I refuse to toast imposter indie films.

I have a problem with imposter indie films. Let me explain.

I adore a good indie film. By indie film I mean the independent films usually made for film festivals. Although my favorite films are foreign ones, independent films can be just as unique and meaningful. I loved Mozart and the Whale. The Painted Veil was beautiful. Bella was one on which I still reflect. I could go on, but I digress. What I'm saying is, I can't stand the indie films that are created only to make money or because they are in style. Independent films should be made to express an idea, to inspire the watcher, to move people. Too many indie films have lost that focus. They usually end up being super weird or end up not making sense at all. In a way, these imposter films can be likened unto the Mannerist art period. The High Renaissance period was the point where art had become perfected--Leonardo could create a striking replica of the woman, Mona Lisa, with a life-like picture of nature in the backdrop. Raphael's Baldessare Castiglione was so clear and perfect I was sure I could poke him in the eye and he'd start crying. When Mannerism came about, however, that veristic style was tweaked: the works of art seemed to be portraits not of real-life scenes, but portraits of portraits of real-life scenes. They seemed staged, one step removed from the real thing. They were trying so hard to recreate the paintings they loved that they missed the whole point: to paint the real thing! These imposter films go the same way. They have seen the success of other indie films and tried to pattern their movies the same way. They maintained the seemingly stream-of-conscious thinking, the quirky story lines, unique characters, and great sound track that are the usual facets of a good indie film, but they miss the entire point: a movie with a meaningful message.
I just watched a film called Expiration Date. I felt as if this was the epitome of an imposter. There was no deep meaning, no universal issue which I felt was made clearer. The kid thought he was gonna die by getting hit by a milk truck, but he didn't. During the process he started dating a crazy, annoying girl. Aaand that's about it. I Heart Huckabees was similar--a rather rambling, desultory storyline--although I did appreciate that it gave a great illustration of both existentialism and Nihilism. Still. I wish they'd stop trying to do the "Across the Universe thing" and abandon the whole "this movie is as artsy, drug-infused, and anti-American as possible, so it's cool." I love a movie if it is original, inspiring, and thought-provoking.

But maybe that's just me.

I will not toast phone calls.

I have a problem with the whole talking on the phone thing. I think it has something to do with my love language. Most are familiar with this, but in case you are not, there is a test you can take online to calculate how you express and accept love.
http://www.afo.net/hftw-lovetest.asp
There are five different ways: verbal affirmation, physical touch, quality time, gift-giving, and acts of service.
I am so obviously a quality time person that I should be falling over I'm so imbalanced. I am the opposite when it comes to the personality color test.
https://www.colorcode.com/personality_test/
Interestingly enough, I am straight across the board on that one. White is the passive peacemaker, yellow is the fun-loving party person, red is the aggressive, driven leader, and blue is driven by relationships and emotions. I am completely equal among all of them except I have one less red and one more yellow.
What does this have to do with a phone call? All I'm saying is, I do not connect with people through verbal affirmation. When a friend calls to chat, I set a time to go to lunch with them or watch a movie or go shopping and tell them I'll talk to them then. I would get much more out of just being with a person for an evening doing nonsense than having an hour-long conversation on the phone with them. I like to watch their face when we're talking; interact with them. If someone takes the time to be with me, I feel like our relationship has strengthened. If someone gives me a gift or tells me I'm "so great" over the phone, I don't feel anything.
Ironically, this really shouldn't be the case. I am an English major and I spend a lot of time with words. That is different; I am able to express myself much better by writing my feelings than having to explain them verbally. Let's be honest: I'm horrible at talking about my feelings and emotions. I have yet to ever have a DTR with a boy. I don't believe in them. Let the relationship flow, people. If you are meant to be boyfriend and girlfriend, you will be--you don't need to declare it in an awkward conversation late at night on your saggy apartment couch. I have never told a guy that I like him, actually. Thankfully, I think I'm able to get the point across eventually even though it's impossible for me to express it in words--I'm not a very open person, I guess. If I spend time with you, chances are I like to be with you.
Moral of the story: I don't like phone conversations, but I do like words. I may not tell you that I treasure you as a person, but when I spend time with you I am telling you I treasure you.

I would like to toast...my mission.

Missionary (noun): someone who leaves their family for a short time so that others can be with their families for eternity.

In case you weren't aware, I am waiting for a mission call.
I was never one of those girls who had always planned on a mission--it wasn't until about a year ago that the thought started squirming around in my mind and it wasn't until a few months ago that I knew it was right for me. But for these past few months that I have known it was right, waiting to finally go has been excruciating. Thank goodness that I'm finally to the point where my papers are ready. I was planning on putting my papers in Sept. 22 because my birthday and availability date are Dec. 22, but my bishop, of course, had to go out of town, resulting in an extra week of waiting before putting the papers in. Perhaps there's a reason for the delay--I don't know. Hopefully they will be put in this week and I will soon know where I will be sharing the Gospel for the next year and a half.
I have to chuckle when I am asked the classic question, "Where do you want to go?!" People, if I simply had a place in mind that I wanted to visit and sight see, a mission is not the way I'd go about it. Sure, I love speaking French and have always wanted to visit Africa, so I'll usually tell people that a Francophone country in Africa would be amazing, but we all know how likely that is. Many assume that a mission in the states isn't as cool, but after giving it a lot of thought, I've been struck by how incredible it would be to teach in your own language to your own people the greatest gift and knowledge you've been given. That hour of language study could be put toward and extra hour of Gospel study. I would have no qualms with that. Needless to say, I am excited to serve a mission, no matter where I go, what language I speak, or when I leave.
So...stay tuned to hear the most exciting news of my freakin' life.

A toast to the editor of Vogue.

The Devil Wears Prada in real life.

trailer

A toast to Audrey Tatou's new film.

Dear World,

Why is this only playing in NY and LA? Life is so unfair.

http://www.sonyclassics.com/cocobeforechanel/

Love,
Kelsey

A toast to Parade of Lights

Mes cheries,

Please watch this video snippet and enjoy this super cool band my friend Ian shared with me--these are some friends of his from CA. I implore you to notice when the major drums come in during the video. Sooo good. Yes, I would date any/all of the four guys.

Parade of Lights EP Video Teaser from Parade of Lights on Vimeo.

For more on these guys, check out http://paradeoflights.muxtape.com/

A toast to shots...and fasting...

So I'm sitting in the waiting room at the Student Health Center, quite nervous about having a needle put in my arm for the first time in my life. I was reading a National Geographic in efforts to distract myself when a nurse asked for a Julie. The other girl in the waiting room looked up and replied. The nurse asked, "Julie, are you fasting today?", obviously referring to not eating before a test or something. Julie paused for a moment and informed us, "No, I just haven't eaten yet today."

I sincerely tried to not laugh. I hope she didn't notice.

Only in Provo.


*I have officially received my first shot and gone against all that I believe--no longer a vaccination virgin. Oh, the things I do for a mission.

A Toast to BYU in the fall.

I love the fall. I'm not sure if it is my favorite season because I am fairly indecisive in this situation. I forget how much I like a season and then fall in love all over again and declare it my favorite and then rinse and repeat for the next season. Occasionally I loathe the winter come March, but usually I appreciate Utah's amazingly distinct seasons, making it one of my favorite facets of the state. Beginning school at BYU for yet another beautifully difficult, entertaining, and adventurous year is so magical. Yes, I know that using the word magical is super cliche, but it's necessary here. Slinking about BYU campus when it's still warm and admiring the trees from various countries of the world and appreciating the carefully planted flowers and casually watching the difference between the giddy freshmen and the harried graduate students, loving them both for just walking past me on campus and knowing that they hold many things sacred that I do while the sun shines equally as brightly on them as it does on me and we can enjoy this moment together because Heavenly Father loves us and we have the opportunity to go study so that we can sharpen our ability to learn so that eventually we can gain all knowledge and create our own worlds is just too much sometimes and I get that feeling of excitement/sadness that this won't last forever/ecstasy that it is here now/my heart is bursting and it kind of hurts/I want to stop and have a personal dance party/why can't I bis bis every person I see on campus and tell them I love them? In fact, why can't we bring bis bis to America? I feel like there would be much less conflict and stealing were we to instigate bis bis in the U.S. of A. The Spawn of Satan would have hesitated during the temple dedication when he stole my purse full of an iPod, camera, phone, wallet, cards, temple recommend, makeup bag, and clothes had he known that I would have been willing to kiss him on each cheek without even knowing his name simply because he is a human being (Yes, I am being sexist for assuming it was a man. Am I a Satanist for believing also that it was Satan?). Also, I believe dance parties would bring the world together through love. World poverty, hunger, and war would be alleviated simply because of that greater feeling of love and friendship. I wish that I could go to Romania, Senegal, Guam, Australia, Iran, Prague, Venezuela, Greece, Japan, and Laos and show them BYU campus just so they could know a different life and I would give them all peanut butter M&Ms and free tuition and we'd all learn about biology and art history and grammar and then have a dance party to celebrate our freedom.
These are the thoughts that run through my head as I walk across BYU campus at the beginning of the school year as the electric excitement charges us all enough to get through the entire year like the way I charge my newly acquired Zack Morris brick phone every night so that it lasts the whole next day. We have so much to enjoy and experience, my friends. Let's not lose a moment--do your homework, thrive in your classes, make friends with the girl on your left and the boy on your right. Sit in the front row in every class. Comment--you know you learn better when you do. Do your homework at the library and walk home with a new friend and then make dinner with your old roommates from freshman year and have a dance party with your new ward members. Write a note of appreciation to your parents for sacrificing so much to make you happy. Find a new favorite scripture chase and share it with someone. Thank Him for what you have. Read your patriarchal blessing and commit to attaining every one of those blessings you are conditionally promised. It's a new year! a new semester! a new beginning! Let's be happy together. Walk on the golden campus with me and love it. Good luck everyone, and join me in toasting BYU campus in the fall and the happiness it brings.

A toast to you.

To my lovely readers: here's a little sumpun sumpun to brighten up your day. I love you all. And I love SYTYCD.

http://video.yahoo.com/watch/5527668/14534025

A toast to my dad.

Oh, Dad.

http://studio5.ksl.com/index.php?nid=56&sid=7226387

I'd like to make a toast to the Sartorialist...and his new book.

In case anyone is racking their brain trying to think of a gift that they could give me that I'd love...

http://thesartorialist.blogspot.com/2009/07/book-has-arrived.html

I'm perfectly in love with Scott Schuman's famous blog.

Toast sugar...or untoast it.

Once you put sugar in your diet, it will take approximately 72 hours to get that out of your system before you can start burning fat.
Oh my gosh.

Toastin' M.I.A.

I know, this song has been way overplayed by every dance party in Provo, but I still love it and I just discovered the music video, compliments of my future roomie, Bre. I like this...best part, though? The stampede of people shimmying down the street in multi-colored 80's outfits. Why have I never done that? Oh, wait, I have.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JqlY0VOFtyA

A toast to DRAPER TOWNNNN

According to Money Magazine, Draper, Utah is the 22nd best city in America. THAT'S MY CITY, BABY. I noticed for the first time a few weeks ago driving home how every car driving along the roads of Draper are exorbitantly expensive--Hummers, Range Rovers, Mercedes, a Porsche every once in a while. Why was I never aware that I lived in a rich city? I guess it should have tipped me off when I heard we were getting an In-N-Out. That's always the mark of a good city.
Go Draper!

Toasting the Twilight Concert Series

Thanks to the lovely SL Twilight Concert Series, I was able to enjoy the croonings of Jenny Lewis last night...and then Bon Iver. For free! It was wonderful.

Here is the lovely Jenny Lewis in her new and rather entertaining music video, See Fernando. This is how I deal with guys, too, Jenny! We're like the same!

Jenny Lewis "See Fernando"

Bon Iver was absolutely amazing as well. They don't have any music videos that I could find. They recorded the first album in a cabin in the woods during the winter. The name, ironically, refers to "good winter" en francais. Yes, Bon Iver, it was a good winter when you created that album. Justin Vernon's voice just gives you chills. He had us all sing to one song and gradually get louder until we were all shouting. There we were, hundreds of strangers in SLC standing in the warm summer evening shouting along with Bon Iver. Definitely one of my favorite concert memories. See you at the next Thursday concert!

Toast Jaywalking

If you are a fan of Jay Leno or of making fun of unintelligent people in the U.S., you'll enjoy this.

http://mail.google.com/mail/?ui=2&ik=9afff2387b&view=att&th=1225ffa8c4a5e808&attid=0.1&disp=attd&zw

A toast to the stuffed olive.

I live in a ghetto apartment in the Elms. I've lived there far too long--since the fall. My fall and winter semesters were wonderful, however, because I lived with my best friends, our apartment eventually becoming known as Neverland because we were Lost Girls and never wanted to grow up. Rather fitting. We became very close and then what did they do? They up and left me for the summer--three to Jerusalem, one to Peru, one to Australia, Fiji, and New Zealand (she's back now, thank goodness). Luckily, I have the hilarious memories to keep me going. During our time in Neverland, we labeled our roles in our quasi-family:
Catherine was the grandma because she was way too responsible, organized, and clean to be a college student...and she was also crazy and did inappropriate things that we loved. Lisa had two roles: the dog and the father. The dog because she is the happiest, most loyal friend you'll ever have. She would never do anything to hurt you and she is always satisfied. The father because she worked at Brick Oven Pizza and would come home late at night, loosen her tie, put her feet up and eat her nasty $1.00 Banquet TV dinner. Ah, it was too funny. I know, you had to have been there and you're probably thinking "Kelsey, get on with it." Patience.
Brittany was the fairy godmother because she'd randomly make very fatteningly wonderful chocolate chip cookies for everyone or say happy little things in a sweet voice like a fairy godmother. Although, we all know she was the most negative of the entire group because she'd usually say awful things in the middle of a normal conversation, usually just liking to play devil's advocate and try to make Neverland more realistic.
Didi was the brat teenager because she wasn't afraid to sass anyone and would usually try to spark controversial conversations to get things exciting. Plus she had crazy style, wouldn't shower, and is a beautiful emotional roller coaster that makes our lives more exciting and enjoyable.
Candace--Beats--she's the mom, hands down. The woman was born to be a mother--like, literally coming out of the womb wanting to help other people and sew and cook for them. She took care of all of us and listened to our sob stories and supported us, making meals, sewing on our buttons, crying with us, etc.
Me? I was the crazy aunt. Never understood why.
Now, as roommates, we literally did act more like sisters than anything. We loved being together all the time and were rather an initimidating group of women because of our intense personalities and sassy senses of humor. Needless to say, we had a choice group of men come to visit us:
Anders Aabo: the happy, impulsive, well-travelled business major from Norway who had a wonderful accent that we'd always try to mimick but never quite could. He made us so happy with his visits to MACKdonald's, Aladdin pants, motorcycle, green minivan named Plankton, homemade longboard, hot air balloon rides, total lack of hygiene, the way he said "pliz pliz pliz" instead of "please please please", random vacations to all of Europe, Mexico, Hawaii, and southern Utah, urging Craig to not be rude and "Eat a coookie!", and undying love for all of us no matter how insane, emotional, or ridiculous we were.
Yanal Issac: our Muslim friend from Syria attending BYU who just so happened to be a world-champion boxer and demonstrated his punching strength per our request on our sad, weak little wall, making a large, lovely holel which we then covered with a happy birthday sign. He'd attend our weekly dance parties once in a while and told me that I should be a belly dancer in Syria. Why had I never thought of that? I then asked him to bring me back a scarf from Syria after Christmas Break. He returned not with a scarf, but a belly-dancing skirt (you know, the ones with the gold coins that jingle everytime your hips even slightly move) along with a cd of Syrian music and strict instructions to go to Youtube and look up videos on belly dancing so I can learn. I now don the belly-dancing skirt to every dance party I can. No, I have not Youtubed the actual dance...yet. Maybe I should go do that.
Prince Early: our black rapper friend from Chicago. The guy could flow like nobody's business and we quickly learned every song on his cd and sang along with him at his concert at the Velour. Usually when he was at our apartment, we talked about love, prejudice, and rapping. He usually ended up hugging us all and saying, "Yo, dis apartment is just so full of love, man. I just feel it. It's beautiful."
There was also Paco the Peruvian who helped Brittany learn Spanish, Ian the Asian from Canada who wore jeans so tight it looked painful and who I'm pretty sure took his roadbike to get anywhere, Vadim the Russian with whom I was supposed to fall in love according to my sister-in-law but was just too...Russian?
For some reason, we attracted the foreign men. We had hopes of organizing a Foreign Date '08 where each of us would take a foreign man, but that's too organized for us and our brains would have exploded simultaneously.
Why were most other men afraid to step through our door? Well, we had a theory that we regularly tested on the men who visited us. First, though, we'd insist that they guess where we were all from. Ya, I know, HI please label us!!! but still, it was funny. The best was always when one of the girls would get all offended at being pegged for a Utah girl. Really? Is it that bad?
If they had survived the simple "Guess where we're from!" game, we would then explain our theory:
"Imagine that life is a Halloween party. You walk into the party and notice three girls in particular. The first is dressed as an angel. She is SO pretty and SO sweet. She says all the right things at the right times and giggles at all your jokes, making you feel like a real man. She doesn't have many strong opinions; she's easy to get along with. She's just perfect--a total angel.
The second girl is dressed as Catwoman--the tight, black leather pants and tail included. K, this girl is HOT. She's super sassy and sarcastic. She is totally mysterious, too: she could be into you and totally flirting with you, but, then again, she could have flirted with every other guy at the party. It's hard to tell. All you know is that she's sexy and sassy.
The third girl is dressed in a paper mache stuffed olive costume that she made herself. She's also sporting red tights for the pimento. This girl is hilarious. She is crazy and out there, not afraid at all to be herself. She has strong opinions and isn't ashamed to share them. She's a ton of fun to be around."
After setting this up, we would then ask the man, "Which girl would you ask out at the end of the night? Which girl do you usually go for? Why? Now which one would you label each of us?" This quickly helped us get to know the guy, not just by analyzing his answer, but watching him defend it, listen to his reasoning, critique his mannerisms. We had a ball doing it and it was a fantastic icebreaker. We once had a man sum up the three girls: the angel is the girl you want to marry, the catwoman is the one you want to date, and the stuffed olive is the best friend. Good summation. Very true.
Usually, though, men thought we were crazy and wouldn't come back after our analytical interview.
Of course, our apartment was a conglomeration of several stuffed olives. And we were proud of it.
To all of the stuffed olives out there: I toast to you.

A toast to broken things again.

I found something in The Infinite Atonement that goes along perfectly with what I was discussing before about the Lord loving broken things. Yes, He loves us to be broken because only THEN can He fix us--He requires this of us in 3 Nephi 9:20. But it goes beyond that. It is appropriately symbolic that we must have a broken heart to enjoy the blessings of the atoning sacrifice perhaps because, as Elder Talmage submitted, the Lord died, quite literally, of a broken heart. "The strong, loud utterance, immediately following which He bowed His head and 'gave up the ghost,' when considered in connection with other recorded details, points to a physical rupture of the heart as the direct cause of death...Great mental stress, poignant emotion either of grief or joy, and intense spriritual struggle are among the recognized causes of heart rupture." The book goes on, "Perhaps the inspired psalmist saw literally and figuratively the cause of the Savior's demise when he sang, "Reproach hath broken my heart (Psalm 69:20)." We, in the same token, must consecrate our all to be eligible for the blessings of the Atonement. 2 Nephi 2:7 states: "[Christ] offereth himself a sacrifice for sin...unto all those who have a broken heart and contrite spirit..."
He not only loves broken things, but has been a broken thing so as to succor us. I think that's love in its purest form.

Toast paid celibacy.

How did I miss this boat?

http://www.wxii12.com/health/19843503/detail.html

Toast Iron and Wine.

Iron and Wine is coming to Utah for the Twilight Concert Series. As in it will be free. I'm going. Come with me. I'm so happy.

A toast to my new fave show.

Oh no. I'm hooked. I promised myself that I wouldn't get addicted to another TV show outside of The Office and Arrested Development because I hate being one of those ridiculous fans who dedicate their entire night to a favorite show and shush anyone who makes noise around them--that or the people who Tivo it to watch later, stopping their ears and screaming like a baby immediately if anyone dares to mention the show before they've seen it. Really? Get over it.
Consequently, I've avoided the show So You Think You Can Dance. The name itself sounds a little ridiculous and more appropriate for tweens than a college co-ed and I assumed it was just a lame dancing take-off of American Idol. My sister-in-law, however, introduced me to the show when I was staying at her house in Phoenix and rocked my freaking world.
I think the reason that I avoided ever watching the show, deep down inside, was because I knew I'd love it. I begrudgingly admit that I'm obsessed with both of the Step Up movies and repeatedly try to mimick their moves, only to look like a blind monkey on crack. Whatever. I'm not ashamed. Maybe I love watching dance because I am uncoordinated myself. Sure, dance parties are my favorite past time. I can Pop Lock and Drop It like nobody's business and I'm pretty sure I've got the booty shake down. That's not my issue. It's the structured dancing with which I have issues. When it comes to square dancing, swing, or any form of ballroom, I look like a lost little boy standing uncomfortably in the middle of Victoria's Secret, except I'm being thrown about and dipped by a strange man. I used to take jazz, clogging, and even ballet (that was painful), but the whole memorized dance pieces in an orderly fashion was just a little bit for my tiny brain to handle, I guess. So, those who can't dance, worship. I mean watch.
I would post a link to some of my favorite SYTYCD dances but
A. I can't narrow down which are my favorite.
B. There is a surprising lack of good videos.
C. I'm too lazy to do it. Back off.

For now, I'll just schedule all of my time around Wednesdays from 7-9.

Toast Sacrifice.

Read 3rd Nephi 9:20 as Christ talks about the sacrifice that we need to make in our day: one of a broken heart and contrite spirit. Truly, God loves broken things. Christ asks us to be humble and broken because only then can He fix us. It is during those times when we feel unworthy, alone, or are enduring a trial, and thus are humbled and repent and take on a broken heart and contrite spirit--only THEN can He fix us; only THEN can He answer our prayer. What a blessing it is to sacrifice for our Savior--even though Brigham Young says there is no such thing as sacrifice. We can all work on observing our covenants through sacrifice (DC 97:8). It is our duty as members of Christs' church. As we make sacrifices they don't go in vain--the Lord notices each one and He will accept us through our sacrifices (DC132:50) and, dang it, He will just bless us again and we'll never be able to pay Him back. Let's always hold on to this principle of sacrifice and remember the powerful true statement in "Praise to the Man":

"Sacrifice brings forth the blessings of heaven."

Toast Thomas Hardy. Again.

I'm almost done with this book and soon I'll be quoting a new one.

"It is difficult for a woman to define her feelings in language which is chiefly made by men to express theirs."

Amen.

I'd like to make a toast to prayer.

My brother, Brandon, inspired me with some powerful doctrine on prayer:

Remember Joseph Smith’s counsel to “weary the Lord until He blesses you”? I read something this morning that changes my interpretation of that counsel. Very revealing.
Take a minute to review the Savior’s “Parable of the Unjust Judge” in Luke 18:1-5. This judge “feareth not man nor God,” yet a woman comes and begs him to avenge her of her adversary. He doesn’t oblige her at first, but then, over time, he “gives in” and gives her what she wants. I’ve always interpreted this parable to mean that the Lord wants us call on His name repeatedly because somehow it unlocks the powers of heaven and helps Him help us. Or, as Joseph Smith said, “Weary the Lord until He blesses you.” In other words, we weary Him with prayer for his benefit. But Elder Lund in his book “Hearing the Voice of the Lord” points out something different. First, we know God doesn’t ask us to pray to Him in order for Him to know what we want. He already knows everything. So clearly our pleadings don’t benefit Him that way. Second, we know God wouldn’t ask us to pray to Him in order to satisfy some petty whim of His. He doesn’t need or want to see us grovel. And He doesn’t want us to jump through theological hoops in order to prove our submissiveness. That is completely counter to His nature. So what, then, is the purpose of this parable?
Well, this parable has another name, which is the “Parable of the Importunate Woman.” (The Savior doesn’t use the word “importunate” here, but He uses it three times in D&C 101:81-89”.) Importunate is the opposite of faint. It means “to press or beset with solicitations; demand with urgency or persistence.” Jesus is telling us in this parable that we should importune Him the Lord when we need something. But if importuning isn’t for His benefit, then it must be for ours. What is it about importuning that’s so significant? When we ask for something we don’t get right away, it causes us to either blame God or blame ourselves. Assuming we don’t blame God, we look within ourselves and start doing a spiritual inventory, right? We check to make sure we’re being righteous enough to deserve the blessing. We pray harder and longer. We serve more. We are kinder to those around us. We hit the temple more frequently. In a word, we further the process of sanctification. In other words, importuning initiates a tremendous process of spiritual growth. The very process of praying, exercising greater faith, humbling ourselves, and finally submitting our will to His becomes spiritually empowering. We don’t persist in prayer in order to change God’s mind or convince Him of anything. We persist in prayer to change our hearts. We don’t “weary the Lord” with prayer in order to change God’s mind. We weary Him in prayer hard enough and long enough that our own hearts change. We may think we are unlocking the powers of heaven (and perhaps we are to some degree), but it may be that more significant in effectuating blessings is that we have unlocked our own hearts.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z19zFlPah-o

I just got a bike and am really excited to ride again, but really?

A toast to music Nazis.

Sometimes I feel like my privacy has been invaded in the form of my ipod in your hands. There is nothing more humiliating (perhaps I exaggerate) than having your iPod kifed from your hands and placed in the hands of an evil, non-Beyonce-loving, judgmental music Nazi or pretty much anyone else for that matter. It's like taking a baby from a mother, candy from a child, Sunchips from a 22 year old fake blonde, high heels from Posh Spice, a glove from OJ Simpson, a pretzel from George W. Bush, Angela from Dwight, a cell phone from a middle-schooler, or a planner from a BYU dweeb. Looking through someone else's ipod playlists is sometimes like reading their diary, searching through their underwear drawer, reading their text over their shoulder, looking at the scale when they're on it, or walking in on them dancing in a pair of the underwear you already searched through while they're singing and dancing to MmmBop, only to record the personal and private dance session on your phone, wish you could post it on Facebook, and desire to submit an idea to Hanes for a new commercial.

Here are a few things people might say when looking through an ipod that isn't their own:

You have all of the High School Musical albums? I thought that was an elaborate joke.
Wait a minute, your top 5 songs alternate between Ratatat's Wildcat, Miley Cyrus' Nobody's Perfect, Coldplay's Viva La Vida, Michael Buble's Everything and T-Pain's latest? Have you by chance heard of disassociative identity disorder?
Still have the Fresh Prince rap from when you memorized it in 6th grade, eh? News flash: everyone else knows it. And yes, the same goes for "Ice Ice Baby" and "Jessie's Girl." Boyz II Men? Really?
I see that an MC Hammer song other than "Can't Touch This" is on your purchased playlist. You may as well have eaten that $1.00.
It says here you've listened to Clay Aiken's song, "Invisible," 327 times. Wow. Let's see, if that song is 4 minutes long, according to my calculations, not only have you spent more time listening to Clay Aiken than he has been out of the closet, but you are much weirder than I initially anticipated. When I say weird, I mean it in the creepiest sense of the word. "If I were invisible, then I would just watch you in your room..." Case in point.
To all those teen angst kids: Dashboard is lying to you! She doesn't love you and she'll never call you back!
Eddie Murphy tried to be a pop star in the 80's? Awkward.
If you liked it then maybe you should have put a ring on it. Yes, this song is about a finger--not woman power.
Oh...you have a playlist full of sappy love songs named after me?
Oh, you have When You Say Nothing At All by Alison Krauss, too? K, no.
I feel awkward that you say that I'd Lie by Taylor Swift is the song you most relate to...
My Heart Will Go On and on and on and on, too.
You like jazz? What a loser! (Jazz is my favorite genre of music so back off.)
Why are you embarrassed about having all the Backstreet Boys albums? So does everyone else. And they're proud of it.
I, personally, have nothing to hide on my ipod. But to quote The Great Hammer: can't touch this!

A toast to those happy spots in life.

My friend, Sarah, inspired me to contemplate the little things in life that I love. I can do that. Here goes.

Not wearing shoes, even when you probably should be.
Snoozing in the afternoon.
The word snooze.
Laughing with someone until tears come out.
Songs that put you in a good mood.
Crinkly eyes.
When you are thirsty and you drink some cold water and feel it go all the way down.
Falling asleep.
Watching someone's face when they are interacting socially.
Leftovers from the restaurant last night.
Discovering a new favorite scripture.
Freshly shaven legs against your sheets.
An old couple holding hands.
Art.
When you are walking and unexpectedly smell some flowers you hadn't noticed.
Eating after going swimming. Anything tastes good.
Peanut butter M&Ms.
Being sore from exercising.
Getting so into a book that you forget about life.
The sunshine.
Discussing controversial topics without anyone getting mad.
Making lists.
When you immediately connect with someone.
When a guy smells good.
Having something to look forward to.
The cold side of the pillow.
When babies yawn.
When someone is happy to see you.
A hug from Mom.
The sound crickets make.
A unique photograph.

K, now everyone add to this list.

Toast Thomas Hardy.

One of my all time favorite writers is Thomas Hardy. Shed a tear in awe at his tomb at Westminster Abbey. I am currently reading his book, Far From the Madding Crowd. I read this line and got a kick out of it:

"Love is a possible strength in an actual weakness. Marriage transforms a distraction into a support, the power of which should be, and happily often is, in direct proportion to the degree of imbecility it supplants."

It's like the quote "Love is blind" on steroids.

Love.

I'd like to toast not getting swine flu. And clubbing.

So I went on a cruise to Mexico. It was great. I went with my sister, Ashley, and a bunch of random BYU students. Yes, I said Mexico, but before you get your face mask, let me explain. The captain of the boat announced over the loud speaker the night before we were supposed to visit Ensenada that we in fact we would NOT be visiting. The national health association deemed swine flu too dangerous (I'm gonna wave the BS flag on that one and say the media is making swine flu a much bigger deal than it is--it's another strain of the flu, people! There was an outbreak of swine flu a few years ago and more people died from the vaccination than from the flu itself. It is simply because we can track this particular strain and get freaked out watching it spread. Thousands die from the flu a year...why is swine flu any different? But I digress.) and they didn't want to risk the health and safety of those on board. So, what did we do? We ate. We spent the majority of the time hot tubbing, eating, enjoying the karaoke bar, clubbing, and playing games. And eating. Hooray for unlimited soft serve ice cream and 24-hour pizza. I came home feeling like the Michelin Man, but whatever. It was worth it.
Us eating. SURPRISE!

Best moment: I get on the dance floor, sober and without any care of who was watching, and break it down. Ash and I danced from 11:00 to 2:30... nonstop. We just had our group of BYU kids dancing while a little mini Asian dance party was going on at the other side of the club. With a few transvestites...awkward.

But one of the nights, Ash and I and a few other friends were pretty pooped and done for the night so we maneuvered our way out of the club and passed another "adult" club. It was dead. Everyone was just sitting smoking, drinking and staring at the wall. There was a great live band going so the four of us looked at each other and without speaking a word, danced our way onto the dance floor. We got a few pretty awesome looks as we livened the place up. Within 10 minutes, we had the dance floor packed. Yes, packed. We surveyed our work and nodded in satisfaction, then left to get some fresh air. Mission accomplished.

I had issues getting my wetsuit on for our surfing trip.

Three Arches, one of the beaches we visited after the cruise in Long Beach.

A toast to some interesting advice...

For all you ladies out there wondering why you're not married...here are some opinions on why. Hilarious!

http://www.whymormongirlsstaysingle.com/search?updated-max=2009-02-06T15%3A16%3A00-08%3A00&max-results=7

I would like to toast FEZ

My friend from freshman year named Dan Nelson aka Fez, is leaving on a mission in two weeks. He lives in California now and he quit his job in preparation for his mission, so he's been pretty bored. My roommate, Cat, suggested that he make us a music video to fill the time...so he did:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CrvnP6hiyY0

This was our reply:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P_gUpgG17XM

As you can see, the performing arts have come naturally to me. Sorry if most of these movies don't make much sense...they're chock full of inside jokes from freshman year. The main point of posting this was to simply entertain you. Hope it worked!

I'd like to toast Her Morning Elegance

K, PLEASE watch this music video. It is so good! Not just the video, but the song. A song for the girl who is always running, always surviving, looking great on the outside but sometime freakin out on the inside. Enjoy.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2_HXUhShhmY

I would like to toast my surgery tomorrow

I'm getting my wisdom teeth out tomorrow. My teeth decided to grow in during my busiest week yet at school so that it felt like my mouth was going to fall out of my face and I had to flatten everything that I ate so that I could fit it into my mouth without having to open very wide. Funny, but annoying. So that means I am going to the oral surgeon tomorrow and will be given drugs for the first time in my life. Oh, my gosh. Ironically, my brother seemed to sense my apprehension and sent a rather applicable Youtube video that kept me laughing for quite a while. This will be me tomorrow:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6b8Q5BK3-ZQ&eurl=http://www.facebook.com/home.php?ref=home&feature=player_embedded

I would like to toast the toasting at the jazz concert.

The Stacey Kent concert was amazing. If you like jazz...well then you would love her. My sister, Ashley, and I went to dinner at my new favorite restaurant, Cucina, an adorable little Italian cafe/deli downtown and then hit the Sheraton for some sweet lovin' jazz. There were many people around us drinking their wine and mingling until we all settled in for a enchanting performance. I was fascinated by the wide array of people attending: some were dressed formally, others were in jeans. I love that. People do what they want and in doing so you can tell what kind of person they are. People watching--you can't beat it. Stacey even sang some pieces in French--and I understood some of it. I love that.

Makin' a Toast.

The idea of making toasts originated not with me, but with some friends as we ate dinner one Sunday afternoon at the Cheers house. After having a delicious meal, we began to make toasts and they gradually became more expansive and creative. “I would like to make a toast to dance parties.” “I would like to make a toast to slipping on the ice during the winter because it makes people laugh.” “I would like to make a toast to making toasts.” We’d then cheer and sip from our Italian sodas. After this date, I have made silent “toasts” in my mind; something akin to noticing the “tender mercies of the Lord” about which Elder Bednar taught in conference not too long ago. Said Elder Bednar:
“We should not underestimate or overlook the power of the Lord’s tender mercies. The simpleness, the sweetness, and the constancy of the tender mercies of the Lord will do much to fortify and protect us in the troubled times in which we do now and will yet live. When words cannot provide the solace we need or express the joy we feel, when it is simply futile to attempt to explain that which is unexplainable, when logic and reason cannot yield adequate understanding about the injustices and inequities of life, when mortal experience and evaluation are insufficient to produce a desired outcome, and when it seems that perhaps we are so totally alone, truly we are blessed by the tender mercies of the Lord and made mighty even unto the power of deliverance.”
I’ll make a toast to that.

I would like to make a toast to my Disney Channel TV series life.

Although I don't feel as if I have anything interesting to say nor enough time to say it, I have begun a blog. I was not familiar with the practice until I was coerced to manage my boss' blog; however, I am a little bit excited to share my thoughts to whomever cares (or needs some entertainment). I never considered my life funny until I began to share stories with friends at BYU. I quickly gained the reputation that my life is a Disney Channel television series. I don't know what that means but I'll pretend it's a good thing. I can usually get a laugh when I mention my dating life, too. Just ask me about my experience in blind dates. I loathe them, yet my roommates claim they have never met anyone who has been set up on more than I. Why do people set me up? Do I look desperate? Lonely? Really, I'm not. I don't particularly dream of a dating life like that of a nun's, but I'm not sure I needed the blind date experience I gained from Nubs, Chips and Salsa and 6' 7". Let me explain.
My friend, Mekayla Daw, is married. Below is a picture of her on her wedding day with her bridesmaids (Janessa is on the left--she also comes into play in this story).

Mekayla was nearly engaged this summer when her older sister, Mekenzie, wanted to set her up with a friend from the U. When Kayla realized that dating anyone else besides Kip was not an option, she turned to my single friend, Janessa, deciding to set her up with the man from the U. Janessa, of course, didn't want to go alone on a date with a strange man, so she pulled me along and asked the U man to get a friend to take me out. The fateful day arrived and I excitedly readied for the date. The doorbell rang and on my porch I found two men with Janessa. John (name has been changed) held out his hand to introduce himself and I cheerfully told him it was nice to meet him, I'm Kelsey. I then turned to the man whom I assumed was my date. I held out my hand to shake his and he held his out--unfortunately, he didn't have a hand. I blinked approximately two times and stared at the Nub hanging out for me, and he simply said, "Go ahead, just shake it. Shake it like a paw!" Fighting back the urge to go inside, shut the door and hide under my bed covers, I grasped his paw and shook it firmly, laughing it off in hopes of easing the nearly tangible awkwardness in the air. Poor Janessa was fighting to hold back her laughter because as I later came to find out, she, too, had been surprised at the handless handshake and had stood there and stared at it for a while before realizing she had to shake it. Needless to say, the rest of the date was unique. We enjoyed dinner at the classy Applebees and then retreated to my date's house where the boys decided to watch a scary movie (presumably in hopes of getting us scared enough to cuddle with them. Unfortunately for my date, I was more afraid of the Nub than the movie). Poor Janessa got caught in the arms of John the Octopus, so as they got cozy during the dumbest scary movie ever (don't see The Orphanage), I sat comfortably in my own space; my date had unfortunately sat with his Nub side nearest to me. Good luck holding my hand, buddy. Now, honestly, the date was fun and he was a nice guy. I was just sincerely thrown off by the handless handshake that began the evening. Surely I won't be surprised by any blind date again, right?

Wrong. Chips and Salsa definitely threw me for a loop. I was set up by a married friend with her husband's best friend and the plan was to get a group of people and go shooting. I had never gone shooting before so I was pumped. They drove up with my date in the back seat of a severely tinted car, so I felt his eyes checking me out as I stood with the rest of the group in the driveway and squinted in vain to see him. He sat in the car much longer than necessary and finally got out. Impressive. The guy was good-looking, although his style was a far cry than what I was accustomed. He sported a Hollister t-shirt and designer jeans. I hate to judge and categorize, but...I admit I got a good feel for what I was dealing within that first 5 seconds. We then went shooting and he enjoyed showing off his shooting skills with the smallest rifle there. Ooh. I took my turn with the huge shotgun and knicked a clay pigeon--a feat about which I was very proud. Dinner at Chili's was next and the boys were watching the game while the girls chatted. My date then began quizzing Janessa (yes, she was on this date, too) and me on sports facts, as if I care. Sure, I like sports, but I don't memorize the players' names nor the stats. I'm in school and I don't have a working television. Gimme a break. He was looking down on me for not knowing my sports players and soon I got a little annoyed and I began quizzing him on facts that he presumably wouldn't know. It wasn't too hard. The chauvinist began to get a bit indignant that I knew stuff that he didn't and he finally dipped a chip in the salsa and shoved it in my mouth, cutting me off midsentence (and cutting my mouth). Aww, cute. Somehow, throughout the night, he became interested in me (ya, I don't know) and he told me to drive us all home merely because he discovered I could drive a stick. When I wasn't going, he rubbed his hand all the way down my leg to my foot on the gas pedal and pushed. I about had a conniption and, needless to say, we arrived home in very good time. The best part? When he asked if he could call me again sometime and I just stared at him for a moment and said, "Uh huh," and strolled inside to the safety of my home.

My wonderful friend, Mary, is also married, and being the sweet girl she is, wanted me to be happy like her. She then decided to set me up on a date with a nice guy in her ward. She informed me that he was 6' 7" and good-looking, so I was looking forward to feeling small for once in my life. The date began nicely enough: we chatted for a while on the couch and found a love for reading in common. I liked that. He then asked me, "You know what I miss? I miss two things: having a girlfriend and being on a mission. I guess I can't have both, huh?" He laughed at his own joke as I shifted uncomfortably on the couch. The date continued and we got drinks from Jamba Juice and strolled in the nice weather. He then asked me in front of Mary and her then fiancee, "Kelsey, what do you look for in a man?" I looked at him with a blank face and slightly open mouth, grasping for something to say. Was he going to get out a piece of paper and jot my list down? What if I said, "I like a guy who is 6' 2". Oh, I guess not you!!" Or what about, "I like guys to be tall...about 6' 7"...and they have to like reading. Hey, we're perfect for each other!" Either way would have turned out really awkward. Poor Mary, in an effort to salvage the moment, began joking what she would like in a man, listing the qualities of her fiancee. We laughed and the subject was tossed aside, thankfully. Mary is the blushing bride below.

Now, although these sound excrutiating, I had fun and gained some good experience. Plus, I have some good stories to get a laugh. My life--it's a Disney Channel TV series and I love it. Somehow, when ridiculous things happen, there is always something about which to laugh and it all turns out alright, suspiciously like Even Stevens or That's So Raven. Maybe someday they'll make it a TV show. For now, I'll just enjoy sharing the stories.