Turn the hour hand back to when you were holding me.

Story time!
Once upon a time I had a really great story that I held out on my blog because I'm lazy and nobody reads this anyway, then one day I decided to share this mysterious story
Today is that day.
The boy kissing me in front of that dolphin is Mr. Noah. I am absolutely positively crazy about him. It all started when he asked me ( a complete stranger) to prom last year, I couldn't help liking this crazy, funny, cute boy who made me eat my steak with chopsticks, and tried so hard to out-dance me, and blasted Back in Black, and destroyed everyone at paintball, and opened all my doors (which he has continued to do every time we drive for 1 year).  And for some reason he fell for my terrible flirting techniques, outrageous dance moves and not-so-lady-like ability to plaster him with paint. Next thing we knew he was chasing me until I caught him. Noah introduced me to kissing with a magical first kiss slow dancing in the moonlight that knocked the strength out of my knees, turned my entire world upside down, and managed to redefine "home" as wherever he was. And then he went and moved.
Early December the boy who had come to know me in a way no one else ever had moved away to Saudi Arabia. ( I promise I'm not making this stuff up!) and took my heart in his suitcase. Winter was a dreary time trying to figure out who I was and where I was. I knew I couldn't just go back to the girl I was before Noah, and without him I couldn't be the girl I was when he was here, it was a weird time in which I was wrapped in a cocoon of confusion and heart break.
Noah and I decided we should break up. Long distance is much too hard and weird and different. About one week into that we realized breaking up was 100 times harder. So we stayed together over facetime and texts and letters. In that time our relationship was very hard and sometimes we tried to quit, but each time we overcame the stupidness of a 10 hour time difference, and our relationship grew into something even sweeter and more worth it. And I guess that's where I am now. I haven't seen my best friend in person except for a 4 day visit over prom (which was amazing-story to come) but somehow I am even more hopeful about it all. So there you have it. The story of my first love. May there be much much more to come.
The end.

Your brain gets smart but your head gets dumb.

I decided I like stories on blogs so here goes:
Once upon a time I gate crashed a party, cut my chin on a tree and drove around until my curfew. The End.
Once upon a time I invited the most awkward people ever over and tried very hard to ride away on my bicycle. The End.
Once upon a time I partied hard at a stake dance and joined in when they started the High School Musical dance. The End.
Once upon a time I just sat around and made art all day and forgot to shower which was gross. The End.
Once upon a time I drove down to Provo because I wanted to be around my sister more than my friends. The End.
Once upon a time I stayed up all night reading The Importance of Being Earnest and laughed my head off. The End.
Once upon a time I had a million of things to post about, but didn't post any of them, and I realized how nice that is. The End.
The End.

Sunday Stories

Reasons Why Today Was Awesome:

1: I visited that beautiful place we all love^

2: I came home from my Grandma's house with a plate full of cookies and a pumpkin.

3: I decided to name the before mentioned pumpkin, Bingley.

4: I got my hair cut, this is always bitter sweet for me. 

5: My dad comes home tonight. 

6: I finally took a few pictures.

7: I forgot to put on makeup this morning and I just didn't care.

8: Sister missionary farewells. For the win.

9: Pride & Prejudice music always.

10: It was Sunday and Sundays are always awesome.

Frances Monson

The world lost a wonderful lady on Friday. I thought I would pay my respects with this story:

 "The first day I saw Frances, I knew I'd found the right one. The Lord brought us together later, and I asked her to go out with me. I went to her home to call on her. She introduced me, and her father said, 

"Monson'-that's a Swedish name, isn't it?" I said, Yes." He said, "Good." Then he went into another room and brought out a picture of two missionaries with their top hats and their copies of the Book of Mormon. "Are you related to this Monson," he said, "Elias Monson?" I said, "Yes, he's my grandfather's brother. He too was a missionary in Sweden." Her father wept. He wept easily. He said, "He and his companion were the missionaries who taught the gospel to my mother and father and all of my brothers and sisters and to me." He kissed me on the cheek. And then her mother cried, and she kissed me on the other cheek. And then I looked around for Frances. She said, "I'll go get my coat"

(President Thomas S. Monson, "Abundantly Blessed," Ensign, May 2008, 111.)