When I grow up I want to be an Atomic Bomb.

Rue says No.

One of the “great” things that my grandpa, Rue, has gotten to experience since I moved in with him is all of my so-called dates that I go on.
I may have mentioned before, or at least thought about mentioning it, that any date I go on is either ridiculously bad or just okay.
There is never a good date and there is never really a second date.
And after each experience with a male, I come home or I come to Rue and tell him about what has happened, because we are best friends. (Whether he wants to admit it or not.)
These experiences usually get the same sort of response from Rue:

Man, times have sure changed since I was younger.

Now, maybe it’s social pressure, but I feel it’s important to point out when discussing dating and someone advocating for me in the dating scene that Rue does not think I am terribly physically attractive.
In fact, no one in my family thinks I’m crazy physically attractive except for me.
I can’t stop taking selfies of myself.


But since the bulk of what it seems men look for in a woman is physical appearance, I feel it important to mention that my advocates are not advocating for me in that area.

One thing about Rue’s feelings towards my dating experience is that I am too nice.
He always is suggesting things that I should have done or said instead of what I actually did, because I am way too nice when on a date and take a longer time than he would to call someone out on the things they are doing.

Anyways, last night I had one of those moments with Rue and men that just made me smile to no end.
This was the extent of the conversation:

Me: So I wrote him a letter trying to be cute and he said ‘It was nice, but I was expecting it to be a joke.’
Rue: Did you say to him YOU’RE A JOKE!?

I was dying.
Not only because it was funny, but also because it’s just awesome to have such an advocate for me.
Also, I would call someone a joke when they bug me in any other situation other than a dating one, because I am trying to be nice.
(You can’t see me roll my eyes at myself)

But I wanted to write about this, because I want a record later on of the “advocation” and support I got from my grandfather.
And also how sassy and funny he was.

I have been reading a book on the history of Modern Psychology and the most recent chapter is about the anatomy of the human brain.
It started by discussing this painting.

Extracting the Stone of Madness by Hieronymus Bosch, ca. 1690

Extracting the Stone of Madness by Hieronymus Bosch, ca. 1690

The reason I like this picture is that there is so much going on that is completely relatable.
I mean, let’s start off with the hat that looks like the hats you wear to prevent aliens from reading your thoughts.
Or maybe this isn’t a hat so aliens can’t interfere with this process, maybe it’s one of his tools for all the things about to happen with this lobotomy.
Either way, any doctor I have ever been to was never this prepared and now I am curious what medical school they went to.

Second, there is the priest that is clearly trying to backseat drive this lobotomy.
Come on, man!
Look at the surety in the man performing the lobotomy’s face. This obviously isn’t his first rodeo and he does not need some Catholic dude telling him how this goes.

Also, since they have not actually penetrated the guys’ head yet, the look on his face tells me that they probably got him drunk before actually stating this process.
But not the fun kind of drunk, but drunk enough that he hates himself and doesn’t want to move.
That’s obvious from his face.

Finally, we have the nun that is looking on and obviously so bored with this process that she feels she needs to work on her posture while this whole situation is happening.

You want me to watch you drill into another guy’s head? Greaaaaat.
You don’t mind if I put this book here, right?

Good help is so damn hard to find.

Dear Utah

Okay, this is my second time living in Utah, which the place I live are usually a bit of a theme on my blog.
Well, I experienced this the last time I was living in Utah and didn’t really say anything, but now my second time around I am a little over it.
I have been here 3 months and I would just like to announce something to all the people collectively in Utah.

Dear People of Utah,

I do not want to go hiking. Really ever.
I hiked when I was at camp each summer of my teenage years. It was the worse.
One time I slipped down a mini mud slide and had to hold on to a branch so I didn’t fall off a cliff. That was ridiculous and I would never recommend it.
Another time they took a rope and tied it around all of us hiking to help us feel unity while we hiked.

I’m going to pass on commenting.
Utah has beautiful scenery, do not get me wrong. The Mountains here are ridiculous. That’s why they put National Parks here in Utah.
But the point is, I am living in St. George and it is a minimum of 105 degrees out almost everyday. I don’t even want to walk from a building to my car, let alone wander around in the wilderness.
But the main reason that I don’t want to go hiking is that I hate being hot and I hate being sweaty. For a lot of people, hiking brings enough benefits to where they are willing to ignore those aspects.
The return on investment (the investment being sweat and physical effort) is there for almost everyone in Utah.
It is not for me.

But I know what you are thinking, people of Utah, if I don’t like hiking, you have an alternative.
To quote a man’s dating profile that I saw this morning:

“Please like climbing. Please Please Please!”

Now, it’s not just men on online dating sites that are into climbing.
People from around the world apparently come to this area of Utah just to go climbing. I have met a few recently that traveled here just to climb and hike. (Again, the scenery is amazing.)
But if I were to make a list of things I don’t want to do ever or even consistently, climbing would be a few spots higher than hiking.
I tried repelling once and I cried the entire way down.
I can’t imagine going the other direction being any better, especially since I have absolutely no upper body strength.
I’m willing to work on the upper body strength, but not through climbing.
These all sound the worst to me.

I went ahead and looked up #Utah on Instagram and just to illustrate my point, this is what I got:

Quit trying to force your outdoor activities on me!
Also, do not look up this Hash Tag, you will get a lot of porn too.
But seriously, almost every photo was of the mountains or doing something outdoors or porn. And I am not into porn at all either. I felt guilty for even looking up the completely innocent hashtag I did after seeing that.
Any guy online or people you meet in person, what do they want to do? Go on a hike.
Go for a climb.
Murder me through the proxy of Nature.
How is that fair? Is there no one in this freaking state that wants to eat ice cream with me on a couch with a fan blowing on us?
We don’t even have to have ice cream.

Anyways, my letter to the People of Utah at this point in time is just to collectively let them know the following:

I don’t want to hike with you.
I don’t want to climb with you.
I am willing to camp or fish or even appreciate/stand in nature with you every once in a while, but not if we have to hike to get to the spot.
I just have no interest whatsoever in the hobbies the majority of you care about.
As I mentioned in the picture I made at the beginning of this post: Please understand that it’s not you, it’s definitely me…But I feel like I am right.
We are just different people and it has everything to do with my upbringing.

Anyways, obviously you aren’t very understanding of this, but I just wanted to make my position clear and announce it to all of you at once.

You can’t see me shrug.


It is my personal opinion that my posts I make in the middle of the night are some of my best
I just feel like anything I say during these times are very raw and slightly less censored. They have run studies and found out that 24 hours of sleep deprivation is the same as having a blood alcohol level of .10%.
I haven’t been up for 24 hours, but I am sure that staying up late is when you start gambling.

Anyways, tonight I just started to get a feeling of uneasiness. Like an eerie uneasiness of how much I didn’t what was going to happen next.
Just a sort of realization that I had no idea what was going on and I am not sure of anything.
I don’t even know what I want to eat tomorrow, which is super fun for me.
Maybe another hotdog, cause I am really into those lately and always.
But more importantly the big things I am unsure about as well since my life has been in a state of flux for the last little while.

I took a really late and rather weird nap this afternoon. I fell asleep at 6 pm and work up at 9:45 pm.
It was in this time of waking up that I was standing in the kitchen looking around feeling this eerie feeling.
Like something was supposed to happen or there was something that was going to happen and I just did not know what.
It was very much an out-of-body experience, but I am trying not to over think it, because that’s when my imagination takes hold and I start thinking fantastical things like:

Maybe this was the moment that everything changed.

It wasn’t, but I am a writer by nature and so my mind creates stories just to make things seem more interesting.
My life is not that interesting and my eerie feelings are not that deep at all.
But it was a feeling that you don’t get every day. Very much an out-of-body experience (repeating myself) and I think not knowing what is going to come next just added to that eerie feeling.

Rulon, my grandfather, ruins my sleep schedule like no other. The only reason I am up this late or taking weird naps is that I have found even if I don’t take a nap, I will end up staying up late with him.
So, I take a nap, which makes me stay up even later.
It’s a vicious cycle.
Tonight it was that we were watching Quentin Tarantino movies, not my favorite. Now I am sitting on one couch writing this while he decides which Hallmark movies he wants to TiVo. I will then read scriptures to him before we go to bed.
We don’t even do anything exciting when we stay up late, we just stay up late.

Anyways, my weird sleeping schedule has nothing to do with me getting these eerie feelings.
There is no way that my lack of sleep could leave me weirded out suddenly in any way, shape, or form.

Late Pic 8/13/16

I have teenage siblings. Super accidents, but everyone likes them.
A classic example of learning to live with your mistakes.
But they don’t really talk to me. In fact, most of my siblings do not talk to me very much at all.
Middle child syndrome is actually something that seems to take place in my life more than I would have originally admitted when I was first told about it.
But there have been a couple of times where I was going to give advice or something to them and they weren’t very interested.
The reason behind this, is that I am not very “cool” and this is what makes a source credible to teenagers.
Like out of all my siblings, I am just the most neutral when it comes to that area.
I have an older brother, who when he walks in the room, you can just immediately

Normally this does not matter, because I have been successful despite the fact that no one liked me in high school.
But now I am actually living in a small, college town and the last few weeks when I have been at church, it was like being in a high school again.
In fact, a lot of the time when I am at these activities, I feel like an alien (and not in a good way). Probably because I am surrounded by that teenage mentality.
There is a feeling that you get when you are around a bunch of people trying to impress the each other. There have been a few times that I was talking to someone and they were looking around at other people rather than focusing on me.
Or you may be having a serious discussion, which happens a lot at church, and then a few of them have to very loudly make jokes out of the conversation to try get everyone laughing in the middle of the serious conversation.
It derails it.
And even me complaining about that makes me un-cool.

Anyways, I don’t feel that it is being insecure or down on myself when I say that I don’t really have a lot to offer in this instance.
The best way I can describe it is similar to when someone recently talked to me about applying for a management position at a gym.
Though I have management experience, I have never worked in a gym and don’t much about them, so I do not have a lot to offer an employer looking for that position, because though I have good qualities, I do not have those good qualities.
The same can be said in these situations with teenagers (or those with a teenage mentality). Teenagers and college kids are looking for someone who is cool to be their friend/date/be in the same room as them. They want someone who can impress the other teenagers when they walk in the room with them.
I know what someone with “cool” qualities looks like and though I am fun and smart and have a lot to offer as a friend, I am not cool.

Because this has been on my mind a lot, I decided to ask one of my closest friends if I am cool.
Keep in mind that she is a woman in her 50s, which again shows how much teenagers and I understand each other.
But this was her response:

“The word that comes to mind more for you is “hip”. You are comfortable in your own skin most of the time.”

Like these young kinds.
(You can’t see my huge smile at this.)

But even though I loved that response, I decided to take it a step further and ask my mother if I am cool.
Now, most people make jokes about how “My Mom thinks I am cool” or “My Mom thinks I am handsome” because most mothers will always say that about their kids.
My mother is one that you can always tell when she is trying to not hurt your feelings, but also doesn’t want to lie.
So, when I asked my mother if I am cool, her response was:

“I don’t know….Uh, I thought you didn’t care about that?”

I still laugh just thinking about it.
I asked my mom if I am cool and she said I don’t know.
And I am her best friend even!
If there was ever a bigger testament that even though I am happy with who I am, I will never be popular in a high school, it’s that even my mother does not think of me as cool.

Killing it.

(Trying to be Cool by Phoenix. You can listen to it here.)


So, I have a sense of humor that is a little bit…different.
It’s very dry and often times very dark.
It does not include toilet humor in any sense.

Anyways, I have moved again as everyone knows who have read my blog the last little bit. In with my grandfather.
This means that I have gotten a new job and this time around I was more looking for something that could fit the schedule of helping him and not just something that fit what I am used to working in.

So, I just barely started at this company a few weeks ago and they are very closely knit and casual.
They have a lot of inside jokes.
And I have made the mistake in the past before of walking into a job that I am new at and acting like I have always been there. I have the confidence to do that and I am rarely uncomfortable in situations, but in the past that approach at new jobs alienated coworkers and made me appear cocky.
Go figure.
Anyways, at this particular company, I have been told to interact more with the group since I was very reserved when I first came to the company.

So, today they put a Birthday card on my desk to sign.
Maybe I am just weird, but I have only had one conversation with the person that this Birthday card is for.
I didn’t know what to sign it.
I kind of pushed it away a little bit and one of the ladies at my work who really likes me and really likes to have everyone included told me that I needed to sign it.
It was important, apparently.
But I have never known anyone that really read a corporate card and gone through the different messages people have written.
I know that I never have. Even the card a company got me when I moved for them and everyone signed it.

So, I sat for a while thinking about what I could put that I would find funny if I opened up the card and saw it.
And I suppose that maybe it was a little passive aggressiveness on my part as well, because I didn’t see why they needed me to sign the card, but this is what I ended up signing:

Card Sign

I thought I was so hilarious and I still think I am.
Nothing was ever said, probably since the person never read the card, but I just thought I would share since I think that Birthday cards and cards in general can be very pointless when it comes from people they do not know well.
My favorite are the “Sorry for your loss” cards.
That will really make you feel better.

I’m probably just a brat.

The Old Man and I

I live with my grandfather.
I have made a few posts recently that have shown a little bit what our lives together is like. A lot of them show us being generally snarky to each other, which is pretty much the basis of all of our conversations.
My grandfather is very sarcastic and has a very dry sense of humor. He also likes to tease a lot, to the point that most of what comes out of his mouth is him teasing me.
Luckily I worked in automotive for the past year and if you are going to work in that industry, you have to roll with the punches. My old boss would introduce me at parties/meetings as the “Corporate Pain in the Ass”. He also told me once that I would probably never find love because of my personality.
And how did I respond to those comments?
You throw it back. Top it if you can.
And none of us ever got offended, because we knew that it was said in affection and jest. It wasn’t really meant to hurt the other person.
We also were in positions where we would have to do deal with people saying really mean things to us and so in a way it prepared us for the real deal.

Fast forward to living with my grandfather, who I didn’t really know very well when I was younger.
He was around a lot of the time, but he didn’t really get on well with kids so it was hard to talk to him.
Today he tells me that he gets along better with “kids” in their twenties. I would agree (except about the kids part) since now he is a very easy person to talk to and he is very fun to banter with.
Well, here is an example of some of that banter that I posted on Instagram from last night:


So, he is in a wheelchair.
Not paralyzed, but just can’t use the right side of his body and I feel a lot of people look at that and immediately feel sorry for him.
They see him in his wheelchair, that he is 85 and immediately start to judge these sorts of interactions.
This post I made on Instagram got a response from my cousin commenting


I just rolled my eyes.
He is not a poor guy. When I got there to pick him up he said “About time you showed up”.
He was obviously super upset about the text.

But people don’t understand that sort of relationship I have found.
They will look at us shocked or even say something to me about it and he eats it up. A lot of times he will be smiling at me when they are saying something.

(Seen Here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vj_tlHqnWj0)

The “something nice” he said in that video was “Good For You” when I told him that I had gotten him a Pepsi from the store.
….Yeah, homeboy gives as good as he gets.
My aunt actually apologized to me that he is so “mean to me” a couple of weeks ago.
And yet, we are both fine.

Last night we went to Cafe Rio together and as we were leaving he told me to take our leftovers out to the car and he would roll himself out to the side-walk while I did it.
So, I was holding the door open for him and he was having trouble getting through the doorway.
This lady came running up to him asking him if he needed any help and he just kept trying to get through the doorway on his own without answering her.
She then looked at me as if I was going to answer for him.
I just said:

“He needs to learn to do it on his own.”

She gave me the most horrified look ever and then looked at me like I was the worst person in the world.
She missed him just rolling his eyes at me and then said “Well, I think you’re doing a great job.” to him.

I don’t expect everyone to understand the relationship that my grandfather and I have.
They see the snarky comments and the back and forth, but they don’t see the affection that happens between us, because it’s mostly through acts that happen when no one is around.
Like the other night he had an accident in his chair and I ended up cleaning it up and I couldn’t help but think that there was no way I didn’t love him when I was doing it.
Or the other night when I wasn’t feeling good and fell asleep on the couch, I woke up at 2 am to find him fixing the blanket on me.
He got embarrassed when he saw me awake and quickly said:

“It wasn’t fully covering your feet!”

And rolled away.
The same man who 5 hours earlier when I told him I still wasn’t feeling good told me:

“You know, we shoot sick horses.”

Just the kind of comment we both expected.

the old and I


I am sure I have talked about this before on my blog, but we actually don’t know the reason that we have dreams.
It’s an interesting process with the REM cycle and the sleep paralysis that happens, but they are not entirely sure what reason we have dreams.
One theory is that dreams our simulations by our subconscious to see how we would react to certain situation. It helps us prepare for survival in situations we may have not experienced yet.

Anyways, last night I had this dream where I was trying to run a 5k and my sister did not want me to. She told me that she was worried about me and I told her that she could just follow me in my car to make sure it worked out.
(But the 5k was on the beach? Not sure how it worked. Dream logic.)

Well, long story short, I did not end up finishing the 5k, because my car actually started to have problems. So, I told my sister that I would try driving it instead of finishing the race.
When I got in the car, it would not start and I could not figure out why the car would not work. After trying for a few minutes, I saw a light on my dash saying that the car was on fire.

I got out of the car and opened up the back (it’s a hatchback).
It wasn’t a raging fire, but specific areas that were on fire. I then attempted to blow on the flames in the trunk of my car and it actually worked.
I used my breath to put out the fire in the back of my car, but that was when I noticed that all of the tires were gone.
All that was left was the rims and the tires had been shredded off and my sister had been driving on the rims for the past while of following me.

It was then that I just sat down next to my car and my sister called my mother.
When my mother came, they were trying to discuss what they would do next and I was just sitting next to my car thinking about how it would work out. How I would take the bus to work until I had money for the new tires and whatever the cost would be to fix what caused the fire.

That was when I woke up.
I have no clue what this dreams means or what the test was. (Pretty sure I failed if my response to a fire is trying to blow it out.)
Or even what my subconscious was trying to tell me, but I felt like writing it down that my car caught on fire and all I do in a situation of losing my car was just sitting next to it.

Go Team.

Do you even lift, bro?

One of my favorite things about living with my grandfather is the simple moments I get to see everyday.The small things that you wouldn’t get to see unless you live with someone.

Today it was this moment:

I would never have seen that without living here. It’s one of those small things people do that you can appreciate and hope you remember. 

Mostly for the faces he made and how cute he is trying to build up his arm strength.

Dear Diary/Blog

I normally don’t address you as “diary”, but I thought I would change it up. In fact, addressing my blog as diary was what gave me enough push to post on here currently.
Maybe someone has noticed, but I haven’t posted on here in a minute and I have felt guilty about that.
I just haven’t had much to say until I got to call my blog diary?
I don’t keep a real diary. I have found in the past when I sit and talk about my days later on I would go back and tear pages out, because I would read it and think I sounded like an idiot.

“I’m in love with (past boy name) and he hasn’t responded to me in 48 hours.”

Who cares, Corrie? Not that boy and even 6 months later you don’t even care.

My blog has been exempt from that since on here I mostly talk about my feelings and perspective on the world or small instances that happen. There are no specifics and there is nothing to feel embarrassed about later on.
To date, I have only gone back and deleted or marked private about 3 posts, whereas, in past journals I have gone back and tore out half of the journal before finally throwing it away.
It turns out that my blog and spiritual journals are the only things I can write about in my personal life.

Anyways, it is hard to write on my blog when there really isn’t anything happening right now.
I mean, I moved in with my grandfather and got a job and that’s it.
Nothing else has really happened besides snarky conversations and a lot of Hallmark movies he watches while I sleep on the couch.
(The beauty of that sentence is you can’t tell which person is 85 and which one isn’t.)

However, I do find myself doing things that are different from what I normally would do by myself and if someone outside the situation asked, it seems like we are really busy.
Like my dad called my grandpa (his dad) tonight and asked what we were doing, the response was:

“We are taking apart this lamp to see what is wrong with it.”

It sounds like we are killing it and engineer/mechanics.
But in reality we were trying to change the bulb, so we unscrewed the stand and it looked like one of the wires had snapped. Then we took the whole thing apart and then threw it away.
We learned nothing.

Recently someone asked me how I was doing and I responded “fine” and they got all up in a knot about it.
But I am just fine. I’m not skipping down the road, but my shoulders aren’t slumped either.
Sometimes things are just fine and it’s not negative, it just is.

So, Diary/Blog, if any of you have something you would like me to talk about, please feel free to let me know.
But until then, I am still here.
Doing just fine.

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