BYU Round Two

I can't believe It's been a year since I started at BYU. I remember last year at this time I came up a week early nervous for, well, everything.

That weekend my brothers gave me a tour around campus and if I remember correctly at one point Adam, in an attempt to recreate a normal day in the shuffle of BYU student body, called me a whore while he pushed and shoved me around....good times.

I'm proud to tell you BYU campus is not at all like Adam promised it would be.

That Monday Kyle {the slightly more helpful brother} had me meet him on campus because he was going to get me a job. Of course I wore heels and by the time I trekked it up to Campus my shoes had rubbed my feet raw {see post below for why shoes hate me so much}. After hours of begging for a job I ditched my shoes for the sweet relief of bare feet and to my great chagrin I discovered the sidewalks were boiling hot. By the time I got home my feet had sustained third degree burns that were birthing giant blisters {O you better believe I have a right to be dramatic}.

The rest of the week was spent hobbling around shopping for food, clothes, and furniture while trying desperately to make the most of my last days of freedom.

I distinctly remember how scared I was to be up here and now instead of feeling fear for the unknown I fully understand what I will be put through. I know exactly how much my classes will challenge me and in a weird way I'm more scared for this year than I was then.

BYU pushes you to your limits, but the interesting thing is it also shows you how much you are capable of. I have never felt more inadequate or more accomplished than during my time spent on this campus. It's given me my highest highs and my lowest lows and I am oddly grateful.

Those highs were worth it.

So today, when the thought of school turns me into a jittery insomniac with a vanishing appetite, I dig myself out of a nervous breakdown by remembering how this semester will be different.

I won't be working weekends or late hours.
I already have a solid foundation of amazing friends from this past year.
And most importantly I now know which flavors at the BYU creamery are my favorite.

I have high hopes for this semester, it won't be easy, but it will be worth it.

I'd Rather Be Barefoot....

Shoes are the silent killers.

I don't know if you've ever taken a gander at my feet, but they are simply atrocious. Here's a picturesque description; utterly flat, slightly vainy, lanky toes, and giant bunions....gross eh. I sure didn't win the gene pool lottery with these ugly whoopers.



{Mine are on the right}

I remember my mom even told me to never show a guy my feet because, apparently, that would be reason enough to dump me. Point taken, what guy would want to pass this gene onto their children {I avoid guys with lazy eyes for the same reason}.

Needless to say shoes are like the oil to my feets water and although I've been aware shoes resistance to handle my feet with care I had no idea shoes hate ran so deep. After many years of growing suspicion, I finally uncovered the secret plot of all shoes to destroy their ugliness. And in complete and utter betrayal my very own shoes have followed suit and conspired to kill off my poor feet.

Every shoe's job has been discovered; flats are over the smashing of my bunions {Should a lady ever mention the word bunions in relation to herself...probably not sigh}to the point of nonrecognition, flip flops supervise the digging of tiny straps into the bony tops of my feet, and heals have full control over punishing my feet for never being built to arch.

The sad thing is I keep buying different shoes in hopes that one day a pair will take pity on my Quasimodo feet. And on that day I won't have to fight the common urge to strip barefoot and scamper across campus as a free woman.

But today is not that day and so, just like the many days before it, my feet are aching and there's nothing I can do about it.

Anyone up for giving me a foot massage :)

...ya I wouldn't do it either.

Being a Lora

Something terrible has happened.

This Sunday I was in Relief Society and they started introducing the new girls and…gulp…there are now three more Lora’s in my ward.

Maybe you’re not so great at math but that is a total of four Lora’s.

I have never had this happen before.

On rare occasions I have met a Lora or two BUT NEVER THREE.

Where's the originality parents? Huh, how bout naming your girls things like Ava or Scarlet. There are no Ava's or Scarlet's in my ward. None.

One of these Lora's even had the audacity to have curly hair. Just who does she think she is? Curly hair is my territory. Thank goodness she was short or we would have had a throw down at ward prayer.

I bet they spell it Laura….lame.

Anyone can be a Laura, but it takes hard work being Lora, nae, it is quite an impossible task for the average human.

Being a Lora means being able to replace a nutritious diet with chocolate and still feel great. It means being able to read a book in a day simply because you can’t stand the thought of abandoning the story midway through. It means being so addicted to music you find it hard to walk without its constant flow. It means using laughter to express a full range of emotions; in Lora-land there is no difference between worry or rile, all is consumed with laughter. Ultimately, being a Lora means doing stupid things because you haven’t quite grasped how to be normal.

I almost feel bad for these other Laura’s because they’ll never get to be a Lora….but really who would wish it on them, it’s exhausting.