lately, I've been so homesick. It's a strange feeling because I'm not used to it at all. I usually never get homesick. It's been making me kind of cynical. I usually get so wrapped up in where I am and what I'm doing that I forget how much I miss being home. But these past few weeks, I haven't been able to forget. 

      I think the main reason I'm becoming afflicted with this sickness is because I've decided to stay in good ol' P-Town to work for the summer. I've never been away from home for this long before! I miss being in a real house with real dishes and real furniture and real beds and real food and people who have to love you no matter what. I miss waking up and playing the piano in my pajamas. I miss singing along at the top of my lungs and listening to the entire family take turns groaning loudly and begging me to stop. 

      I miss going grocery shopping at Costco with my mom. I miss reading books on the green couch with my cat snuggled up next to me. I miss getting the mail. I miss lounging around in my parents' room with my family after scripture study (during which I tend to be highly disruptive) and laughing until my stomach and cheeks hurt. I miss taking Lance to In-N-Out and Doughboy's Donuts. I miss being as weird as I want to with my sister. I miss begging Mitchell for just one bite of his cookie dough frozen yogurt that his ex-girlfriend's mom brought him in the middle of the night. I miss finding my dad napping, laying on his back, arms and legs splayed across the bed with a baby blanket draped over his stomach, barely even covering any of him. 

       I miss laying on my mom's pillow when she wants to go to bed, forcing her to talk to me for longer. I miss parading around the house in basketball shorts size XXL that I bought just because they were $10 and orange, and laughing as my mother made me swear to never wear them in public because they made me look like I weighed 300 pounds. I miss my sister pretending to be an orphan. I miss talking to Lance every morning when he came in to sit on my bed. I miss how excited he was when I took him to the tennis courts or swimming. I miss forcing the whole family to listen to my life stories. I miss cramming the whole family into the car and being ridiculous.

Waaaaa. I'm going to stop now, before I end up changing my mind and take off for home this very instant.

I miss home.  Sometimes becoming an adult is way too scary.

This is a video Lance and I made that I've been watching lately to soothe my troubled heart. I think it's hilarious, but I realize that it probably seems really strange/insane to the rest of the world. Enjoy. 

P.S. - You may want to turn your volume down before watching. It gets loud in some parts.

Well, this is embarrassing.

I generally have a very strong aversion to cheesy boy bands, Disney star pop music, Justin Bieber... you get the idea. But there is now one exception to this rule. I never thought I would ever say this in my life, but I am slightly obsessed with this video by One Direction, a British Boy band. Even though it pains me to admit, I quite enjoy it. I don't know why I like it so much. Probably because it exemplifies some long lost teenage dream I had of frolicking on the beach with cute, singing boys who drive Volkswagens. Yeah, that's probably why.

P.S- Harry is definitely my favorite. He makes his first premiere at :27 seconds, in case you're wondering.

Sleep and my brain.

Much to the dismay of the entire United States of America, this Saturday was Daylight Savings. The spring forward part. Yuck. And naturally, being the sensible and mature person that I am, I went to bed at 3 a.m. Saturday night. Needless to say, Sunday was a day of exhaustion. By the time I finished fulfilling all of my churchy duties and playing a ridiculous balloon game in the living room with my roommates (one of our crazier moments) I only had about an hour to rest my weary eyes before it was time to scamper off to Auntie's for din din.

So I attempted to nap for this precious hour. Was it restful and refreshing? Not really. Why? Because I kept waking up every ten minutes. Why? Well, I have my theories.

The following is the conversation that took place immediately prior to my "nap":

Me: "I'm going to take a nap."

Roommate #1: "Wait, what are you doing?"

Me: "Taking a nap."

Roommate #1: "Oh. Good luck!"

Good luck?

Roommate #2 (shouting from other room): "What's she going to do?"
Why is this so fascinating to everyone?

Roommate #1: "Take a nap."

Roommate #2: "Oh. Good luck!"

Very suspicious.

They denied all of my accusations that they were planning some sort of attack, but I guess my brain didn't believe them. It must have registered this whole interaction as a threat to my personal well being and consequently felt the need to wake me up every 5 seconds, just in case I was about to be attacked.

Thank you, brain.

Also, this morning when I woke up, I 100% felt like I was going to Disneyland. No matter what reality screamed back at me, my brain thought I was getting ready to go to Disneyland. It was the strangest feeling, but I couldn't shake it. Even with my roommate's constant reminders of "No Cara, you're going to class," I could not shake the feeling.  Somehow my brain had decided that I was going to Disneyland. Well sorry brain, I wish it were true, but it's not. So let's move on, shall we?

It's safe to say that my brain is officially struggling.

The pointlessness of this post is further evidence of this.

Ok. 

I'm stopping now.

Three songs that are currently at the top of Cara's charts.

1.) Fast Car by Tracy Chapman

2.) About Today by The National

3.) Sprawl II by Arcade Fire

Well I think I have procrastinated this paper long enough now. 

P.S- If you're bored, watch the Sprawl II music video. It's pretty cool in a weird way, if that makes any sense at all.

Animals warm my heart.

This made me smile today.
 http://www.buzzfeed.com/animals/happiest-animals-in-the-world

The tiresome vocabulary of a young Mormon.

There are some words that I hear far too often on BYU's campus and in Mormon culture in general. I don't know what it is about these words that is so irresistible to young Mormons, but there must be something. Don't get me wrong, I'm not immune to using these words either. However, I do strive to avoid them like the plague.

Below I have compiled a smattering of these overworked words. If you don't believe me that these words are far too common in the average Mormon's vocabulary, then just take some time to listen to those around you. If you listen, you will hear. Pretty soon, it will be all you can hear. You'll hear it as you walk to class, as your roommate is telling you a story, or even when a fellow ward member is bearing their testimony. 

And then you may wish that you had never even listened in the first place.

So here is the list. Read it and weep. 

1.) awesomeness, craziness, coolness, studliness, and other -ness words

By using one of these words, you are proving to me just how un-awesome you really are.

2.) interpretive dance

Yes, it was funny the first 20 times. Cool, creative, entertaining, and clean. But the glory days are over, folks. Time to find a new "hilariously ridiculous" activity to be funny with.

3) dance party

I don't understand the strange obsession with this term. Why must people always be wanting to throw dance parties? Now, if they were real dance parties, then that would be a different story. But most of the time they are random, lame little gatherings that happen at the most awkward times and places and usually consist of people jumping up and down, trying to act like they are really into the music.

4.) date

This poor word. It has been beaten to a pulp amongst the young adult Mormon population.

5.) amazing

To those who are addicted to the use of this word, here is a list of words that mean the same thing:

"astonishing, astounding, surprising, stunning, staggering, shocking, startling, stupefying,      breathtaking, awe-inspiring, sensational, remarkable, spectacular, stupendous, phenomenal,  extraordinary, incredible, unbelievable, etc."

Pick one. Any one. And let's switch it up every once in a while, shall we?

6.) epic

I hate this word. If I had a dollar for every time I heard it, I would not be here. I would be in the Caribbean, drinking a tropical smoothie, and tanning on my yacht.

7.) crazy

I'm sorry, but staying up until 3 a.m having a "dance party" and eating cookie dough is not crazy. And what's that you say? You think your roommates are crazy (in a good way of course)?
Join the rest of the BYU world. 

If you really want to see crazy, spend a week at Arizona State. Biggest party school in the nation.

That, my friends, is crazy.

8.) awesome

Better than "awesomeness," but irksome nonetheless.

9.) experience

Don't get me wrong, experiences are a great thing. But when every little thing you do becomes some type of "experience" it looses its "wow" factor. 

10.) marriage

I feel like every person in this entire school talks about this at least once a day. Discussing the topic of marriage can no longer be determined as "deep subject matter"—it has become a form of small talk.

11.) blessing

"Wow, what a blessing to have such crazy roommates who fill my life with such epic awesomeness. They are amazing!"

Sound familiar? 

12.) heck

Not going to lie, I'm a big fan of this one. But I wasn't until I came to BYU...

13.) basically

Usually used at the end of a long, detailed story about your roommate's latest romantic escapade.
Listen for it. It'll come.

14.) love

"I loved this day! I love you guys. I love it. I love that. I love him. I love this ward. I love life...."

Wow, you must be so spiritual.

15.) Jimmer

The ultimate word used anytime, anywhere, for anything.

16.) the mission

Not that missions are annoying, but why must people refer to it as "the mission"? It just sounds odd. Aren't there hundreds of different missions in the world? Then what exactly is "the mission"? 

Beats me.

18.) "You wish you were this  (add generic adjective here, ex: cool, awesome, gangsta, etc.)" 

No, actually I don't. I really don't. 

17.) zombies

They're not real, nor will they ever be. Get over it and move on. The real world is waiting.

The magic of the music.

Sometimes when I am having a particularly difficult time motivating myself to sit down and power through my homework, I tell myself "Hey self, if you go and work on your homework then you can listen to Disney music on your Pandora station." And bam, I'm motivated. Works every time. Not only does it work, but I end up wanting to do more homework (shocker, I know) just so I can listen to it longer. There's something very comforting about Disney music. It makes you feel like the world is a place full of happy endings and magical adventures.
And if you happen to need a study break, just stop and stare at the wall, continuing to listen to the Disney music, and imagine the movie scene that the song is from playing out in your mind. It's basically like instant TV.
Also, if you're ever feeling sluggish, listen closely to the lyrics. Surprisingly, the lyrics to most Disney music can be genuinely motivational. For example, this one:

Wow, it just makes you want to go out and conquer the world and then sing about it. It's also pretty spiritual, which I never realized in my childhood. But truly, it is. It could probably even be a primary song.
Disney music is where it's at people, I'm tellin' ya.

Campus cacophony.

As I was walking to class today I witnessed an all too frequent occurrence. Amidst the hustle and bustle of students rushing to class, there was a group of girls standing smack in the middle of all of it. There they were, talking and laughing with one another. Or should I say shouting and whooping. Yes, I should say that because that's exactly what they were doing. 

I don't know what it is about participating in group conversations in public settings that causes people to feel this insuppressible need to laugh and shout so loudly that it echoes around the buildings and reverberates across campus, but apparently there's something because it happens all the time. 

Every time I hear this babel, I feel like I'm hearing "Quick! Look at me! I have friends! And we're laughing together because we are just so funny! Everybody should look at us being friends and notice our big, outgoing and spunky personalities! Ahahaha!"

Well, that's a bit of an exaggeration, but still. I feel like these abnormally loud and obnoxious conversations are getting out of hand. People, just enjoy your friends at a normal human decibel and let the rest of us pass along without feeling harassed by your ruckus.

A true gem.

People complain that running in the Smith Fieldhouse is boring, but personally, I enjoy it. I find it incredibly entertaining. Instead of staring at the sidewalk or houses or random ugly cars passing by, you can watch people. Lots and lots of people. And trust me when I say that there are some very interesting people that gather at the fieldhouse to exercise. Sure you could listen to your headphones to those same old songs, but if you get sick of that then just keep them in, but turn off the volume. That way people will assume you can't hear what they are saying and will carry on with their oh-so-fascinating conversations as you pass by or run behind them. For example, today I overheard an extensive discussion on blood type and pregnancy. Fascinating, truly.
But if you want to keep your music going, then by all means, keep it going. There is plenty to see that will keep you entirely entertained, even if you can't hear the sounds of it all. Today I was able to watch parts of an intense dodgeball game as well as determine which runners had power issues. I did the latter by letting certain runners pass me and then shortly thereafter speeding up a little bit and passing them, and then noting their reaction. One particularly power-hungry girl responded by suddenly full on sprinting a good 1/4 lap to get indisputably ahead of me. Touchy much? I would say so.
It also is very interesting to me how some people can look so cool as they run and others....well, bless their hearts.
Anyway, if all of this fascinating entertainment isn't enough for you, then you can surely find enjoyment in the many other features the fieldhouse has to offer. Which are:
1.) Drinking fountains
2.) Bathroom
3.) Clock
4.) Shelter from the brutal cold and protection from the rapists

So all in all, I think it's safe to say the fieldhouse is a winner.

The Vow

For Valentine's Day yesterday, some girls in my ward and I went and saw "The Vow".  It was great and even better than I had expected it to be.
And of course, Channing Tatum was beautiful. No surprises there.
This picture basically sums up my feelings towards him:

But seriously, I really enjoyed this movie. Believe it or not, it was actually surprisingly deep because it's about more than simply the love between two people. Although that does serve as the primary focus of the movie, as a whole it's more about life in general and how each choice and each moment gradually moves us along in life. And whether we accept it or not, these moments are what come to define us and make us the people that we are.
Essentially, each person is a living, breathing collage of moments.
Isn't that interesting to think about?
Throughout the movie, Channing, or rather "Leo", narrates on and off. At one point, he says:

"Life's all about moments of impact, and how they change our lives forever. But what if one day you could no longer remember any of them?" 

Think about that. What if the person you were was suddenly stuck in the circumstances that the person you are created? What would you think of your life? Would you agree with the decisions that your future self made?
Maybe this isn't as fascinating a subject as it seems, but to me it is. This movie gave me a new way of thinking about things. Instead of thinking of my life in terms of achievements and destinations, it has caused me to reflect on my life in terms of choices and experiences, which I think is the way life is meant to be looked at.
Anyway, all I have left to say is true love is a powerful thing people.
Fo reals.

I. Can. Not. Wait.

Today my ticket to the Ingrid Michaelson concert arrived in the mail! So excited! Now I just have to wait 2 months....

Just another day in the life of an expert polyglot. Not.

Today in my Spanish conversation lab we were talking about our weekend plans.
This is what I thought I said to the T.A:
"This weekend I'm going to see the play BYU is putting on called "The Merchant of Venice."
But, this is what she thought I said:
"This weekend I'm performing in the BYU play "The Merchant of Venice."
Clearly, my Spanish could use some work.
She smiled really big, looked really impressed and wished me good luck with my show.
Even though I realized that there was clearly some type of miscommunication going on, I just let it happen. I didn't have the brain power to think up the Spanish words to try and correct the misunderstanding and honestly, I really didn't care that much.
So, I made like a Beatle and let it be.
But now my entire conversation lab class thinks I'm an actress. Great.
Well, maybe someday I'll tell them the truth.

Life lately.

Sometimes I forget that I even have a blog. I don't know how this happens, but it does. It probably happens the same way that I forget other things in life. I have questioned the health of my memory more than once in my life. I very well may be a premature sufferer of dementia or Alzheimer's. But I also am a slight hypochondriac, so disregard everything I just said.
Anyway, so here are two things that have happened to me lately:

Event #1 - I'm a celebrity.

So a group of Koreans decided to up and visit BYU for a few weeks. We're talking legit Koreans here too, not just some Americanized ones. The real thing, through and through. And lucky for me, they decided to sit in on one of my classes. My professor warned us of this before hand, but naturally I remembered it was going to happen every day except the day that it was actually going to happen. So when I walked into my class at 10:57 am Monday morning I was surprised to see a row of Korean women lining the back row. I did a double take and then proceeded to plop myself down in my seat. After sitting there for a few seconds, I decided that I hadn't observed them sufficiently so I turned my head to give them a more thorough glance. And what do I see? A camera. And where is this camera pointed? Directly at my face. I stare into it, trying to process what is happening. At the exact moment when my brain realized "Hey Cara, you're being photographed by a Korean girl" the flash went off and bam. It was finished. I turned my head back to face the front again, still trying to fully understand what just happened. I had just been photographed by a Korean tourist. Why? After much thought and pondering, I have come to form this explanation for myself:
The conversation that took place prior to the taking of the photograph:
Korean Girl #1: "Ahhhh! OMG! Huge American girl walking in room! Wow! She tall!"
Korean Girl #2: "Take picture! Quick while she no looking!"
(Korean Girl #1 rushes to take out camera, meanwhile Sasquatch American girl sits down.)
Korean Girl #1: "No! She sit down!"
Korean Girl #1: "Take picture of her big head!"
Korean Girl #2: "Ok I take picture."
And the rest is history.

Event #2 - Bathroom Meetings

Do you ever have people that you don't know but that you always run into? I have several. Most of them are harmless, but one of them is starting to cause distress. She's a janitor at the library. And for some strange and embarrassing reason, literally every time I use the bathroom in the library, she is there. Always. It is getting to the point that I am keeping a lookout for her and will postpone my bathroom trips to avoid her presence. Today, I thought the coast was clear. I searched the surroundings and there was no sign of her. But then, as I sat in the stall, thinking I had at last escaped her, I heard the jingling. The jingling of the dreaded janitor keys. Immediately I knew it was her. I tried to remain calm and as silent as possible and stayed in the safety of the stall. "She must not know I am here," I thought. I waited in the stall until I heard the slow jingle of her keys leave the bathroom and only then did I go out and wash my hands.
Close call.
I guess one could say that the whole issue is making me a little crazy. Maybe. Just a little.

Anyway, I should get back to my homework now. I have procrastinated the pain long enough. It is now time to suffer.
Adios.

Brings tears to my eyes.

There are some movies in this world that just make the Cara Waterwork's kick in to high gear and "Remember the Titans" is one of them. I don't know why, it's not your typical tear jerker. It's just something about the camaraderie and the team bonding and the power of the human soul...ahh! It's just so good! Definitely one of my all time favorites. It is just the perfect combination of emotion for a movie. Whenever I finish watching it,  I feel so alive! It makes me want to go out and join a football team and sweat, yell and bond with my fellow players! But, that will never happen so I will just forever love this movie and revel in the human spirit of it all.
Love love love.
Plus, it has Ryan Gosling in it. And other attractive men.
Just basically all around greatness.
Here are two of my favorite scenes from the movie:

She's sexy and she knows it.

I have been missing my cat a lot lately, so the following post is dedicated to her. Hopefully it will make you come to love her as much as I do. Enjoy.

Once upon a time in my 12th year of life, I decided that it was time to get another cat. I was just recovering from the death of my last one and was finally ready for a new one. I really wanted to get a kitten, but my mom encouraged me to look at the county shelters and the Humane Society first. So I did. And I found this sexy animal:

I saw her photo online on some Adopt-a-Pet website and fell in love. (She looked much thinner than she does now and in the above photo. The years have not been good to her figure.) So the next day, we all shuffled on over to the animal shelter to meet her in the flesh. They brought her out from her cage and let us fawn over her in the lobby. Immediately it became evident that this cat had problems. There was a fake bamboo tree in the lobby that she promptly proceeded to rake savagely with her front claws. And when she wasn't racing about the room acting neurotic, she was meowing constantly. But it wasn't just your occasional friendly "Meow" it was more along the lines of "meowmeowmeowmeowmeowmeow" Yea. You could say it was rather annoying. But my 12 -year -old self was sold. My mom was slightly concerned, but she conceded nonetheless. So I gathered her up in my arms, paid the woman at the shelter my hard earned $40 and took my precious little cat home.
Now I'm not going to lie and say all was smooth sailing after that. It most certainly wasn't. We had our rough spots, yes. There was the time she thought my leather beanbag was a glorified litterbox made just for her. And oh the fury when my unsuspecting brother plopped himself down in it, thoroughly soiling his pants and underwear. That was a dark day.
But we love her despite her problems. Well, my sister and I do at least. Truly though, she has come a long way.
My sister even worships her now and it pleases her (the cat) greatly.

Just kidding. This photo was posed. But still, do you see how happy she is? It's as if she's thinking "At last they are treating me as I deserve." She thinks she deserves a lot of things.
Anyway, we moved. That's when we met Elvis. He is fat, huge, gray and fluffy. He's also a cat. Her and Elvis do not get along. They have fights. They go into each others yard's and harass one another. They screech loudly at each another.
It is very entertaining.
My cat has a special sound she makes that is reserved only for Elvis. I call it the "Elvis Howl". It is quite possibly the worst sound I have ever heard. The first time I heard it, I came running down the stairs, sure that I would find her writhing in pain, her innards squirting all over the floor. But no, she was perfectly fine. She was sitting in the window, gazing at Elvis, who was prancing about our yard and fully aware of the anguish he was causing her. This face-off between the two of them has since become a frequent occurrence.

Here they are staring at each other.

But lately, their friendly mutual hatred has gotten more violent. My dad has had to intervene a few times by getting the hose and dousing them with it. Quite the diplomat he is.
But I think they are secretly in love. They're just both too shy to show it.

So that's her in a nutshell. Isn't she great?

A diamond in the rough.

This is Birdy.

Birdy

She is 15 years old.
She's from this country:

England

And she sings like this:

Angel

She covered the song "Skinny Love" by Bon Iver and her version has become one of my favorite songs. Ever.

She also sings this song, which is almost as great. It's called "People Help The People." The music video is pretty amazing too.

I got the piano sheet music for her cover of "Skinny Love" and I love it dearly. It is so beautiful. But every time  I try to sing along, it generally ends up sounding nothing like her and a lot like this:

My vocally talented sister took pity on me and was giving me lessons on how to sing it over the break. So who knows? Maybe someday I will be able to do it justice. But for now I'll just stick to the piano. You can thank me later.

Here is one last beautiful song from the wonderful Birdy:

She's so great.

The events of the eve of Christmas.

       My winter break was glorious. I miss it dearly. It was also highly entertaining. On Christmas Eve, my sister and I decided to shake things up a bit and rather than lounge about the house like sacks of flour all morning, we decided to go for a run around the middle school track. Seems innocent enough right? I slapped on some random clothes and tied my shoes and then began the long process of awaiting my sister's readiness, which consisted of periodically shouting up the stairs and occasionally threatening departure. I don't know who she expected to see out on the streets of Reno Christmas Eve morning, but there was clearly somebody.

      At last, she finished. We moseyed on over to the track and began running laps. We walked the last lap to cool down. So there we were, two naive girls, getting their exercise on a beautifully wholesome Christmas Eve morning when suddenly to our great surprise we heard the roar of a dirt bike coming down the street. I turned my happy little head to see who else was enjoying the crisp Christmas Eve air and saw two boys, one driving and another clutching to his back. Immediately upon eye contact, the rear rider shouted an indistinguishable obscenity and then he flipped me the birdy. 

Yes. I was flipped off on Christmas Eve. 

Was I offended? Why yes, yes I was. But I was also slightly amazed that I of all people, had the rare opportunity of being flipped off on the eve of the most magical day of the year. A true honor indeed.

         I don't even have the slightest notion of what could have possibly triggered such anger in the boy. Perhaps he was offended by my choice of clothing? Or maybe it was my choice to exercise on Christmas Eve? Who knows. All I know is that I was flipped off on Christmas Eve. 

Definitely a story for posterity.

         When we got back, my sister decided to take the longest shower in the history of mankind. I waited for a good 40 minutes for the water from her shower to shut off, but it never did. I decided that it was bound to turn off soon, so I might as well just get in now. Well, it didn't turn off soon. Only a precious 5 minutes had passed when the water pouring from my shower head turned to icy death. I nearly had a heart attack, but managed to suffer through the iciness to finish my bathing ritual. But my sister was not so determined. Upon the onset of the icy death, she immediately turned off her water and resolved to sit in the bathroom until the warm water returned. 

          Well, it took a long time for it to come back.

  A very long time.

          She began to call out to me, begging me to bring her the Harry Potter 7 book to relieve her boredom. I laughed for a long time and then refused, leaving her with the wisdom to "suck it up." She began entreating other members of the family to fulfill her request, but was met with similar responses. Although my dad didn't bring her the book, he brought her another kind of entertainment. He put his head to the bathroom door and began to sing to her "I'll be stinky for Christmas, you can count on that....I'll be clean for Christmas, if only in my dreams!" 

It was pretty great.

           That evening, we had our traditional Christmas Eve Program, which consists of various Christmas songs being either played on the piano or sung by the kids of the family. It was going well up until my sister sang the last song of the program, "Mary, Did You Know?". As she sang this beautiful song, the room became unusually quiet and for a moment, we seemed like a normal family.

She sang the last climactic line "The sleeping child you're holding is the Great, I Am!" We all were smiling pleasantly, preparing to ensue with the customary clapping when suddenly the silence was rent with a powerful fart from my youngest brother. The shock of it made us forget to applaud. Mouths agape, we stared at him, awaiting an explanation.

"My butt clapped-ed!" he proudly proclaimed. 

So that sufficed as the final applause for the evening. 

        Well, I could go on, but this is already quite lengthy, for a blog post anyway. So, I love my family and Christmas break is a beautiful thing.

The end.
Oh, and this video brought me Christmas cheer. 
P.S- The end of it is the funniest part.