I dreamt in cryptic passageways, only I could see

As dark and cold as it became I felt warmth in my palms.

Visions of all sorts of emotion towered over me

Your breath fell on my fingertips, singing bleeding songs.

Seconds later the room lit to pale lace

Your sparkly eyes caught hold of mine.

Confidence and patience written on your face

Your words, "one day at a time."

Suppose for just several seconds I forgot the sound

My guard fell down, my heart collapsed

And no one was around.

Again, the image of your hand grazes mine

Your voice loud in my head.

"I'm coming back for you, I meant what I said."

templars

As if going to the temple wasn't already the best experience ever, try going with your little sister. It makes a significant difference you never knew could happen. Dead serious.

Two weeks ago, Savannah turned the magical #12 and therefore, is now able to go inside of the temple. I've been waiting for her to turn twelve for years, now, for this exact reason. I've always wanted a reliable temple buddy, and now I have one. The cutest, sweetest one. I win when it comes to the game of lucky.

Since Savannah has been able to, we've gone every Wednesday. All two of them. But it is a tradition we will definitely keep up with, no doubt about it. There is something about the temple that just makes you want to go there again and again and again. Savannah and I are both really feeling it.

I'm so lucky. So lucky. 

• Savannah can go to the temple with me
• There is a temple only 15 minutes away from my front porch
• I'm LDS

So lucky - what did I tell you?! 

It is possible this is one of the most unattractive photographs of me, yes, but here we are leaving the temple. {I really tried to get the actual temple in the background behind us, but the sun was bright, I'm bad at self-portraits, and we had to hurry Savannah back home for Young Women.}

i hate the fact that i've been forced into being a morning person

I like to look cute. When I go out for the day, I like to be ready. I like to look presentable. Usually. However, waking up at 5-5:30am most mornings, sometimes puts a damper on my lets-get-cute-and-ready attitude. I still try to look at least socially acceptable, but the outcome is never what it would normally be if I woke up at 9 or 10 and had 1-2 hours to get ready. 

The typical Monday/Wednesday/Friday morning goes as follows, typically, for me:

• Roll, grumpily and very sleepily out of bed at 5:15ish, usually
• Say my prayers
• Put on my outfit I chose the previous night
• Stick my iPod in my ears
• Wander up two floors to my bathroom
• Put in my contacts
• Put on my make up (depending on how good i woke up that morning, decides how good my make up will look...aka the time i will spend on it)
• Brush and floss all my teethies
• Put on deodorant 
• Brush my hair
• Do my hair (same rules apply as with my make up, here)
• Drench myself with my body spray (vanilla lace=yum)
• Find some comfy shoes and put them on 
• Gather up all my school stuff and put it in my giant, cute backpack (on fridays i take my guitar)
• Grab a Cliff Bar and a Chocolate Soy Milk
• Find my keys
• Walk out to my Jeep
• Off to school, goes ChelseaKate - leave by 6:25

The typical Tuesday/Thursday, however goes this way:

• Get out of bed around 7, a little happier on these days seeing as I get to sleep in a little longer
• Say my prayers
• Find a cute outfit (these days i have more time to spend on myself)
• Grab my iPod
• Go upstairs and see what's for breakfast
• Eat breakfast
• Go up to my bathroom
• Put in my contacts
• Do my make up, hair, all that getting ready jazz
• Gather up my school stuff
• Find my keys
• Walk out to my Jeep
• Off to school, goes ChelseaKate - leave by 9:20

There is no typical Saturday. That is my "be spontaneous day."

Sunday isn't too different from school days, except some mornings I'm running around my house like crazy trying to prepare for my primary lesson. Oh, we have church at 9. Um, I can't wait til next year. 11 o'clock church sounds like heaven.

have you?

"Have you ever...

• Stared out a foggy window, waiting for words to land in your palms?
• Promised yourself you wouldn't do something good you once did, that led to tragedy...then did it anyway?
• Felt tears fall from your cheek bones for no reason?
• Assumed the worst and hated yourself for it?
• Had your fragile heart broken?
• Prayed so hard you felt like you were sitting on Heavenly Father's lap?
• Felt raging sympathy for a stranger?
• Got your hopes up so high and when the thing you wanted didn't come...you came crashing down?
• Felt like ending all social ties to anyone and everyone?
• Wished you were that other girl?
• Lied to make yourself seem better to the universal them?
• Been humbled my mother nature?
• Wanted to take the pain from a loved one, hurting?
• Failed miserably at one thing and succeeded brilliantly at another?
• Exceeded your own expectations?
• Put your full heart into something relying solely on trust and faith that it won't get hurt?

...then you've lived."

baby food or baby torture?

Yesterday I was looking through videos on my computer, when I came across this delightful little video. I lol'd. Its stinkin' adorable.

For those of you wondering, this is my cousin, Bea, when she was still a tiny little girl. (fyi: she is almost 3, nowadays.) 

Quite obviously, she did not enjoy that baby food.

Its darling. Enjoy.

Out of the Orbit

I have an adorable friend named, Whitney. A few days ago, she did a phenomenal post that really got me thinking.

The title of her post is as follows: "We all live in our own orbits, but in the creators design of it all, life allows us and leads us into hundreds of other people's orbits... which in return... allows us to grow and understand our grand purpose on this earth."

The big point that I really got out of it, was that we have so many opportunities to interact with other people, who could really end up blessing our lives, but so often, we're so caught up in ourselves, that we end up missing out on all these potentially life changing experiences. We are too absorbed in our own daily lives, to see what else is out there and take those chances. As she put it, we're in our orbits and we rarely take the opportunity to reach out to people, learn about them, and learn from them. I love when she says, "people are our greatest resource."

Her post goes on to explain all the benefits of letting our orbits interact with others orbits. Think about it, we can learn so much from people, we can gain so much and definitely come out better people because of it. ...so why aren't we doing it?!

She ends her post leaving her readers with a challenge. The challenge? Reaching out to someone. Talking to someone, alone or not. Get out of your comfort zone, a bit and reap the blessings of doing so.

I'm taking the challenge. I think you should, too.

Lil Bizzie the birthday girl

HAPPY BIRTHDAY SAVANNAH KLAIRE!!!!!!!!!

Today, my little buggie, Savannah is twelve. Twelve.. Jeepers, she's getting to be a big girl.

Savannah is a lovely little darling. She is the cutest. I love her.

In honor of her big day, I thought I'd list 12 things I like about the little cutie-head.

Although, I could list like...10 thousand billion.

(She is that great.)

1. Savannah is my shadow. She tries so hard to be like me, its flattering. She makes me feel good about myself.
2. Savannah is ambitious. It seems like she is always trying new things, and instantly mastering them. She's my idol, basically.
3. Savannah's favorite color is yellow. In fact, one of the main colors in her room is yellow.
4. Savannah is a pretty dancer. I love watching her.
5. Savannah has hair to die for. Serious. It is long, thick and ridiculously gorgeous.
6. Savannah likes to scare people. She has a knack for hiding in the right place, and jumping out at the right time.
7. Savannah loves animals. Dogs, especially.
8. Savannah is caring. She always is asking how I'm doing, how things are going in my life, and she always listens to me talk, vent, etc. Fabulous.
9. Savannah is tall. I don't know if she's taller than most kids, or if I'm just short, but she is just barely shorter than me. Its crazy.
10. Savannah is creative. You should see some of the stuff this girl makes, draws, etc. Mind blowing.
11. Savannah is funny. She has a cute personality. She's always keeping us laughing.
12. Savannah is my best friend. Adi and I are the luckiest people in the world, because we get her as a sister. She is so reliable, sweet, enthusiastic, supportive and everything else anyone would want in a best friend.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY BIZBANNAH!!

I LOVE YOU SO MUCH, GIRLIE.

lack of...

You know when you're watching a movie and laugh because movies always portray such unrealistic happenings? You know, like the poor, unfortunate soul who goes to work/school and finds that he/she had forgotten to wear pants...

Well, maybe these situations aren't as unrealistic as we thought. Maybe these happenings, happen often.

Because, today, I was that poor, unfortunate soul.

I forgot to wear pants to school today. (No, this really isn't a joke.)

It isn't as bad as it sounds, though. However, it was still bad, not to mention, awkwardly embarrassing.

I wore a (thank goodness) kind of long shirt, some thick tights...and I was supposed to also put on a cute denim skirt. When I was getting dressed, I couldn't find the skirt, so I made a mental note to go find it after I had got the rest of myself ready.

My mental notes don't work very well.

It took me about twenty minutes in the car, on my way to school, to realize...yeah...I'd forgotten to wear anything on the bottom half of me, only tights... Awkward.

You'd think I would have noticed this vital piece of information when I walked out to my car and felt the cold air attack me. Well, sure, I felt it, but obviously paid no mind to it. Oh, how I wish I would have.

Normally, I probably would have been like forget it I'm missing my first class...but I missed it last time and I was sure we had a test today. Simply, I couldn't miss-pants or no pants. (I guess in my case, skirt or no skirt..)

As I said, I was lucky and wore a semi-long shirt. I got to school, pulled it down, down, down and walked as confidently as I could into class. A boy I sit next to told me I looked cute, but he only said that cause he liked that he could nearly see my bum and my skin color was showing through my tights.

Say it with me this time: AWKWARD.

I just hope no one else noticed I was actually skirt-less. Maybe, hopefully, fingers crossed, they just think I'm rockin' some weird style...

The point I'm trying to make is, next time you leave your homes, check yourself. Make sure you have pants on. You think it will never happen to you...but it does. Learn from my mistakes. You don't want the sketchy looks and the embarrassment of walking down a hall lined with people...while you're walking without an important item of clothing.

My outfit...

Yes, thats my skin you can see through those tights, guys.

Close up?

Moral of the post: WEAR PANTS or SKIRTS

or

FEEL REAL STUPID

the choice is yours

Reading...Someday, I will.

Since, forever, I've maintained a strong, love/hate relationship with reading. I've always loved the idea of reading. You know, curling up in a blanket by the fireplace, on a rainy day and getting lost in the world of your text. It sounds so lovely. However, I've never been one to achieve that pretty imagery.

My problem is, I begin a book, and the second something happens I don't like, (which usually seems to be very early on in the book) I put the book down...forever. Sadly, I even did this with books I was assigned to read in school.

There is the rare occasion I finish a book, and enjoy reading it, but this probably happens less than once a year. Here's to hoping with time, I'll change and become that pleasant looking lady, reading, peacefully by the fireplace.

Encyclopedia of Yours Truly

My mommy-dear got this idea from her friend, Landee.

The idea is awesome. So, I, like my mommy, have decided to copy her, as well.

Its a doozy trying to explain this "project" so bear with me.

I'm going to be doing posts...about me. Like...random facts/things about yours truly.

They could be long, or they could be short. You'll never know.

It is called, "Me: The Abridged Version."

The idea behind this, is one day, to compile a book...as my mom put it, an Encyclopedia of Chelsea.

My future family can read through it and learn about good ol' Chelsea and what goes on inside her mind.

Get it?! Kinda-maybe?!

Sorry, I did say it was hard to explain.

Anywho... I'll be labeling these posts as "Yours Truly" or maybe, "M:TAV." Also, I'll label them with whatever letter the post begins with... type thing.

Holy, I feel like I'm blabbering in a different language.

How about this. This: davmarwalker.blogspot.com is my mommy's blog. She explains it better. Read hers, if you feel interested in learning about my "project." I believe the title of her post is, "Well, here goes nothin'!"

Enjoy it.

I guess in the words of my mother, dearest...

Here goes nothin'!

If you love me...

Okay, guys. I'm in need of advice, and sometimes when I ask for advice on this here blog...I don't get any. But this time, I really need it. Okay?! Pleeeaaasse?!?! My feet and my sanity are at stake here.

Heres the deal. I have toilet paper feet.

Toilet Paper Feet: {toy-let, pay-per, feeeeet} A condition in which your feet get torn apart by any, I repeat, any pair of shoes no matter how comfortable they may seem. Sympathy should be shown to those, unfortunate souls, who suffer from such a disease.

This is a serious matter. My. Feet. Kill. KILL. Just ask my family and my friendsies...I always have blisters. Why?! Because I've yet to find a pair of shoes that don't end up making my poor little feet look like a scene on CSI. Its tragic, dears.

Now here is where your advice should come in.

Give me advice on comfy shoes.

Please.

Any pair of shoes, cute or ugly (I don't care at this point about style) that have been comfortable and as close to blister-free as possible.

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE!!!!!!

Thanks. Now I'm off to tend to my bloody pinky toe.

*By the way, today I wore shoes my mom and I refer to as sheep shoes.

The insides are fluffy and appear soft and loving.

But they aren't, apparently.

2

There have been two things really weighing on my little mind lately.

The first? Todd. He's adorable, I love him and I miss him. Pretty much, he is lovely and incredible and every other wonderful word there is. I'm a lucky little lady, friends. Oh, but, also? I miss him. Soooo much I miss him.

The second thing is my freaking adorable, darling, perfect sisters. They've started school, too. I can't believe how old they are. By old, I mean 8 and 11. Thats scary. I remember the days they were both born. They were teeny. They've always been teeny. Then here we are... They're big. They're all grown up and going to 3rd and 6th grade. Savannah is almost taller than me. Adi is sprouting, too. Its insane.

i like to MUITO, MUITO...?

By now, I'm sure you're sick and tired of my Portuguese stories, so I promise this one will be short, but I just had to tell you what I did, today.

In class, we split into groups of three. Of course, I was with Mr. Annoying, and another boy. A very, very sweet, kind RM. We'll call him RM. Our professor listed a bunch of activities on the board we, as a group, could chose to do to help us use Portuguese words...or something along those lines.

The list was something like

• recite a poem together
• count to 50
• sing happy birthday
• sing "i like to move it" from madagascar

Yeah, guess which my group chose? Yup. To sing that stupid "I like to move it, move it" song. In Portuguese.

So the three of us graced our class with, what I'm sure was a beautiful version of King Julian's obnoxious, yet catchy song.

RM and Mr. Annoying had this baby down. RM even drummed the rhythm with his pencil and my pen very seriously.

My version went something like this, ::mumble:: ::mumble:: ::mumble:: muito, muito ::mumble:: ::mumble::

Apparently 'muito' means something along the lines of "move it." Even though I swear it doesn't. I thought that word meant 'very' or 'many.' I guess I don't know as much as I thought I did.

I go to college. I have adventures.

If you've read my previous post, you will recall that there is a boy who really enjoys pressing my buttons in my Portuguese class. Well, I have another story for you, regarding him, yet, again.

K. So I was just sitting in Portuguese, focusing all I could on the lesson, when Mr. Annoying leans over {yes, he sat next to me, again, today} and sets a piece of paper on my desk.

Below, I've scanned in our note... But you just can't read his light pencil, he chose to use. So, allow me to interpret... And give you the background details, too, of course.

He passes it to me, and it says:

"Chelsea

I really admire your work ethic and hard work in class. Don't give up on whatever your dream may be. I can't wait to get to know you better as class progresses.

Mr. Annoying {except, it says his real name}"

I look at the paper, don't touch it, read it, then look back up at the professor. Aka I ignored him.

Mr. Annoying sits there, staring at me, for a few minutes, then leans over, grabs the paper off my desk, scribbles some words on it, and hands it back to me.

I read what he said... It looked like it said "doss Gack." I don't know what that means, though. So I ignored it. Then he leaned over, again, and whispered evily, "Pass back!"

I decided to have some fun with him, so I picked up the paper, and passed it back to him. He grabbed the paper, glared at me, set it back on my desk and told me I had to write on it.

So, then I write:

"Oh, thanks!"

...and pass it back...

He writes, passes it back to me:

"I can help you with your portuguese since your so behind"

{what a poo. why would he say that?!}

I write back:

"Well, thanks, but I'm doing study group and signed up to go to the tutor and, I know some people who can help me out."

I pass it to him, he passes it back... (I felt like I was in fifth grade with all this note passing)

"Your waisting paper"

Uhm.. What? Thanks, dude.

I mean, really. I don't even know what he meant by that.

Oh, and by the way, I'm spelling everything as he spelled it. I didn't make those spelling and grammar mistakes, just so you know.

I take a minute...and write back:

"Okay : )"

He takes it, glares, again...his favorite facial expression, I think, and writes back:

"Whatever"

I didn't pass the note back, after that.

Here is the original, hard-to-read copy.

He's just adorable, right?! He is the creepiest slash worst flirt I've met, and believe me, I've met some weird and creepy flirts, before! Here is what really bothers me, though. I wear a wedding ring to school...its job is to ward off weird-ee's who may try to come onto me, and usually, it works. Not this time, though, of course. With my moms help, we decided next time he tries to "flirt," I'm going to have to give him the speech, "Hi, I'm married, my husband wouldn't approve of your creeper actions, I suggest you stop..." You know, that kind of stuff..

So that was that.

Then, I'm walking back to my car. More like, I'm hiking back to my car, up and down the 702.69 stairs I have to travel across and up the multiple hills, that are all most likely a 98 degree incline, and at the first cross walk I cross, a big, white "pimped-out" suburban pulls up next to me with a handsome looking college boy, who politely asks, "Can I drive you to where you need to be?!" Sure, sure, he was attractive, but my inner stranger-danger alarm was going BEEEEEP BEEEEP BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP!!!!! I turned him down, telling him my car was just up that hill {that really, really steep, hot, dirty hill} and that I'd be fine. He then continues with, "are you sure? Its kind of a long way..." "Its hot outside..." "Its no problem for me..." Ick. Don't worry, I stuck to my gut feeling and kept rejecting his not-so-kind-sounding-now, offers, and went back to walking up the hill of evil. That guy wanted me in his car waaaayyy to badly. Again, I say it, ick.

Then, I'm about mid-hill, and a little beat-up, quite dumpy looking greenish/brown car pulls up to me. Guess what was inside?! Mr. Annoying!!! GAH! Can't catch a break! "Hey, Chelsea, can I drive you to your car or your apartment?!"

First of all, ew. Second of all, ew. And third of all, H no! you can't Mr. Annoying! Why would I want you knowing where I live or what my car looks like!

I told him, not as sweetly, as I did the first guy, my car was just in the parking lot to my right and I'd be fine. Mr. Annoying continues with, "We should talk and get to know each other, more!" This time, I glared. Said, no thanks, and the car behind him honked and he drove away.

Dear Driver of the Car Behind Mr. Annoying,

I love you. We should be friends.

Love, Chels

That was my college adventure, today.

Since I was at school, and I just get filled with knowledge there, let me briefly tell you what I learned.

1. Mr. Annoying is still really annoying, and writes stupid notes.

2. Even handsome guys, in pimped-out suburbans can be freak-show attackers.

3. My inner stranger-danger alarm is working well.

4. I should find a new parking spot that doesn't require so much hiking, etc.

5. My backpack probably weighs more than my dad.