drama, drama, drama

Yep. There has been loads of it lately. Loads and loads of D-R-A-M-A drama. It's my family, it's a holiday, I don't know what I expected but it wasn't this...at all. Nope, this was a shock. We usually have lots of traditions and do loads of fun family things...but not this year. This year, not even one activity will take place with my family for the Christmas season.

So this Christmas is going to be lonely. But oh well.

At least I have Clad. Everything else may always fall apart for me, but as long as I've got him, I'm good. He's the best thing that's ever happened to me and literally the biggest blessing ever. And really, as long as he's happy and we're together, I'll be just fine.

Love,
Lizzy ;)

i thought of you

i thought of you
in the dark of the night
i thought of you
when the sun shined so bright
i thought of you
in the silence
of each snowflake...

i'm lonely
but not alone,
i've got you.
i'm quite poorly
but never gone,
not with you.

you are with me
in the passenger's seat.
you are with me
in the depths of my sleep.
you are with me
no matter
how far
you are.

i'm lonely
but not alone,
i've got you.

i'm quite poorly,
but never gone,
i've got you.

i'm one and only
and because
i've got you.

i'll never die
just because
i've
got

you.

endless cycle of defeat and doom

I am physically unable to function ordinarily in everyday situations. If you know me, you will have noticed this disturbing fact. In fact, I have three modes:

1. HAHAHAA I JUST HAD 200 MILLIGRAMS OF CAFFEINE FROM A LIQUID CALLED SOMETHING INVOLVING THE WORD "XTREME" BECAUSE IT'S TOO EXTREME FOR E'S! NOW I'M GOING TO RUN AROUND LAUGHING ALARMINGLY HARD AT NOTHING AND SUDDENLY DANCING! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAA.
2. dark depression. endless sleeping. death. moroseness. general unhappiness.
3. Special Mode Only Prompted by Presence of Clad Where Both Modes Have Actually Found A Happy Medium and Life is Full of Joy and Contentment Most of the Time.

As you probably noticed, the first mode is almost solely caffeine-induced. Caffeine is one of my very best friends. Although it tastes like bitter dying death pain (you will know this if you've ever had STAY ALERT gum. It is in all caps for a reason), it can successfully be smothered in massive amounts of Splenda, poured into a black can, and provide Lizzy with endless (not) energy and a confusingly non-situational feeling of perpetual well-being. Recently, I downed a particularly potent poison, and Stats class was probably the funnest two and a half hours of my life. I was just sitting there, grinning, sweating, and full of excited neurological tremors as my teacher calmly explained power and how it is like a metal detector. I can't tell you how hilarious and amazing everything seems when you have had that much caffeine and then you are placed in a confined space and asked to listen to a statistics professor.

Unfortunately, I was not kidding when I said there are only three modes, the third of which is MIA for the next seventeen months. The rest of my life consists of Lizzy Sleeping, perpetuated only briefly by Lizzy Contemplating Doing Homework, Lizzy Finding Herself Physically Unable to Do Homework, and Lizzy Whining About Her Inexplicable but Real Inability to Do Homework.

The tough part is bridging the two modes in order to obtain caffeine. It has taken me nearly three days to successfully do so.

But now I have! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH.

Love,
Lizzy ;)

dear body,

Dear Body,

Please explain to me why, exactly, you decided to wake up at 3:09 am this morning. Did you know you went to bed at 12:10? Did you know you got 3 hours of sleep? Did you know it is now 4:25 am and you still won't go back to sleep? Did you know you have a stats test in 12 hours your BRAIN over here is really scared about?

WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?! WHY ARE YOU TORTURING MEEEEEEEEE....

Love,

Lizzy's Brain X/

dear red bull,

Dear Red Bull,

I'm really sorry I cheated on you with Monster. And then again with NeuroSonic. I know you have more caffeine and fewer calories than both of them put together. It's just that you're so disgusting. If you could be less disgusting, I would not have to cheat on you. Wait, in all fairness, Monster is equally disgusting. But I'm seriously considering running off with NeuroSonic, even though he's way more high-maintenance and also makes me feel like I'm on speed. Still, I'll never forget how fun you made statistics class. And the fact that I'm writing a blog post at 1:20 am. That is thanks to you also.

Love,

Lizzy.

Dear Honors 300R Professor,

Did you know that I have 10 'polished' pages of a 20-30 page research paper due in exactly one week? I do. Guess how many pages of that have been completed? Is your guess zero? You are correct.

I hate you.

Love,

Lizzy.

Dear Grad Student to whom I have been Enslaved,

I know technically I signed myself up for this. But really, I was planning to break the news to you many moons ago. You are a good person somewhere very, very deep down inside, but really I do not have time to go on making Excel sheets until I die. Even if I liked making Excel sheets. Which I do not. Also, I have read the names Wisner, Gregoire, Dalton K, and O'Hara MW so many times that they don't look like words any more. I have also typed them, put them into APA format, checked their comparisons, and made you a coding manual. And that was just what I did today.

Also, do you HAVE to color code EVERYTHING?

In conclusion, I love you, but please die.

Love,

Lizzy.

Dear Roommate,

You snore like a bear. Sometimes it wakes me up. From my bear dreams. That your snoring prompted.

Love,

Lizzy.

Dear Other Roommate,

You giggle and talk about Voldemort, your boyfriend, and iTunes in your sleep. Sometimes you also make up songs involving teeth, and hum loudly. If you could sleep a little bit quieter, that would be awesome. But if not, that's cool too, because you make me laugh.

Love,

Lizzy.

Dear Blog Readers,

Are you seriously still reading this? Don't you have lives or something better to do?

No really, though. You ought to stop procrastinating and do something useful instead of reading letters to energy drinks all day long. You'll rot your brain, you know.

Love,

Lizzy ;)

speed laundry

tiny french washing machine. notice it is only slightly larger than my head. And I have a pinhead.

When I was in France, and we had to go to a laundromat that closed at 9pm, we developed something we called "Speed Laundry." Important clarification: this does not refer to doing speed while doing laundry. I mean "Doing Laundry at High Speeds." This blog does not endorse the use of speed for laundry purposes. Or other purposes. Shhh you get the idea.

Here was our brilliant plan:

8:20- Realize it was 8:20.

8:20-30- Frantically gather up random clothes that may or may not need washing. Shove them into grocery bags, because we don't have a laundry basket or clothing carrying thingy.

8:30-Shove clothes into washing machine.

8:30-8:58- Sit in laundromat (for the record, I wrote "laundry mat" twice before I figured out the word is laundromat.) and discuss art.

8:58-8:59- Frantically shove clothes into dryer.

9-9:30- Pray the manager doesn't kick us out before our clothes are done drying. Succeed.

9:31- Grab clothes, shove back in grocery bags, run home as fast as possible because we don't live in the best neighborhood and oh my gosh is that drunk man talking to us and oh no we are not very big or very strong and quick quick enter the gate code and run run inside and pull the door closed and breathe heavily.

9:40-10pm- Hang up clothes on curtain rack, on top of radiator, in the bathroom, on the bedposts, on a chair, and anywhere else we can find. Later be chastised for potentially warping the wood. Apologize. Ask where we should hang the clothes. Be met with response we don't understand. Pretend to understand.

We repeated this cycle about once a week. It was highly effective. Here in the lovely United States, with a laundry mat (oh forget it, I just keep writing it like that) in our apartment complex that doesn't close, in a nice neighborhood...it is an improvement. I will say that. Also, it costs $3 instead of $20.

Also in France they have the smallest washing machines known to man.

Love,

Lizzy ;)

pressure, pancakes, and pandas

what happens when you type "pancake panda" into Google Images

What do pancakes and pandas have to do with this post? Well, for one they both start with P. That is maybe the end of the list though.

I am feeling under A LOT of pressure lately. This is largely due to my own procrastination. For some reason, I am unable to do anything until I suddenly realize I am horribly behind in absolutely everything and I am so stressed out I can hardly breathe.

This happened today.

For some reason, I can never wake up before 7am. My body just outright refuses. It's like it doesn't care at all about my success or well-being. So, although every day this week I've intended to get up at 6, or at the latest 6:30, I get up at 7. Even this morning. When I have a lab at 8am that takes 25 minutes to walk to.

Unfortunately, that means I don't get anything done in the morning. I also don't get anything done during the day because I am retarded. I don't get anything done at night because...I am still retarded. Basically, I don't get anything done ever.

When you never do anything, the things just build up and build up. Soon the world is a vortex of doom and also things you needed to do ages ago but never did.

A good thing to do when you have so many things that need to be done you are sweating under the pressure and will never have time to finish, is to blog.

Love,

Lizzy ;)

confession: i love rainstorms

this isn't my picture. i am not that cool.

Clad hates rainstorms. He hates it when it's overcast. He hates it when it snows. Pretty much the only weather Clad like is warm and sunny. Which is great, everybody loves warmth and sun.

But truth be told, I actually like rainstorms. I love sitting inside with a cup of hot chocolate and watching the rain come down in sheets. I love the slight danger of driving. I love reading at Borders and hearing the pound of water on asphalt outside. Of course, I don't actually like being in the rain. It is only cool if you are inside, and it is outside. It is not cool at all when you are both contained in the same space. That is the opposite of cool.

Right now, it is just the sort of weather Clad hates. Let's just say, I'm loving it. Shh, don't tell.

Love,

Lizzy ;)

domestic goddess? FAIL.

this is not my child or my picture. i do want a child though. someday.

One thing I love to do is cook. I love cooking. Unfortunately, I am a terrible cook.

There was the time where I decided to make squash and, for some reason, added beets to the yellow squash in the pan. The yellow squash turned a brilliant and disgusting pink. Even I couldn't stomach this particular creation. It was bright pink, though. Seriously. Pink.

Then there was the time I decided to make a tuna rice casserole and added oregano instead of thyme and carrots instead of peas...resulting in a disgusting, disgusting thing that actually moved as if it were alive. Well, maybe not that crazy, but close. It was AWFUL.

But I am working on it. I am determined to become a domestic goddess. And when I am determined to do something, usually I give up because I'm not good at it. This time WILL be different. That is what I said to myself. Not out loud. That would be weird.

So today I decided to make a butternut-quinoa soup. It sounds awesome, to me. So I went to Walmart. They didn't have butternut squash. I now know you cannot substitute something like beets or radishes or carrots and get the same result. They didn't have quinoa either. I decided against making a beet-rice soup, because that sounds disgusting.

So I decided to make chicken soup. But I couldn't find curry powder and, again, am too scared to substitute. Also too scared to stray from the recipe book. Cookbook. They are called cookbooks. I am an idiot.

In the end, I came back from Walmart with the ingredients to make salad and breakfast burritos. Also some plain yogurt, fruit, and cottage cheese. Plain yogurt is actually really good if you drizzle some honey on it. That's how they do it in France, and it is a wonderful plan.

Poor Clad. I may never be a domestic goddess.

Love,

Lizzy ;)

wheat and hot chocolate: NOT the same thing

Well, we all know Lizzy can't eat wheat, otherwise she throws up for hours and it is highly unpleasant and stuff. But an important distinction to make when discussing wheat and not eating it is, what is wheat exactly?

I will tell you what wheat is not first. Wheat is not:

• Ice cream
• Hot chocolate
• Peanut butter
• Beef
• Potato
• Broccoli
• Cheese
  
• Bears

Wheat is:

• Bread
• Crackers
• Graham crackers
• Flour
• Cookies
• Brownies
• Cake
• Cinnamon rolls
• Pancakes
• Wheat.

So if you want to poison me, make sure you check this list, because hot chocolate and beef are ineffective poisons. Highly ineffective. You are welcome.

Love,

Lizzy ;)

gray linoleum

It has been kind of a dismal day.

It has been rainy and cloudy and coldish. Things that, with the companionship of Clad, or perhaps a bunch of girlfriends, are fun and cozy, but which alone are rather, well, lonely. I haven't been doing well in school, owing to a crippling inability to study (I still haven't figured it out). I still feel fat, and I'm not always grateful for that. I miss that guy I'm in love with. I'm out of shape. I'm alone and bored with life. Everything feels kind of like gray linoleum.

But then, I'm sitting on gray linoleum. I've just eaten tuna in corn tortillas with cucumber, which is strangely very good. I had a meeting with Dr. Bushes, who is always supportive and telling me how great I am, even though he's a genius and my meager efforts are unimpressive at best.

I guess what I'm trying to say is, maybe gray linoleum isn't so bad after all. But let's be honest, who loves gray linoleum?

Love,

Lizzy ;)

PS-Happy fall :)

dear cinnamon chex, i love you.

At first, going gluten-free seemed impossibly hard and miserable. However, with time, I now barely notice it. Although I do eat WAY too much candy. Because I am super nice person, I will share with you some good gluten-free foods, in case you have celiac or are on a GF diet.

• Cinnamon Chex are possibly one of the greatest things known to man.
• Also Honey Nut Chex.
• You have no idea how quickly you can get sick of corn tortillas, but luckily they are like $1 for 700 and basically anything that alone is edible will also be edible in a corn tortilla. By which I mean, just stick everything in a corn tortilla. I don't really know why.
• Fruit. Fruit is my favoritist thing ever.
• Eggs. Eggs are not a fruit, but they are a complete protein, and that is awesome too.
• Amy's gluten-free frozen dinners.
• Rice.
• Tuna.

There you go. Foods that are gluten free. Some other good tips are to NOT eat massive amounts of candy, or get angry and just eat some lasagna. That is not very good for you. Nope.

Love,

Lizzy :)

how I ended up in a crazed motorcycle chase with a floral delivery van

How I Ended Up in a Crazed Motorcycle Chase with a Floral Delivery Van

by Lizzy

This is a story and so, like all good stories, it starts out with me junk punching someone. Just kidding. But I wanted to.

Once upon a time, Lizzy's computer's screen became cracked when her foot, wildly out of control and acting of its own volition, put its full weight on the computer. Lizzy cried. She called around to find a place that would fix the computer for free. She did not succeed, shockingly, but she did find somewhere that said they could fix the computer that same day for only $100. "Huzzah!" she thought, "Now all of my wildest dreams will come true!" So Lizzy drove her computer to PC Provo, excited for the same-day repair. Unfortunately, she was informed that a better and faster (?) way would be to send the computer to the manufacturer. "Okay," she thought. It was not optimal, but she needed the computer fixed somehow. So, she shipped the computer to the manufacturer.

One week later, Lizzy was getting worried. She called Asus, who apologetically informed her their computers had all crashed. Since the company actually makes computers, this did not really seem to reflect well on their products, but what could Lizzy do? So she waited another week until she got an email requesting payment information. The cost was $165. This was highly unfortunate but, again, what could Lizzy do? She reluctantly paid the company.

One more week later, the computer had finally shipped. Lizzy anxiously checked the online tracking site for 5 days. Her computer had all of her research data on it, so she'd been unable to work on her research paper, and Dr. Bushes was beginning to get anxious. They were now three weeks behind on their deadline. Lizzy reassured him that the computer was on its way.

But the computer did not come and did not come. After repeatedly calling FedEx, it was found that the FedEx man had gone to the wrong apartment. She was assured the mistake had been corrected in the file, and the computer would arrive the following day.

The computer did not arrive. Lizzy had been in class, and apparently her personal signature was required for the computer to be delivered. Resigned and in desperate need of her computer, Lizzy missed class the following day to wait for the computer.

Can you guess what happened next? The computer did not come. Again. Lizzy had to tell Dr. Bushes they were now a month behind due to her missing computer. He began to be frustrated. Lizzy was frustrated, too. She had all of her class notes on the computer, and her midterms were that same week. She had conscientiously backed up all of her data, but to no avail--her flash drive was stolen from a library computer when she'd left to print something at the printers five feet away.

Lizzy cried some more.

The next day, Lizzy missed class again to wait for the computer. Again, the computer did not come. Despite specific, urgent instructions and a large, unmistakable sign, the delivery man had once again gone to the wrong apartment. Lizzy was now hopelessly behind in school and on all three research projects. People were beginning to get upset with her. Her fragile emotional state was broken, and she fell into a complete breakdown. She called FedEx in full-on hysterics. The lady assured her that the driver had been contacted and the problem would be rectified the following day.

That day was today. Again, Lizzy had missed class in a desperate attempt to catch the delivery man. She had actually sat outside on the sidewalk for over an hour in case he'd come to the wrong apartment again.

Lizzy had gone outside six minutes too late.

By this time, Lizzy was outraged. She called FedEx again and screamed at the poor woman. She demanded that the FedEx man turn around and delivery her package immediately. They called and called, but the driver did not answer his phone.

A few hours later, still waiting outside, Lizzy saw the FedEx truck drive by. She frantically jumped on her scooter, losing a few precious moments while it started up. She caught a glance of the back of the white van. She chased after it. She chased and she chased. Cars honked as she recklessly cut them off. She was determined not to lose the van.

Finally, the van stopped. Lizzy screeched to a halt and leapt off the scooter in pursuit of the delivery man. As she ran, she saw the side of the van for the first time.

It read, "Provo Craft and Floral."

And that is how Lizzy ended up in a motorcycle chase with a floral delivery man.

Love,

Lizzy.

PS- I am still waiting for the van. When the delivery man comes, I am going to junk punch him. Hard.

real beauty

image from Dove's campaign for real beauty

Once upon a time, I was obsessed with the size of my body. No matter what I did, I was never thin enough. My stomach was never flat enough. My arms were never muscular enough. Yet still, many would have considered me pretty, even slender.

And then my medication changed. Suddenly, I gained twenty pounds. Suddenly, I was my worst nightmare...fat.

You might argue with me; everyone does. And while by my Body Mass Index I am not technically "overweight," I'm actually quite close to that line. I weigh more than I ever have in my life. I am, to myself, fat.

It happened. My worst nightmare, a living reality. And guess what? The world did not end. My friends did not desert me. Clad did not stop loving me (granted, he isn't here, but he's gotten letters full of my body image issues and continues to assert that I am the most beautiful girl in the world because of what I'm like on the inside, not whatever I think I look like on the outside.) I did not suddenly become a social outcast or a subject of taunts and ridicule.

Sure, there were negative consequences. I still can't really bring myself to love that I'm a size 8. It is still hard for me to look in the mirror, and don't even get me started about the scale. I don't really get hit on anymore (though to be entirely honest, I appreciate that. I never found it very flattering). I'm limited in the things I can wear that are flattering for me. But that's about where the list ends.

There are actually quite a few positive consequences. I no longer feel I am objectified because of my looks. I have discovered I would much rather be loved for my personality than my dress size, because looks fade no matter what you do. What if Clad or my friends and family only loved me for my looks? What would happen when I got pregnant and my figure totally changed? What about when I was old and wrinkled? What would happen to their love for me then? Thankfully, I now already know...their love for me won't change a bit. And I have to say, that's a wonderful feeling.

Overall, while I'm unsatisfied with the way I look, I think this experience has truly been a blessing. It has forced me to learn to love myself for who I am. It has reminded me that Heavenly Father created my body in His image, and who am I to dictate how much it should weigh? It has taught me that when I get to Heaven, I don't want to tell my Heavenly Father that my life's accomplishment was being a size 2 or weighing 98 pounds. I want to tell my Heavenly Father that I loved my husband. That I tried my absolute hardest to be a good mother. That I served others. That I gave all I could give to follow Christ's example.

So, in the end, I am thankful that I am fat. And what I want for all of you, all of you beautiful daughters of our Heavenly Father, is to see yourselves the way He sees you. Remember who you are. Remember what really matters. Don't get caught up in the lies of the world that tell you thin equals happy, that you will only be successful/loved/whatever if you meet the impossible worldly standard of beauty. You are beautiful at this very moment, and you will always be beautiful. You are beautiful on the inside, and that, my friends, is what matters most.

Love,

Lizzy ;)

unusual tips fer college

Do you want to look like this person holding a diploma? Too bad, because I have no idea how to accomplish that. I do, however, have some tips on surviving some of the most common problems of college life.

1. You will encounter many problems involving "crowd control" on campus. I have no idea why; it isn't like there's Johnny Depp visiting or some really good band, people just really, really want to go through the exact door that you want to, and they want to do it NOW, and they want to go both in and out at the same time. I find, however, this is easily solved if you simply walk forcefully at people. The effect is heightened if you are carrying an absurdly large and heavy bag that you can "accidentally" whack people with if they don't move.

2. Another issue is motivating oneself to actually accomplish homework. I've taken a great spin off Nike's slogan: Just don't do it. You probably won't graduate, and you might get put on academic probation, but then you won't have to do homework! Problem solved!

3. Many college students, especially at BYU, find themselves buried under the prospect of dating. To date or not to date? How much? Who? I personally, use a simply technique I like to call "pretending I'm married." It is surprising how many people will still ask you out, but it's at least 3 people fewer than would if you weren't suspiciously wearing multiple rings on your left ring finger. Note: this tip is not recommended if you ever actually want to get married.

4. Do you have roommate trouble? What if your roommates NEVER wash the dishes, even if you have a fully functional dishwasher RIGHT THERE? The solution to this is surprisingly simple: bury rotting eggs in the dishes in the sink. Then leave for about a week. At some point, your roommates will break down and do the dishes just to get rid of the horrendously pervasive smell, all while you are happily vacationing in Switzerland.

5. My final advice is about money. I have found myself unable to buy food on a number of occasions. If this happens to you, steal a tip from my previous roommates and just eat your roommates' food. They won't mind, and even if they do, what are they going to do about it? Divorce you? They can't, because you pay rent, and also you aren't married. They will just have to deal with it, or get a safe to put their food in. But good luck finding a refrigerated safe...bwahahaha...

I am confident that if you employ these five brilliant tips, you will probably not die.* You're welcome.

Love,

Lizzy ;)

*This statement has not been evaluated by the FDA.

For that matter, I don't guarantee that it's even a semblance of truth.

three things that are more fun than my homework

1. Poking my eyes out with a fork.
2. Horrendous calisthenic activity (push-ups, sit-ups, pull-ups, face-ups)
3. Cleaning up fecal matter, vomit, or other biological fluids.

Love,

Lizzy ;)

clahsses

me studying angrily

So. Here is the dealio yo.

MWF 9-9:50 AM French 321. This is where I go to pretend I speak French and typically fail. Occasionally, I'll also mess up some grammar and do something else stupid. My teacher is very sweet, though, so that's good.

TTh 9-9:50 AM Book of Mormon. I am in a Returned Missionary section, so mostly I am one of three girls and I feel very dumb, but that is okay. It is a good class, and I like it better than Freshman BoM, so...yep.

Then I work for an interminably long time transcribing classes that are far too difficult in order to make the money necessary for life.

TTh 12:05-1:20 PM Writing Religion. YAY A 30 PAGE RESEARCH PAPER!!! Not.

MWF 2-2:50 PM American Heritage. One word: ew. Two words: ew, and sleeping. I sleep through it a lot. Or always. This is way more than one word.

MW 4:30-6:20 PM Stats. Weirdly, this is one of my favorite classes. There is something seriously wrong with me, and also my teacher, who frequently pulls fish sticks out of his shorts pockets and eats them. He is also violently opposed to pants.

I also have two lab meetings in there for research. I have 18 credits. WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME. I don't know. If I knew I would tell you. But it's okay. Not great, but okay.

Love,

Lizzy ;)

moar houz pitchers

Here are some more pictures of my nouveau residence!

The outside of the house...isn't it adorable?

I'm rooming with two friends that go back way to high school. As you can see, my roommates are still working on the whole moving in thing.


Here's my corner! I heart it with all my heart heart.

Love,
Lizzy :)

new house!

And I say "house," not "apartment" because while 5 female BYU students live here, it is technically the back half of a little old house.

Yes, I am sitting on a bed full of random things and eating canned fruit and I'm so tired I wrote "cannoed" instead of "canned" and then pictured fruit canoeing, but still. Look! ALL of my stuff is out of boxes. And the trash is in the trash box and the boxes are folded up, and stuff has been shoved random places and called good.

I am pretty excited about it.

Love,
Lizzy :D

sealy ack!

Things Lizzy Hearts:

• Knowing I have Celiac disease. Yes, the diet can be somewhat difficult, but I've never before been able to go a day without having the worst stomachache of my life. Last year, I missed classes constantly because I was so ill. Celiac can cause all kinds of problems--chronic fatigue, a shutdown of the immune system (hello, mono, swine flu, regular flu), etc. Now that I'm off gluten that's all gone!! And I can't tell you how nice digestion feels. That sounds disgusting, but I'm totally serious. This is the best thing ever.
• Listening to iTunes U lectures on my iPod while cleaning. I've never enjoyed cleaning a bathroom before, but then I started learning while cleaning! Check out iTunes U, it's awesome.
• Rice pudding.
  
• iTunes Yoga podcasts. Tara Stiles is what I'm currently watching. It's like a workout DVD, only free and there are a million episodes to choose from and there are always new ones growing there like on some kind of freaky yoga podcast tree!!!
• Having everything packed up and ready to go to move in to my new apartment!
• My beautiful, lovely, awesometastic friends and families. I love you.
• Knowing that no matter how low things seem sometimes, it always gets better. It always works out. I believe in my God and my Gospel, and that somehow makes everything okay...even when it isn't.

Love,
Lizzy ;)

PS-Told you I'd come back positive ;)

my life: the bad and the ugly

Today has been...interesting.

It started off okay. I went for a run (I'm training for a 5K and working up to a triathlon, though I was temporarily derailed by injury). I got a fairly good haircut at Paul Mitchell The School.

Then things went downhill. The desk I've spent the past two weeks, countless hours, and a great deal of emotional energy on was ruined in the rain, then sort of repaired by my mom and stepdad, turned out to be interdit (not allowed, the French word is just way better) in my new apartment. As Clad would say: Suck. After finding out this not-so-happy news, I then accidentally stepped on my precious notebook. I heard a telltale crack, and found a mark in the screen as though I'd shot it with an invisible bullet that hadn't broken the plastic, but rather the actual LCD of the computer.

After calling around, it will only cost $100 to fix. However, this whole machine cost me $300. So $100=crap. Suck. Negative emotions.

Keep in mind, this is after finding out that BYU plans on keeping all my scholarship money and grants until at least the 27th, even though my first and last month's rent, utility bill, and parking permit (a total of $730) is due on the 25th (in two days). Also I have to fix my computer. And school starts the 30th.

And oh, wait, I have Celiac disease. Good bye bread, cookies, cake, and basically all food always.

I have not actually cried, but I definitely want to. I feel like my life is a facsimile of a sham, and I haven't got a thing funny to say about it.

I will come back and be positive later. Right now, life just sucks.

Love,
Lizzy.

yet another reason i am not normal

Most people need their full brain capacities to function. It's like in Karate Kid, where he has to focus to do well.

As I'm sure you've discovered, I am not "most people," no matter how hard I try to be. When I focus, terrible things happen. Random anxieties take over my brain. I'm paralyzed and unable to do anything. Life becomes a vortex of fear and...fear.

Instead, in order to function like a real human, I have to make sure I never use more than half my brain capacity. Whether I'm driving, dancing, or taking a test, I must be certain I am never focusing, because otherwise everything goes down in flames.

So I listen to music. A LOT. This is a perfect distraction and as long as I try very hard to listen to the words of every song, I usually can drive without dissolving into tears because I'm not absolutely positive that I'm not too close to one line or the other.

This is not a perfect distraction because today's radio plays two things: religious music and horrifically morally unsound music. Thus, I am forced to listen to either, "Hallelujah, I serve my King," (not kidding, sadly), or "in my head, I see you all over me, in my head, you fulfill my fantasy." Obviously I chose a tame one because this blog is PG, but they get far worse than that.

So, I've decided to install a special kind of hearing aid into my head that plays various nature sounds at high volume and random intervals throughout the day. Not nature sounds like "ocean waves crashing" or any of that stuff. Nature sounds like, "super annoying seals barking loudly at random intervals."

You, too, can live your life at half capacity! Call today for the free Non-Religion-Related-or-Immoral Brain Distractor! If you call now, we'll send in a live seal free of charge!

But wait! There's more! Call now to receive not just your Brain Distractor and your live seal, but also seventeen real oceans! There will never be a deal as good as this. Call today to start living your life halfway.

Love,

Lizzy

paper.

So guys. I am for realsies writing this paper for publication.

How on the friggin earth did I get myself into this?

Right now I am sitting in a windowless lab...wait, I lied. There's a window. It's right in front of my face. Haang on, that's impossible. We're in a basement and there is an office on the side of that wall the window is on.

....

You guys. The window is actually a mirror. They stuck a mirror in the wall and made it look exactly like a window and then they actually hung up sad, beige "curtains" that look suspiciously like berber carpet.

They actually built a completely implausible fake window in here.

Who am I, and why am I unable to just not either attempt to overachieve or stop caring about everything entirely? I guess I can cut myself some slack. Some of my reasoning for staying ridiculously busy is because I desperately miss Clad. Let's be honest, it's kind of sucky when half your life goes to Japan.

Almost as sucky as fake and stupidly placed mirror/windows.

On to the figures section...

Love,

Lizzy ;)

lizzy hates thin.

That's right. I hate our cultural obsession with thinness. I think it is not only stupid, pointless, emotionally destructive, and physically harmful, but I actually believe it is downright evil.

Think about it. When's the last time you ate a doughnut without feeling guilty? Or drank -gasp- real (non-diet) Coke? Or had as many candy bars as you wanted?

There's plenty of scientific proof to back me up. I'm not going to go through and post it all because I'm already working on two other research papers, but once I'm done with my mood disorder prevalence and longitude study, I'm going to scientifically prove this to the world. For now, though, just use rational, clear-minded thinking.

Does it make sense to spend your entire life trying to lose weight? Does it make sense to make yourself miserable with constant dieting followed by the guilt of not dieting? Does it make sense to exercise compulsively every single day or to feel guilty for not doing so? Would you like to continue living a life where you "really shouldn't" eat what you love? Does it make sense to regard food as an enemy rather than fuel for your body? Would you attempt to shove a size 8 foot into a size 6 shoe? So why would you try to do that to your body? Is thin really worth it? Does thinness really equal happiness? Is there no more to life than the way you look?

You guys, I'm giving you a challenge. I want you to eat whatever you want. ANYTHING. As much of it as you like. For an entire month. That's right. August is Free Eating Month. If you want to eat an entire cheesecake, you go girl. If you want to eat seventeen bowls of pasta, awesome. Just do it.

There's only one condition: you have to actually enjoy eating it. As soon as your body and mind are no longer enjoying eating your cheesecake or your pasta, just stop. There is no pressure to finish.

That's it. That's your diet. Eat what you want, as much of it as you want, when you want it. Yes, you can eat after 6 pm. Yes, you can choose to eat only Hershey bars for a week.

If you don't feel safe doing this, well, you probably never will. But test the following reading material (all of which is backed up by science--trust me, I'm a research analyst--and is stuff I have myself read.)

Please, for once in your life, ignore all the crap the media and our culture is telling you, and just live your life.

and for the record, the last time I did this, i lost 10 pounds and kept it off for months--until i freaked out and started dieting again. you do the math.

Reading Material: Intuitive Eating; Why Exercise Won't Make You Thin; Love Your Body, Love Your Life.

The Computer Gods

So I currently somehow got myself involved in two research studies, both involving statistical analysis. I don't really know what I was thinking. I blame some new medication that makes me feel really weird and randomly fall over. The thing is, though, I've never actually taken statistics. Or any math. Since college algebra/trig my junior year of high school.

Because they are maybe high or really really hungover, my professors don't seem to mind that I know nothing about statistics. They will calmly ask me if I can "run a regression analysis on the GDP and MDP. Actually, run a regression analysis for all the data. And have it to me by Friday." And, because I am maybe high or really really hungover, I go, "Okay."

Which leads me to my point: The Computer Gods. Stats has some cool programs that do things like regression analysis for you, even if you have no idea what is going on. The problem is that you have to input random letters and numbers and symbols in order to make the program give you some incomprehensible data that you bring to your professor and pretend you know what it means.

Here is a typical conversation between me and The Computer Gods:

Me: I need a P value. What the heck is a P value. I don't know. Well, look, some code off the internet. Let's see what it does.

Input: [pnorm]

Computer Gods: ERROR!! ERROR!! YOU MADE AN ERROR! HEY LOOK YOU MADE AN ERROR!!!!

Me: I'm sorry! Okay, okay. Look, some more random code.

Input: [pnorm-1(2.19)

Computer Gods: ad;lfjeawo;i5u349020932 refl;aksdj standard+** F2 elr3 x = 23. 15 % 3#@) N.

Me: Copy. Paste. Okay.

Love,

Lizzy

lizzy's love affair with stayfocused

how i feel when i attempt to do homework

Did you know that sometimes I hate homework so much I want to kill it with fire? You think I am exaggerating, but I assure you I am not. When I sit down to do homework, my blood turns into burning and becomes intent on destroying everything in the world. This is somewhat problematic. After attempting to do my homework for about six minutes, I become a rage-filled war machine. I have thoughts of burning down my school, becoming a sniper, or taking up pickpocketing, all to avoid having to complete college. You can imagine this is quite depressing, so naturally I get into bed and watch six episodes of House, M.D. in pitch blackness eating anything covered in chocolate and with no nutritional value and then it is 3 am and I still haven't done any of my homework and all of it is due in 4 hours and I am back to never getting a degree and pickpocketing.

This is also when my procrastination cycle kicks in, except it is all, "Who cares about steps one and two?!! I hate steps one and two!! I am going to skip directly to step 3 and make that last as long as steps one two and three combined!!!!!"

Thanks to being a robot of doom every time I try to do homework, I have watched every episode of every season of The Office, Gilmore Girls, and 30 Rock. Actually, I have seen every episode of every season of Gilmore Girls and The Office three times now. And some 30 Rock episodes twice.

Because I am brilliant and there is clearly some glitch in the space/time continuum, I have so far managed to get away with almost never doing my homework. But one day I realized how SHOCKINGLY GENUIS-Y I could become if I actually DID my homework.

This is not a small feat to accomplish. How does one defeat becoming a rage-filled war machine from the inside?

Naturally, my first thought was, "Let's install something new on the computer!" That is where I met StayFocused. If you have the internet browser Google Chrome, you can install mysterious things called "gadgets" that do stuff to your computer like tell you when you get an email or predict your death. You can also install something called StayFocused. StayFocused is like your mother, if you mother is an all-knowing robot controlled by computer programming. You can type in websites where you waste time and set a time limit on them, and when your time is up, it will kick you off. For the entire day. You can bypass StayFocused, but it requires thought and work and if you are the type of person that needs to install StayFocused, you know you won't do work to try to avoid work. That is clearly counter-counter-productive.

I installed StayFocused and put an hour per day time limit on three sites: Facebook, Blogger, and housemdvideos.com. "Now I will HAVE to do my homework out of sheer boredom!" I thought.

StayFocused has kicked me off of all three sites today and I still haven't started my homework. I am actually resorting to writing this blog offline to avoid doing my homework.

I'm still underage as far as owning handguns…how hard do you think pickpocketing really is?

Love,

Lizzy

the ultimate anti-creepster technique

Have creepsters got you down? Are you tired of being hit on at the grocery store, the Cougareat, the creamery, Walmart, on the street, and basically everywhere you go? Do you feel like a magnet for balding men with a shockingly blatant lack of shame?

If you answered "yes" to any of the above questions, you probably think you've tried everything to get rid of creepsters. From the really intimidating blank stare to hiding behind the Country Time display, you have tried and failed over and over again when accosted by strangers with creepy smiles and sad pickup lines. You've probably wished disfigurement was something you could take on and off at will, because maybe that would deter this lineup of potential rapists...or worse, computer science majors*.

I HAVE THE ANSWER!

I give you...the raptor impression!! If you act exactly like a velociraptor, which by the way is a word not recognized by my computer's dictionary and that shows how scary it is, no creepster will dare come near you.

You are welcome.

Love,

Lizzy

PS: You do have to act exactly like a raptor. This includes sound effects and lunge-walking, and a facial expression that could break glass (be careful around office buildings.)

*I do not mean any offense to computer science majors. You are all fabulous people I am sure. I am just making fun of you because let's face it, you basically make yourselves targets for mocking. I'm sorry, that's just the way the world works.

loser?

No one ever comments on my blog anymore.

Love,
Lizzy ;)

correlation between diabetic cats and Norwegian schizophrenia patients aged 19-28 in 1927

this is a diabetic cat.

Did you like my title? I bet you think I'm kidding. No, that's what scientific journal articles are really like. I think that when researchers write titles, they have a special game called "how many ridiculously specific words can we put into one title that are extremely descriptive but render the entire article completely worthless because they are so specific before people completely forget what we were writing about in the first place and thus don't even start reading our article?"

Yes, the title of the game is an example of the game itself.

I don't know if this is a real game, that's just my theory. But I think I will find out whether it's real, because guess what, I'm a research assistant. I know, I know, at 20 years old I, too, can live in a dimly lit hovel in front of a computer doing correlation studies and DNA analysis.

Currently, I'm working with BYU's neuroscience chair on an ecological correlation study connecting infant mortality rates to schizophrenia prevalence and incidence worldwide. No, I'm not kidding. That's really what I'm researching, among other things.

You know, I don't think I'm ever going to be normal, even with serious psychiatric treatment. But I might publish a paper on a completely pointless study!

Love,
Lizzy :)

i dream of...allie's dog?

Last night I dreamed about Allie Brosh of hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com. Specifically, her dog.

I dreamt about a blog.

A blog about a dog.

Love,

Lizzy ;)

deep down inside, i don't think people are evil.

note: this image was taken from abundancetapestry.com

Do you know that feeling when you're just having a truly terrible day? You end up doing things like wandering around Wal-Mart and buying ten packages of no-fridge-needed pudding. Or staring at walls super intensely.

And then sometimes, people are truly just good.

They let you go first at a stop sign, even though really, it's their turn, and you both know it.

They smile.

They let you borrow money, so that your stomach will stop making an ulcer.

They write on your wall on Facebook and adorably refer to themselves in third person.

They tell you they love you.

They pick up the pen you dropped.

They see you from inside a store as you walk by and quickly hold a sign against the window that says, "You're pretty."

What's embarrassing is, when a random stranger does one of these things, it suddenly makes you become absolutely overwhelmed with emotion. The fact that someone out there cares, even just the tiniest bit, suddenly turns your horrible day around. You are left standing there, in tears, just because someone was kind. Someone cared. Someone smiled.

So smile, okay? Because just maybe, you're making someone else's life suddenly worth living again. :)

Love,

Lizzy ;)

lizzy's brain fights itself on another pointless issue

Look! Another internal monologue!

To Work Out More or Not to Work Out More, that is the question...

I already ran for an hour today. Should I work out again? I feel like I should work out again. I am all jittery and anxious because what if I get fat because I didn't work out enough? But what if I'm just being compulsive? Then I should rebel against my compulsion so that it doesn't get to be all compulsive-y. But what if I am being compulsive about not being compulsive? WHAT IF THE WORLD IS AN ENDLESS VORTEX OF COMPULSION ABOUT COMPULSION???

Also, I have to be, like, awake by 11:30 am tomorrow, and for some reason this fills me with intense and crippling fear because WHAT IF I DON'T HAVE ENOUGH TIME TO WORK OUT BEFORE THAT?? Also it just fills me with fear for absolutely no reason except that being responsible for anything before about 10 pm fills me with fear. Actually, just being responsible for anything ever fills me with terror. It's like I can't comprehend possibly being able to accomplish anything and so anytime I tell someone I will accomplish something, it becomes an internal war zone where I try to accomplish the thing while living in almost paralyzing anxiety about not being able to accomplish the thing. It's even worse if there are 2 things, and I don't even want to think about 3 things. Now I'm thinking about 3 things. Oh no.

Also my phone keeps being like, "YOU HAVE A NEW MESSAGE!!!! ANSWER IT!!! NOW YOU HAVE 2!! NOW YOU HAVE 4!! NOW YOU HAVE 25!!" at the same time that my email is like:

1 NEW MESSAGE.

2 NEW MESSAGES.

9 NEW MESSAGES.

359 NEW MESSAGES.

1 BILLION NEW MESSAGES.

SO MANY MESSAGES YOU WILL NEVER EVER BE ABLE TO ANSWER THEM ALL AND THUS WILL IMMEDIATELY FAIL AT LIFE.

:)

Love,

Lizzy ;)

beer garden

I began my very first hostel experience today at 2 am.

The story of how it came to be 2 am when our plane arrived at 8:30 pm is a joke in and of itself, so we'll just say that we walked for a really, really ridiculously long time and I'm not sure how my arm managed to remain attached to my body for the 5.5 hours in which I dragged 75 pounds of luggage up and down stairs, in and out of buses, in and out of a train, in and out of the metro, and across broken beer bottles (and beer bottles that become broken) on a scary, scary street. Also, my Swiss Army Knife once again came in handy. I became some sort of secret ninja warrior and carried it pointing straight out in front of me the whole way. When cars slowed down, I actually baton twirled my Swiss Army Knife with my fingers. This in and of itself seems like a bad plan, but trust me, in perspective with my plan that included deciding to navigate an unfamiliar bus/train/Metro system in a country I've never been to before, with a dominant language I don't speak a word of, at night...

I am more awesome than words can ever describe.

Somehow, we actually arrived at picturesque "Tiber Camping Village." The first thing I saw was a sign that said "CEILING BEING RENEWED!!" in large, urgent letters beneath something in Italian that had more i's and z's than seems necessary in any situation. It was confusing because as far as I know the sky doesn't have a ceiling, and how do you even renew a ceiling in the first place? This sign was posted in random places every few feet along the pathway. I became actually quite taken with it. It was my friend that said, "There is an Italian hostel with people that sort of speak English (kind of) soon (maybe) in this general direction."

Tiber Camping Village is right by the Tiber River in Italy. I think when people were building Tiber Village, they basically were like, "Let's put every type of thing that humans can inhabit possible in this area!" So they put tents and trailers and motor home hookups and little trailer-like things you can rent and female dorms and men's dorms and mixed dorms and shared rooms and possibly a single private room. This makes for a strange conglomerate of extremely courageous and foolish families, really old and clinically insane people, and drunk twenty-somethings.

Still, I am a fan of Tiber Village because it includes a bed, and I can't tell you how concerned I was that we were going to have to go and sleep in some bushes last night. Although I should mention that this bed is a bunk bed above another bunk bed and beside another bunk bed, which is beside a wall that emits a persistent, unending, and irregular sound like rusty robots fighting. They never quite manage to kill each other, though. Every few minutes there is a silence that makes me think the sound is finally over, but then it starts up again. I think it is actually louder when it starts again. It's like the rusty robots are mocking me in my attempts to sleep.

I'm especially happy that Tiber Village has a small and exorbitantly priced market from which you can buy food, hot showers, and the internet.

Tiber Roma has a few perks that I couldn't even have thought up to ask for, however. The first of these is a "beer garden." If I was having some sort of acid trip/dream in which I was somehow imagining a "beer garden," I would imagine trees and bushes that grew beer. I know this is irrational, but what on earth is a beer garden? I will tell you. It is a bunch of picnic tables in a wilderness that includes nature's many wonders like mosquitoes, flies, fire ants and man-eating venus Flytraps (just kidding) in which people drink beer. A lot of beer. I don't think they ever stop drinking beer, actually; I'm rather concerned about alcohol overdose. There's a man lying here who has been here since yesterday and I don't think he's moved. Someone once tried to check his pulse, but they were pretty drunk so I don't know if their reading was accurate. I was going to, but I don't want to touch him because I have a phobia of getting AIDS. Even though I don't do anything that could possibly give me AIDS.

Anyways. So as my first hostel experience, I think that Tiber Roma is exactly as....unique as everyone says. Except for the maybe dead guy. I think he makes it even more unique.

This week is going to be fun.

Love,
Lizzy ;)

PASTA

So I really, really, really like sugar. France has a really, really, really lot of readily available sugar in millions of delicious forms. Can you tell where this is going? I assure you, you are wrong.

Well, at first you're probably right. I have been eating A LOT of sugar and fat here. And I gained weight, because the world is stupid like that. This is very uncool, so I was like, "I should probably stop eating so much sugar and fat." Naturally, that wasn't enough, because I'm me. I needed to make a documented plan in writing to accomplish this. I'm exercising plenty, so I decided the best plan was very simple: Eat Less.

I started counting calories, and set a daily calorie allowance. This allowance was reasonable and healthy, but it did require me to cut down the calories I eat on a daily basis by a considerable amount. I've done this many times in the past, and usually it is not particularly dramatic/does not involve caveman behavior. The key word here is "usually."

My brain apparently now rebels against cutting calories. I've been rather mean to my body and been like "NO CALORIES EVERR!!!" several times, and so it was like, "NO" when I said we should cut calories again. My body is quite sure that cutting calories=starvation=death. So as the days went on and I kept this calorie deficit running, I started to get hungrier and hungrier.

Today I was starving all day. I was starving for hours and hours. I distracted myself with exercise, which made me even more starving (it seemed like a good plan in my hypoglycemic mind). I just needed to hold out until dinner...maybe I'd drink the ocean...saltwater is really nasty and I think I just swallowed a plastic bag...but there, now I wasn't so hungry anymore...why was the world glowing?...Istanbul...monkeys...

Eventually, it was FINALLY dinner time. We were having pasta.

Emily took the spaghetti noodles off the stove and told me to get my pasta out of it. This is where everything got kind of intense. I saw the pasta. My brain was like, "YOU NEED TO EAT THAT PASTA RIGHT FREAKING NOW." I was like, "Okay, chill, I'm going to put some cheese on it." My brain was like, "NO. EAT THE PASTA. EAT IT!!!! EAT IT NOW!!!!! OMG YOU NEED TO EAT THE PASTA!!!!!!"

Now, if your brain was doing this to you, you'd just give in and eat the pasta too. So I just started eating the pasta. The plain pasta. With my hands. My roommates hadn't even gotten it out of the pot yet. Luckily I'd somehow gotten the pasta in a bowl (I have no memory of this), because shortly after that, I ate so vigorously that the pasta somehow slid out of the bowl and onto the ground. This was probably because I was sort of swallowing the pasta (to bypass chewing, that obviously takes too long) while walking down stairs. I know this sounds like a fun challenge, but before you go try it, you should know that it has significant downsides.

My brain, crazed by hunger, started screaming, "IT DOESN'T MATTER!! PICK IT UP OFF THE GROUND! EAT IT WITH YOUR HANDS! EAT THE PASTA! EAT THE PASTA! EAT THE PASTA!!!!"

My life wasn't in danger, but you wouldn't have known that from the way I ate that pasta. I picked it up off the very dirty ground and, fully aware my previously plain pasta was now seasoned with Dirt and Soil Mix, started shoving the pasta into my mouth. My roommates stared at me like I was some sort of wild animal. I was some sort of wild animal. A deranged one. Possibly a deranged wildebeest that has been fed only silicon memory chips for seventeen weeks and then been injected with speed. And then been given pasta.

After several mouthfuls (mmm..crunchy dirt flavor), I managed to put the pasta back into the bowl long enough to try to put cheese on it. This was a bad plan because my brain was really, really, really fixated on eating the pasta. There was never anything as important as eating the pasta was at that moment. My entire existence was dependent on eating the pasta. And eating the pasta RIGHT FREAKING NOW. You think I am exaggerating. I assure you, I am not.

I ended up sort of shoving the cheese around in the dirty pasta with my hands because I couldn't be bothered to get a fork and then continuing to down the pasta like I hadn't eaten in several years and pasta was the most amazing food known to man.

I finished the dirty pasta. I'm still under my calorie limit.

And I'm still hungry.

TO BE CONTINUED....

Love,
Lizzy ;)

PS-Yeah, back earlier than expected...but don't expect any sort of regularity, I'm very busy and only get the internet in one inconveniently-located room here in the French Riviera and may end up eating my computer. Is plastic low in calories? But when I get back to the U.S., I promise I will have many great posts because you guys, this is like the craziest adventure ever. It even beats the one time when the break pads turned into eggs and rotted.

DON'T PANIC!

panic! at the disco. photo unrelated to this post. but a good band.

Hello, all two to three people who read this blog.

I am the kind of person that cares about individuals, so I'm going to give you some difficult news. Sit down. Get a drink. And whatever you do, don't panic.

I am going to be gone for the next 3 weeks.

Okay, there. It's out. Are you okay? STAY WITH ME! IT'S GOING TO BE ALL RIGHT! TAKE OFF ALL YOUR CLOTHES AND PUT YOUR FEET UP! (this is what I learned you should do when someone is going into shock. Thank you, Girl's Camp.)

I'm going to be driving around in a giant bus (I'm not driving, sorry, I hope you didn't go into shock again. A bus driver will be driving. Or maybe the bus will drive itself; that would be cool. But probably a human will be driving the bus. A human that is not me. Do you understand now? Good.) to see the countryside of Western France, and then I'll be in Nice for a week, and then in Rome for another week. So I think internet access will be spotty at best until I return to the Etats-Unis on June 21.

Hang in there. I've got some great ideas saved up for you for when I get back!

Love,

Lizzy

Dear Grocery Store: I Hate You. Here's Why.

Dear Grocery Store,

In case you didn't know, I have paralyzing social anxiety (see Grocery Store pro/con list). This means that I usually live in my room, terrified to venture outside to talk to people or purchase vital substances like jewelry and sometimes food. People that know me in real life will probably be surprised to read this. "But you're so outgoing!" they'll say. They clearly have never been to a grocery store with me. I avoid visiting the same store twice because getting to know the cashiers means they will notice what I am buying. Then buying tampons will be awkward, and they will look down on me for needing 3 bags of chocolate covered marshmallow koala bears and a 6-pack of diet Coke on a daily basis.

It is even worse when I live in France, a country full of spite and hatred. Is French not your first language? You are clearly an idiot!! How did your two-week old brain NOT know that it needed to learn French rather than the language everyone around you was speaking?!

Today I succumbed to near-starvation and went to the grocery store to buy a sick-pack of diet Coke and some bread and cheese (I bought the koala bears yesterday, and I happen to know all 4 cashiers AND the manager, so I had to switch it up before they started refusing to support my sugar habit). It was all going fine until I got in line. The guy in front of me mumbled something French. I laughed "knowingly," because 90% of the time that gets me out of trying to understand whatever it was they said.

Of course, the other 10% of the time, the person stares at me blankly like I am high or possibly a sociopath because what they said was, "I'm homeless and my grandmother just died and I'm a persecuted minority in my country and I have a severe life-threatening medical condition that you are personally responsible for." And there I am giggling quietly while becoming suddenly fascinated by an invisible, but clearly enthralling, thing that is the opposite direction of their face.

This particular incident was part of that 10%, because my laughter did not satisfy the man. So I had to ask for clarification twice, but thankfully there were no R's in the sentences I used to say, "Sorry, I couldn't hear you." So he didn't know I didn't speak French natively!! I was winning!! Eventually I got that he'd said, "You have beautiful eyes." "Thank you," I said, as quietly as possible, because that DOES have an R in it. "You don't have to thank me, it's just a fact," the man said creepily. I giggled idiotically some more to avoid having to respond.

The man finished paying for his Red Bull and said, "Au revoir!" "Auvoir," I mumbled rapidly. The man looked surprised and laughed. "Ohvwah!" he mimicked my accent, "I like it. What country are you from?" "The United States," I said, as though admitting I was a Nazi in a past life. Admittance of American nationality is in and of itself is grounds for lifelong hatred, you know. I ended up having to repeat it several times until I was shouting, "ETATS-UNIS!!!" at alarming volume. "But I'm not American!" I joked in French, attempting to redeem myself.

Things get hazy here because I'm not exactly sure what happened. I think the cash register thought this was funny and started going along with my joke, saying, "It's not like that! Haha." The man was laughing too. But really I don't know if they were laughing AT me or WITH me, so I said, "You French, you're all mean," hoping this would either A. Make me look cool for understanding I was being mocked, or B. Sound like a joke because I understood they were joking with me.

I haven't the slightest idea whether I in any way succeeded, but I walked home feeling like a complete idiot and my cheese tasted like garlic and failure.

And this, grocery store, is why I hate you. Please find a new way to provide me with diet Coke and glucose.

Thanks,

Lizzy ;)