Hummmm

I always wonder if I've already met the person I'm going to marry. Who knows.

Confession post.

I don't know why this is a confession post or what I am confessing to, but just go with it. Let it happen.

So let me just say this, I'm not an idiot. Sure, I have my dumb, clumsy moments. Sure, I've been asked more times than I can count if blonde is my natural hair color. Sure, I've hit a parked car. Sure, I make stupid, brain-dead mistakes. But I'm no dummy. I'm actually a very observant person. I catch on to things that people don't sometimes realize. I know when something of mine has been stolen from my room or if something is not where I left it. I'm pretty good at reading people. I hear bits and pieces of conversations from across the room. I notice things. Sure, I sometimes don't acknowledge or act on my observations, especially if it's not necessary. But I catch a lot more than I think I am sometimes given credit for.

That being said, the last couple years I haven't been oblivious to my body and lifestyle changes. I'm the most observant person when it comes to my body. There's not anything you can tell me about my body that I don't already know. I know I have no butt. I know I have big feet. I know I have alien fingers. I know I have a mole on my right ring finger knuckle. I know I run funny. I know I have two similarly shaped birthmarks on the back of each of my legs. I know I need to re-shape my eyebrows. I know my abs could use some work. I know I have extremely bony knees. I know all that. It's my body. I'm aware of it. Here's a little fact about me: I've always been sensitive about comments that are made toward my weight or body image. Comments about my body image, like my feet or my big nose, or whatever, don't really get to me, because those are things I can't really change. So I don't really care. But when someone makes a comment about something that I have complete control over (i.e. my weight, my unibrow, my mumbling voice, etc), I try to hide the sting a little, because it makes me feel like a failure a little bit. Granted, I laugh about how I used to be fat, because, let's be honest, I looked like an ogre. And I'm not sensitive to the point where I've contemplated an eating disorder, or even a diet (ha), but I've always struggled with how my body looks. I don't think I've ever been really satisfied with my body. Throughout my life my body shape or image has never stayed consistent. I was a normal kid, then in middle school I got fat, then sophomore year I got super skinny, then I toned out, then I maintained a healthy weight, then I gained weight, etc etc etc. It's been a roller coaster. But here's the thing, up until about 2 years ago I led a very active lifestyle. From the time I was 4 when I started playing soccer, I did something active every day. If I wasn't playing an organized sport, I was outside with my siblings playing basketball or roller hockey or jumping on the trampoline or juggling my soccer ball or riding our bikes. I'll forever be grateful to my parents for making us play outside and introducing us to an active, healthy lifestyle at such a young age. Even when I got fat in middle school, I was super active. I played soccer, basketball, and volleyball during the school year, so I was playing a sport every day of the year. In the summers I did swim lessons with my siblings, volleyball or soccer camps. In high school I was constantly active. Even after high school, I had the opportunity to play a couple years of college ball. I had access to the gym or track practically whenever I wanted it. My teammates and I would go work out together during post-season. I was in really good shape.

When my sophomore year of college volleyball ended, I kind of hit a wall, physically. I didn't have any kind of practice or camp or early morning training to go to, for the first time in my life. My friends and ex-teammates and I were all busy with our new-found "grown-up" lives, so we couldn't ever find a consistent time to work out together. I got into a relationship. I was working full-time and going to school full-time. I lived with roommates. I hated sharing a kitchen so I rarely cooked for myself. Which meant eating out. I would stop and get fast food between school and work. My lifestyle completely changed. And here's the part where "I'm no dummy" comes in: I gained weight. Surprise surprise. I did, it's no secret. Everyone could see it, but of course no one said anything. My mom was nice about it, asking if I'd been running or whatever haha. But

no, I hadn't done anything in ages. Well, actually that's not true. I played volleyball here and there. I went to a few open gyms that my old college coach invited me to. I did Ragnar. Which I didn't train for at all (and I literally mean, AT ALL). So even though I ran two 10K's and a 5K within a 24 hour period, I don't count that. I just literally didn't do anything active. I think my saving grace from becoming obese was the fact that I ran around at work for 8 hours a day. (sidenote: during my period of intense physical inactivity, I DID gradually train myself to do a pull-up, at work nonetheless. I would try to do one every day on this bar we had in the warehouse, and eventually I did a perfect pull-up. After that I would do a pull-up every time I went into the warehouse. I give myself credit for that).

So there you have it folks, I've gained weight the last couple years. I've since lost some of it, but I'm still not where I want to be. I haven't talked about it with anyone really, not even Adam, who I was in a relationship with the whole time this was going down. Him and I would talk about working out together and whatnot, but I'm more of a solitary worker outer, or I work out with girls. It's a mental thing. Ha. But I really didn't even talk to him about it. I know he noticed, but he was nice enough not to say anything. Probably because he knew that I was aware of it. My family didn't really say anything about it. Last time I went home my mom did make the comment, "you've lost weight!" Oh, mother.

I've been telling myself since I stopped playing volleyball that I need to do something to stay active. I'd seen other former college athletes who now have kids and that sort of thing, who are just big. And round. And I don't want to be like that. I want to be a fit mom. I want to be able to go on bike rides with my kids. I want to be able to go running with my husband. And I've been telling myself forever that I'm going to get back in shape. My problem is, is I am a headcase. I

am. About everything. If I get something in my head, that's the only thing I focus on until I am satisfied with that or something changes my mind. For example, if I am jogging, and I think to myself, "oh shoot, my calves are really tight right now, I don't know how far I'll be able to run today." And I will start to contemplate when I am going to stop and turn around, until I think to myself, "hey, idiot. People don't get in shape by running a mile and stopping cuz their calves are tight." And then I tell myself that only panty-wastes stop running because their calves are tight. That sort of thing. Another example of why being a headcase is a major setback for me, is that if I have had a stressful day at work, or a long day, or whatever, I tell myself that it's okay to shower and go to bed at 7pm rather than get a quick jog in. And for that reason, I have never stayed consistent at exercising on my own.

And then I had an epiphany. A couple things I have recently discovered have led me to change my lifestyle. The first one is, a paraplegic moved next door to me a couple months ago. We finally have neighbors! Anyway, a paraplegic and his friend currently occupy the condo next to ours. His name is Jeremy, and he lives in a wheelchair. He is pretty young, I would guess in his late 20's. I have talked to him a few times, my roommate and I baked them cookies a couple weeks ago, he's real nice. But I can't help but feel bad for the guy. A lot of times when I'm leaving the house and walking to my car, I see him outside in his wheelchair, just cruising around, getting some sun. Other times, when I am walking into my house, I can see him through his window, just sitting in his chair reading a book. And I can't help but think, how boring of a life that must be. Not being able to use your legs at all, trapped in a chair for your entire life. I would literally go

crazy! That's insane. Seeing Jeremy and all that he CAN'T do, has inspired me to take advantage of what I CAN do. Using my legs, walking around, going for a jog.

The second thing that has led me to get back into an active lifestyle, is my current situation. I've been thinking about this a lot lately. I'm single. I'm alone in a foreign town. I'm not in school right now. I work full-time. On top of that, I work a really weird, inconsistent schedule every week so I rarely have time to call up the few friends I have here and see what they're doing. My roommates and I are rarely all home together so we hardly spend any time together, and when we do it's just watching a movie at home or something. My car gets terrible gas mileage, and that combined with the outrageous gas prices, I have no desire or intention to take unnecessary trips to explore the town. So, I am sort of stuck in this little bubble right now. My days have been

routine. I go to work, come home, watch a TV show on my computer, shower, eat, go to bed. That kind of thing. I go to FHE most Mondays. But besides that, our institute or even just my ward doesn't do any bi-weekly or even monthly activities like Tucson does. So I have no church activities or anything like that to look forward to. I haven't really met any LDS people here because my ward is tiny and, like I said, I haven't heard about a single combined institute activity since I've been here, and one of my roommates is strongly against ward-hopping. So it's been kind of weird here, church-wise. So I haven't had a chance to go out much. I go shopping here and there by myself, but I'm sick of feeling lazy. A few months ago I realized that I want to develop new hobbies, or just get back into the old ones that I used to have. It gets boring being in a city where you don't know anyone besides coworkers and your roommates. I have a sewing machine that I've been wanting to put to use. I don't have a piano anymore. I haven't ridde

n my longboard in months, because I don't know anyone else who has one (trust me, I've asked around). I've played volleyball a couple times, talking to people about getting into a league with them, but my work schedule has prevented me from going back and getting details. So I haven't even played volleyball in months. So I decided, I have all this free time to myself after work. I'm not in school right now. I'm sort of a loner in this town. I'm not dating anyone. When I'm home, about 75% of the time I'm home alone. And, here's the real good part, I have a county rec center right down the street from my house. I've been telling myself for a few months that I would go get a membership to the gym there, because it's super cheap. I just had a hard time getting over there. But last week I actually did it. I've gone to the gym every day since I've had the

membership. Except Sunday, duh. I've also been eating a lot healthier. I haven't eaten out for at least a couple weeks, I can't even remember the last time, which is big for me. I've been on a fruit kick. I've been eating tons of apples, pears, oranges, bananas. And with that I've been eating a lot of lean proteins- egg whites, ham, chicken. And I'm excited. I'm excited to feel healthy again. I'm excited to be able look at pictures of myself and not think, "ugh, do I really look like that?" I'm excited about having to wash more clothes than just my work clothes. But mostly, I'm excited to get my body into shape again, and take advantage of the simple fact that I have the ability to be active. Because that's such a blessing. And whenever I have a hard time motivating myself to get up and go to the gym, or run just a few more minutes, this is what I think of:

And I don't wanna be the one just chillin' on the couch.

Children make the world go 'round.

Today at work a little girl named Crystal, probably 4 or 5, told me I was pretty! It was so cute. And it was SO much more flattering hearing that from a little girl than it is hearing it from the 45- or 60-something-year-olds that I get hit on by every day. Not trying to toot my own horn or think my poo don't stink or something, because I'm sure the guys that hit on me hit on every other female with even a hint of femininity in their appearance. It just gets annoying! It's to the point where I don't feel the least bit flattered when old men hit on me. Or when Mexican guys hit on me. Or coworkers. Or anyone, really. I sometimes feel sort of rude the way I respond to it, and sometimes I feel bad about how I react to it, but sometimes it actually feels sort of degrading. And that's what bothers me.

I may or may not be being a little dramatic about the whole thing. Fact is, I know every girl will get hit on by guys wherever they work. It happens. To everyone. I get that. But for me, I feel like I'm in a little bit different situation. I work at a tool store, where about 90% of our clientele are males. On top of that, I work at a cheap tool store, so you can probably imagine the demographic of the majority of my customers. Low class, drunks, racists, veterans, druggies, government-assisted, Mexicans (not being racist, we get tons of Mexicans who take our cheap tools back to Mexico. TONS of them). So, a lot of them don't interact with people very professionally, or even considerately. It is hard to be patient with my customers. And it's even harder to maintain a polite demeanor and bite my tongue when they make comments about my physical appearance. Let's just say, it's a good thing my momma don't work with me! She'd go all Lorena Bobbit on they a$$es! Joking. Well, not really. Lorena Bobbit is my mom's hero. Oops, tangent.

Anyway, this little girl made my day. It was an honest, innocent compliment, that meant so much more to me than the other bullcrap I hear every day. I told her she was pretty also, and we had a perfect little conversation after that. I explained to her what a debit card was. Haha.

I LOVE KIDS.

pointers

If you want to stay on my good side, which probably doesn't matter to most people, and that's fine, but here are some things you should NOT do:

-talk during movies. ARRRGH.

-tell me not to watch the Bachelor.

-talk trashy talk about country music.

-pretend like you know everything about everything. Because no one does. Except God.

-leave cupboards open.

-purposely change the volume on a radio or TV to an odd number after I deliberately put it on and even number. Seriously.

-cry if I make fun of you. Or try to respond with something literal. That's annoying. Playful banter. That's where I'm at. Give it right back.

-eat my fish crackers without asking.

-start an argument on my Facebook status or anywhere on my page. *unfriended. Not sorry.

-put your Pandora radio on a Ke$ha station. Never. Ever.

-publicly complain about life and how sucky it is. Everyone has probs, bro. It could be worse!

-tell me things like, "I'm pretty sure I like hotdogs because I'm a Pisces." No, no you don't. You like hotdogs because they're delicious. Your sign has nothing to do with that, or anything. Let's think simple. And smart.

-do things just to get my attention. It won't happen. I find that to be particularly annoying.

-along that line, telling stories with the intent of getting my praise or sympathy, or just my attention. That sounds awful and mean, but I hate when people come up to me, or just walk by and say, "OMG let me tell you what just happened." Sometimes I want to just be like, "no." Because usually in that case it's someone who's really dramatic about everything and needs constant attention, and I'm sitting there thinking, 'I didn't ask to hear this story, nor am I going to bite' wishing I could get that 3 minutes back. You know what I'm talking about. Pet peeve.

-talk bad about my family or my religion. I very rarely get offended but those are two buttons you should never push.

-comment on how I missed my knees when I shaved. Ha. I get tired of explaining that I've always been scared to shave my knees. They're mountainous and impossible okay.

Sometimes I wish I lived on my own private island. Amiright?

all that and a bag a puhtaytuh chips

I've been neglecting my blog, and I feel terrible about it. SIKE. Also, I understand 'sike' is not actually a word and the correct word is 'psych', but I feel like SIKE is a better spelling to describe the action of SIKEing someone out. PSYCH sounds like, PSYCHO or something, and that is clearly not what that word means in this context. Anyway.

I've had a lot going on lately. Okay, sike again. I haven't. My life is pretty much the same. Christmas was actually awesome. It was my first Christmas away from my family, so it was definitely a little strange not waking up to little kids yelling and running down the hall. But I wanna do Christmas all over again. Seriously. It was the best. And before Christmas my mother came to visit me for a few days. But we didn't get to spend too much time together because I couldn't take work off due to the holiday season, so I was stuck working the majority of the time she was here. And she got food poisoning or something while she was here :( boo. But it was a good time.

I love Christmas. Some of the best memories I have happened during the Christmas season. Phantoming, by far, is my favorite Christmas memory. Every year my family and I would choose a family we all knew, and ding-dong-ditch them every day for the 12 Days of Christmas. So for the latter half of December, we would give this family a gift pertaining to whatever 'Day of Christmas' it was. For example, the second day of the song is 'two turtle doves' so we would give them either Dove soap or Dove chocolate or something. We also added to it, by giving them a piece of a Nativity set every night. So on Christmas Eve, or the 12th day, we would 'reveal' ourselves, give them the last piece of the Nativity, and sing them 'We Wish You a Merry Christmas'. We called it 'phantoming', and it was my favorite thing in the world. We still talk about the families who chased us every night trying to catch us. We still talk about who tripped on what curb and ate cement, or that time Jael said I was in the truck when I actually was barely hanging on so my dad took off and I fell into the road and tore the crap out of my favorite pair of Lee Pipes. It is seriously my favorite tradition. And the families we do it to always have the best time, and still talk to us about it during Christmas. It's awesome.

I also love Christmas music. I don't care what anyone says, I love listening to Christmas music 24/7 in December. It never gets old. Okay, that's a lie. Some songs get old. But there are so many Christmas songs that I have inside jokes with people because of, so every time I hear those songs I crack up. I mostly crack up inside, but sometimes out loud. Then I have to explain myself. For example, the song Feliz Navidad. Funniest story ever. Me writing about it, or even telling anyone about it, does not do it justice. It's one of those you-had-to-be-there stories. But I will share it anyway. Haha. In Seminary my sophomore year, everyone knows Somerville puts on the Christmas musical program in every class. Well, me, Jael, Kami, Garrett, Lans, Scott, Aaron I think, and one other person decided that we were going to play the kazoos to the tune of Feliz Navidad. We even asked Somerville beforehand if that was okay, and he said no. Well, that didn't stop us. When it was our turn, only me, Jael, and Kami got up. I went to the piano, and started playing O Holy Night. Jael and Kami were the vocalists. They sang one line of the song, to my accompaniment, and then we hopped up, whipped out our kazoos, and the boys joined us up front and we started jamming out to Feliz Navidad. With no music, of course. Just our plastic kazoos. Somerville got so angry. He turned off the tape recorder, and sat with his arms folded, glaring at us. Me and Jael and a couple other people made the mistake of making eye contact with Somerville, and we busted out laughing, so we had to sit down. Lans and Garrett were the only ones that finished out the song. The rest of us, including the class, were laughing too hard. Somerville was so mad at us. But it was so worth it. Seminary was awesome. Feliz Navidad is awesome. Among other songs. Like O Holy Night. And Happy Holidays. And others. Oh Christmas songs. I love you.

Okay, can I just say... the Strip is AMAZING at Christmastime. Sometime around Christmas I got to walk down the Strip, and pretty much went into every hotel possible except like 2. Seriously, it's my favorite. I didn't feel like the Strip was the normal trashy, hooker magnet place that it usually is. Everything was so cute! Inside the Bellagio, they had this whole set up of penguins and poinsettias and frosty swans (looks prettier than it sounds) and this HUGE Christmas tree:



I love it. At the Venetian there was also a big Christmas tree outside that changed colors and was awesome. They also had a fake ice rink set up and people were ice skating outside. And then there was a flash mob sort of thing where a few people dressed all in white were on the side of the building on small platforms and were singing along to Christmas music that was playing real loud. Everyone stopped to watch and it was so cool! I LOVE CHRISTMAS.

My New Year's celebration was equally awesome. Yet again, another SIKE. Let me tell you about my New Year's. Well, I hadn't had any solid plans for New Year's Eve. I had to work until 2pm on New Year's Eve, and I made the mistake of saying yes to my boss when he asked me to work New Year's Day. So that kind of screwed up the non-existent plans that I had of going out and getting crazy. I had a girlfriend from Tucson who was supposed to come up to Vegas for New Year's, but ended up flaking out. I had a couple other friends come up but they were just going to the Strip and getting shwasted, and that didn't sound like fun to me. There was an institute dance on the other side of town, but my roommates were out of town, and who goes to an institute dance by themselves. Scratch that. Who goes to an institute dance. Anyway. So I didn't really have any plans, except that all I'd been hearing about was the fireworks that happen on the Strip, so I reeeeeally wanted to watch those, whether it was from someone's roof or someone's TV or whatever. So that was what I wanted to do. Well, after I got home from work around 3pm my Visiting Teaching companion called me and said she was having a party at her house around 9 and said I should come. So I said, "okay sweet, I'll be there." Well, at about 5 I decided to take a nap so that I could actually stay awake til midnight, because I usually can't. I set my alarm so that I could get up and shower and whatnot. Well, my alarm went off, but instead of getting up I turned it off and went back to sleep. And I slept... til 4:30am... ummm yeah. I woke up and the first thing I realized was... I missed EVVVERRRRYTHINGGG. I was so mad. Then I was like, "well eff it, it's all over." So I went back to sleep, woke up at 7am, and wandered around my apartment eating random things until I had to get ready for work. It was the. worst. New Year's. ever. And I was in Vegas for crying out loud! Ugh. Still mad.

The end. Here's to 2012. If my first few days of this year were any indication of how the rest of the year will play out, it's gonna be a lonnnng year. But I'm excited. Less than 12 months til the world ends so I hope I am prepared. Yikes.

Some girl the other day....

thought I was black.... Again... This happens on a regular basis. Well, not necessarily people thinking I'm black, although that definitely wasn't the first time that's happened. It's hilarious to hear what people think my race is. I've gotten all sorts of crazy guesses since I can remember. It's kind of ridiculous actually. And I was recently talking to some of my coworkers about it, because I'm in a new town and, well, whenever I meet new people I know that question will come up eventually. "Caitlin, what ARE you?" It happens. It happened at work, it's happened in my ward, it happened at FHE two nights ago... Ha. At FHE the other night two random guys, at two different times, came up to me and asked if I am half Filipino. They were both white guys, so I said, "why, did you serve there?" Both of them had haha. They both said they were gonna start speaking Tagalog to me to see if I'd understand. I told them I would not have. And then it was awkward. But then after that I was talking to a few guys I met a couple weeks ago, and we started talking about "what I am." And I was telling them all the crazy things people in the past have thought, or nicknames people have come up with for me. Here are a few, more memorable ones:

-Arabian Princess
-Persian Princess
-Egyptian, because of my eyes...
-half Mexican/half black... WAY off
-just Mexican
-just black
-other ridiculous things.

Truth is, I don't even know "what I am" half the time, not even kidding. Every time I see my grandpa, he tells us we're something else. "Oh, you're part Indo-Chinese." or, "Yeah, you're part Caribbean Indian." No one even knows what that means. Bottom line, I'm a mutt. I have an idea of where I came from but some aren't actually confirmed. I'm just confused.
-

Just whatever.

Here's a newly developed pet peeve of mine: POINTLESS DOGS.

I'm currently house-sitting for a coworker and his wife who are visiting his family in Guam. He's been gone about 2 weeks, and comes back this weekend, I think. The main reason he needed a house-sitter is because he has two little dogs. I thought, sure, hey, my family had a couple dogs growing up. How hard could it be. Of course, my family dogs were outside dogs. Which I have decided is the only way to go. Okay. These two dogs I'm watching are the most pointless dogs I've ever seen. My coworker, Roland, said they just live in the house during the day when I'm home, including at night when I'm sleeping. When I'm gone they go in the kennel. And if I open the backyard door they'll run right outside and go to the bathroom. The first few days, they pooped and peed on the floor at least 5 times a day. Not kidding. I went to take a shower, got out, came downstairs, there was poop in the family room and pee in the kitchen. I went to go pee in the bathroom for 1.5 minutes. Came out, the biggest dog load I've ever seen had been dropped in the middle of the living room floor. I went to sleep at night like a normal human being. Woke up in the morning, there was poop on 3 stairs! I about kicked those dogs out the second story window. Now, they live outside when I'm home, and when I'm sleeping or at work they live in the kennel. They are the worst-trained dogs I've ever seen in my life. Roland and his wife have had these dogs forever, apparently. BUT they barely acknowledge their own names. They poop on the floor when I'm out of their site for more than a minute and a half. They don't go to the bathroom outside when I open the door. I get they're not used to me, but it's absolutely retarded!

Lack of dog training isn't what defines a pointless dog to me, though. Not completely, anyway. These dogs don't get walked. They don't provide entertainment, like fetching balls or something. They don't really ever leave the house unless they have to pee or poo. They're not even good watch dogs because they bark for ten minutes at literally anything that moves, including me. THEY'RE JUST POINTLESS.


I texted my sister, Jael, last week and told her that I appreciate that she and her husband trained their dog so well. I'm not a dog person. I never have been, and I am confident I will never own a dog. So trained dogs were always kind of like, "ooh, cool" to me. Jael and Paul have worked on training their dog since he was a puppy and when I lived with them I never had to worry about Toka being an idiot like these dogs. Even though I still am not a lover of pooches, I have quickly learned to appreciate people who take the time train their dogs. And I have quickly learned that I won't ever house-sit for pointless dogs again. The funny thing is, my coworker and his wife talk about their dogs like they're gods. It's really awkward.