Mormon Dating

> : ( Those right there, those are my angry eyebrows. I only use them on very special occasions, but I am using them now. What, you may ask could bring on such an angry and hateful emoticon? Let me tell you a story that will eventually devolve into a diatribe.

Last night I went to a dating panel put on by my one of my bestest friends Tawni. I didn't go because I have so many burning questions about dating. I don't. I also didn't go because I feel like it could help me solve any dating problems I might have. I knew it couldn't. I'm antisocial, apathetic, and was fed up with dating at a very early age. A panel isn't going to help that. I went because Tawni was nervous about it and thought it was going to tank, and because that's what good friends do. I showed up less than enthused and left two and a half HOURS later feeling awkward, angry, and disgusted with how dating works in Utah. What happened in those two and a half hours? Nothing particularly unusual for a dating panel. Three dudes answered our questions and gave us "advice." I guess it was timing or something but it finally hit me just how messed up Mormon dating in Utah is. For those of you who don't know, it's really really messed up.

Here's my view of how things work in Mormonia and why its a horrible horrible system. Starting at age 12 in Young Woman's I, and many other Mormon lasses like me, endured I mean recieved countless lessons on the importance of marriage and how marriage should be our ultimate goal and how our aim in life should be to find a nice returned missionary with whom to settle down and start popping out munchkins. But no until we're 16. And then we graduate, the majority of the graduating class goes to a BYU or to UVU and does just that. They find a man whom is cute and charming. They date for a couple of months and get married. Then they start churning out child after child. 20 some odd years later when all their kids have left home they realize that they don't know one another, and never really did.

Ok, maybe that's too harsh, but I see it happening all around me. And I see girls who want that, and only that. And it makes me sad. Not because I feel like this is a horrible path to go down. For some people it works, they are happy and it's great. It makes me sad because of all the girls who base their happiness and self esteem on making that their life. Girls who cry themselves to sleep because they aren't getting asked out on dates. Girls who feel worthless because they are 21 and not married. Girls who hide their beautiful, and wonderful quirks under layered tees and long straight hair so that they pre-med guy in their institute will maybe ask them out on a date. Girls who are afraid to live because that's not what life is about.

Then there's people like me, acutally specifically me. I'm 20 years old and still feel years away from being ready to be married. I don't care that I haven't been asked out on a date months, or that I haven't had an actual boyfriend in... awhile. And I am absolutely fine because who I am doesn't depend on someone else. I mean sure, sometimes I think a boyfriend would be nice, but having one isn't essential. I can live my life without a hunk of burning man love in it. And maybe that's going to get me in trouble later on. Maybe I'll end up 35 living alone with a lot of cats. But I think I'd rather be there, having lived life, and found myself and done things my way then to be 35 with 6 kids and a husband I don't even know if I love.

Maybe I'm crazy. Maybe everyone else has it right. Maybe I'm just a bitter feminist man hater. But then again, maybe I'm on to something and this system is broken and needs fixing.

Spring Break Rewound

I think my mom hit the nail on the head when I was on the phone with her this week and she said "Jessica, you just need find a man with California residency and marry him, like now, so you can live in California forever." All I can say is that my mother obviously knows best. I can safely say that last week was the best spring break ever and I never wanted to go home. Alas, I am home and am now going to blog a highlight reel so that I can share my joyous week with you and remember it forever. Feel free to stop reading here, this is a really wordy post and as I still like to pretend I don't have readers sometimes I'm really doing this for my benefit and the benefit of my posterity and junk like that.

Saturday: What do you say we leave for California? I say ok. 11 hours of driving does things to a person. Specifically it makes Bridger( my travel companion) sing a metal song of his own creation. as we descend into the bowels of hell aka Vegas. I can't get into too many details but apparently Vegas feeds on the blood of homeless orphans. It also breeds the creative juices required to play gummy scrabble.

It's true. I've met quite a few Teradactals and none of them have been pleasant.

Sunday: Arrive in California at 1, stop and gaze longingly at the beach, go to Bridger's Grandpa's house, sleep. Wake up to a typoon. No joke, it was a typhoon. Go to the UCLA ward, where my axieties about being reunited with everyone shrinks and my overwhelming hatred for singles wards grows. Cook dinner with Biakahashi, tacos with a lovely purple squeeze it pairing. Watch a japanese movie. Eliminate pronouns from sentences. Back to Redondo Bridger and I go.

Monday: As per instructed I slept in and awoke to find Bridger up, fed and showered. Awesome. We walked down the to the beach, with awesome cocking umbrellas, and strolled to the pier, and then right past the peir to this delicious seafood place. I don't even know what I ate but there were clams and mussles and crab bits and fish and deliciousness. Then we walked back past all the afore mentioned places. Then we went on a bike ride down the beach. Beach biking is awesome because it's flat and you never get tired, although you can still get sore and bruised from the bike seat. After returning from the uber awesome pedal fest it was time for the beach. Now the water was way to cold to do much frolicking but just the right temperature for some skim boarding. I'm not good at this activity, I was bruised by this activity, but given my lack of success on any other sort of board (sans wake boarding) I also wasn't surprised. A day full of butt bruising was followed by a dinner at the Sizzler. It was payed for by Bridger's wealthy grandfather who has an unusual taste in restaurants. The night was ended by a viewing of "Unstoppable." I wouldn't recommend it.

Yeah, I ate all of that, and it only cost me $6.50.

Tuesday: Woke up early...ish so that Bridger and I could go to the farmers market in Torrance. It was pretty cool and I got delicious sinus clearing Thai curry at 10 am. What could be better? Walked down to the beach and just sat and talked about life, and how Bridger is going to woo his current prospect. According to him he's got it in the bag. After this next date she's going to be enamored. Confidence is key. We then drove to LA, westwood. We went to Chris Takahashi's place and played DJ hero, which is a little lame in comparison. Then it was off to K town with a bunch of my old UCLA peeps for delicious soon tofu and Karaoke! I rocked it, it was awesome. There were only a few awkward moments. It was grand.

Shell art by Bridger. Shells found by Jessica

Wednesday: Congrats reader you made it to hump day! If you're still reading my mindless recalling prattle pat yourself on the back. Slept in, it was glorious. Lazed about my old pad before catching the big blue bus down to UCLA, where I immediately stopped in to see my parking peeps. Besides the massive number of people who have been fired for no reason it's basically exactly the same. Leo's still ballin', Luis is still crazy,and Elroy is still creepy. Good times. Then Biakahashi, Bridger and I started our planned trip to Pomona to see a drive in movie. Three hours of LA traffic later and we get to the place, it's pouring rain, and closed. Well, thnks fr th mmrs I guess. Oh and the terrific burrito shack we stopped at.

Thursday: Slept in, again, and then excessively didn't shower because I was waiting for a maintenance guy to come. I love not showering. That's a lie, I love showering. I promise. Then I went to John Maritn's house with Aaron and watched BYU lose. Take that Jimmer! That's what you get for keeping the name Jimmer. It's a horrible name. After that it was more basketball paired with Fajitas at Aaron's place. We talked like old times. Scott put up with us for a short time and then disappeared, just like old times. Nick talked about weird stuff, just like old

times. I'm sensing a theme here. And then Kristina and I stayed up and talked, because we be adorbs like that.

Friday: Woke up early, expecting to go hike the Hollywood sign. That didn't happen until like 2. Also the Hollywood sign, not worth hiking to. Like at all. But hiking is worth doing. Go physical fitness. Once we (the 4 of us mention wednesday) got home the men got their domestic on and made delicious japanese noodle soup stuff. It was good. Then we drove to Orange County, to Chris' parent's place. We didn't go swimming. The pool in his gated community was closed.

Lame.

Saturday: BRIDAL SHOWER! For Moena. This event may cause a post later on about my hatred of bridal showers. They are dumb and go on FOREVER! Then it was on to some tide pools in Laguna Niguel. They were so super cool! I saw anemones! The were so super cool! I love sea life! and the ocean! and life! After that we actually got to swim in the gated communities pool. It was all salinated which means no chlorine which is good. I don't like hot tubs. Chris' mom cooked a totally bomb dinner that was absolutely delicious and faboulous and wow. I need to send a thank you gift. Memo to me. Then we drove back to LA and then Bridger and I drove back to Redondo Beach.

View from the top of the world

Sunday: Spring Break comes to an end with the long drive back to the beehive state which included a stop in Vegas to see an old mission comp, a stop in Kanosh to be fed and visit the grandfolk, and lots of deep conversation.

YOU MADE IT! Sorry this is so long. I really wrote this more for me because I type faster than I write and didn't want to find my journal. Sorry if you suffered, but as I might have said before this blog is for me, not for you. HAHA suckers.

CALIFORNIA!

So in a mere 3 ish hours I will be on the road to California. That means in a slightly less mere 14 ish hours I will be IN California once again. And I am SO FRAKKING EXCITED! Yes, I did just mentally yell that. But at the same time, I'm a little nervous. Why would I be nervous to go back to a city I love with people I love? Why would I be nervous to go back to the last place I was truly happy? I think it comes from the fact that I haven't been to California since August. That means that there are two quarters between me and the last time I've seen everybody, and people change. I guess I'm scared that they've been living their lives together, growing closer, changing, developing inside jokes, become BFsF and all that. And what have I been doing? Becoming more cynical and sarcastic, spending a lot of time reading books and watching movies alone, deciding that I'm going to watch my friends mary one by one and end up living alone with cats. What if we're too different? What if they hate me? They won't, but still, I worry about things like this. Welp, there's nothing I can do about it now. Love me or hate me I'm going to be in California for a week and that is really what matters.

Home sweet but temporary home.

This weekend I went home to Mapleton. I had some revelations. I will reveal them to you now. I'll call them my re-revelations.

1)I could not live at home again. I love my family, so much. I love my house, it's cool. But I love my freedom more. I love not doing chores. I love being able to say no when my dad jokingly tells me I should wash the dog. It's great, and I couldn't live happily without it.

2) I like being self sufficient. Sure working all the time blows. I would love to have more free time. But I also love not having to turn to my parents for every little thing. It gives me peace of mind for some strange reason. I don't feel like a leech which is nice because leeches are gross.

3) Despite all this I like having parents that don't expect me to cover all of my needs all the time. Especially when we go on little mini shopping sprees, and I get new clothes and shoes. And when they have delicious food that I like but can't afford. It's nice having a cushion that I can fall back on.

4) If I could have a free, no consequences or eternal damnation, one night stand with anyone it would be Daniel Tosh. He's too crass to date or marry, but also really attractive and hilarious. Basically he is hit it and quit it material.

So those are my revelations that I just revealed to you. It should be obvious that when I go home I have very deep thoughts.

Second Place Loser

Before I get to the real meat of this blog I feel I need a sort of pre blog statement slash warning, so here it is. I have great self esteem. I love me. Also I am cute. I have a nice face, good body, great brain and sense of humor and on more than one occasion I have caught a man "checking me out." I don't want to sound smug or braggy. I just want to inform you all that I am 100% ok with me, and this blog is not a way for me to pick up compliments. So you know, don't pity compliment me or anything. That being said, here goes the actual blog part of the evening.

I have noticed a weird phenomena since I have moved back to Utah. I think it has to do with the fact that I am no longer hanging out with a lot of dudes like I was at UCLA. Now that I'm in Utah I hang out with a lot more females. There are two females in particular that I hang out with a lot because well I like them a lot. We, and by that I mean I, will call them the Janes. Why am I calling two people by one name? Because they are very similar. They are both what you might call "knock outs." They have long hair that's always styled, perky chests that are always well displayed, they dress well in clothes that are both super fashionable and super flattering, they know how to accessorize and they always have perfect makeup. They are also very flirty, not in the bad way, just in the can't help it sort of way. Hanging out with the Janes is always fun, but I have noticed something happening when I hang out with the Janes in a setting where men are involved. Mostly it's that men gravitate to them. If it's the me, a Jane and one guy (or two or three or more) the guy(s) will talk to both of us, but hit on the Jane. It's funny. I mean it's not like I'm a grenade or anything, I'm just second place. It doesn't matter if the male in question and I listen to the same music, laugh at all of my witty comments and seem to have similar tastes in life, it's never me they want. The men are Tarzan and they want Jane.

I don't really know where I'm going from here, because I don't mind it. I can't flirt, or socially interact well at all, I know this, I move on. I just have found it happening over and over again and felt the need to recognize and express my feelings. I won't change, males won't change, life won't change, but at least now I have a name for my self when it happens. I am the second place loser. Rock on.

Mother dear I love you so!!!

I walked down the drive way, anticipation filling my heart and resonating through my every step. The rap music could no longer keep my thoughts from drifting to the endless possibilities that my doorstep held. I walked down the side walk, and rounded the corner to my front door. "That's odd," I thought, "the screen door isn't even sticking out. Oh well, maybe it' small." I opened the screen door, peering expectantly at the ground. Nothing. My heart sunk like a rock, and not the very small kind that float. It hadn't come. It was supposed to come, but it hadn't. Dejectedly I pulled the key from my wallet and stuck it into the lock, turned it and gave the door a half hearted push. It didn't open. I jiggled the handle and pushed a little harder. Nothing. The deadbolt was turned. That means my roommate is home! That meant that there was still a chance! I hastily raised my key to the deadbolt. Turned it hard to get it past the stick. Heard the click and turned the knob, excitement coming for the possibility of what might lie within. I opened the door and...

Actually maybe I should explain first. This week, which I'm saying started on sunday so deal with it, started out long and got longer. Sunday I was at church for eight hours. Eight. And so to relieve my stress, and get some advice on a medical issue (my hands and feet go numb and tingle) I've been having I called my mom. We talked about the possibility of my impending doom and then other stuff. Like the tax stuff she is sending me with my stuffed hippo pillow pet Horatio. Then she gasped and told me I had to check the mail on Wednesday. I didn't know whether to be concerned or not. She told me not to be, just check for a package on Wednesday. Needless to say my expectancy levels had been climbing steadily. The only thing that got me through today was the joy at having a mystery package waiting for me when I got off work. That being said I will now return to my story.

... There it was. In all it's brown, cubeish glory. Sitting on the arm of our love seat reclining lazy boy thing of ugliness. I snatched the scissors off the coffee table, because who doesn't have scissors sitting on their coffee table and began work on the tape. It could be anything inside this box. A bunch of candy, some educational supplies, a car. The possibilities were endless asI could see them all laid before me in my minds eye ripe. As I sliced through the final taped up tab and peered into the box I could not believe my eyes. Sitting side by side, curled together like they are already best friends was a pink hippo and a mini stuffed mono. My mom, beautiful and wonderful woman that she is not only read my blog about my four year old wants she indulged me. She searched high and low and found me not one but two, and kind of three cuz the hippos isn't purple, of the things on my list. And she's looking for a cactus.

So I guess I just wanted to give my mom the public props she deserves. Not only does she help self diagnose me AND listen to my rants AND offer great life advice, she gets me all the stupid crap I could ever want. So if you're reading this, I LOVE YOU MOMMY! Don't ever change. Ever. And dad, if you're reading this and/or helped in the picking out of this gift replace the word mom in the previous post with the word dad. Actually even if you didn't pick Henrietta and Mono out this still applies to you. And I promise to devote a post to you at a later date. I love you guys.