In my genes

I feel very inspired to write about a miracle that has taken place in my life; because hopefully the information I provide can help someone else. I don't normally talk about this, but I've been suffering with major depression for the last 14 years. I've been to multiple doctors, therapists, and psychiatrists. I'd be put on a new medicine and feel a little better, and then a few months later I'd feel just as bad or worse. I've tried all the different classes of anti-depressants, with combinations thereof, and nothing seemed to truly work. However, I do feel like they helped, and am grateful that I had access to them, so please don't discount their role in the mental health field. 

One thing that the medicines were never able to wipe away were the constant thoughts of suicide. I know, I used that word that makes everyone (including myself) grimace. For the most part, those thoughts were like gremlins, locked in a room in a corner of my mind. But I could always hear them banging on the door, or screaming to be let out. Sometimes they gott out, where they grew in size and power to resemble a massive monster of an unconquerable nature.

The only way to keep myself from being harmed from this hideous beast was to lie in my bed for hours on end, hoping and praying for it to go away. There were times when I couldn't lie in my bed. Where I'd be at work and something triggered my mind, unlocking those pesky gremlins. It was all I could do to function, let alone put on a smile and give good customer service. (Please note that I've never attempted suicide, but our judgments concerning those that have should be kept in check).  

I tell you these things in depth that you might better understand where I'm coming from and the significance of my miracle. There's so much more I'd love to ramble on about (the tabooness of mental health in our society being one), but I'll try to get to the point. 

About 6 or so months ago, a friend who struggles with infertility posted about finding out she has some mutated genes which may be an underlying cause of the infertility. She then linked to an article about this particular mutated gene, which goes by MTHFR (for real, that's the acronym). I was curious more than anything, and the article said that mutated MTHFR genes are linked to not only infertility, but also severe depression and anxiety, as well as other disorders. I started to research more, and found that those particular genes help in the process of folic acid and vitamin B, which then build amino acids and other sciencey stuff. It also plays a part in the making of things like dopamine and serotonin (chemicals that affect your mood). 

I didn't really understand the hard science of it, so I won't pretend to be an expert here, but I felt driven to figure out if my MTHFR genes were mutated and if it could be a potential clue to understanding my own treatment-resistant depression. I found out that if these genes are mutated, and you can't process folic acid normally, you need the pure form of folic acid, or folate (please forgive me in advance if my science isn't spot on). Folate is found in leafy greens, like spinach. You can also get a supplement, but, and this is important, you cannot just take folic acid tablets that you get at a vitamin store. It will do nothing for you. You actually have to get a folate prescription from a doctor -- they call a medicinal food. There are a couple of kinds, but the kind I started taking is called L-methylfolate. When I saw my doctor, he had never heard of MTHFR, but he was willing to give me the L-methylfolate because well, why not? It basically is just a vitamin. No side effects. 

The second thing I did was to find out if my genes were mutated. Some articles say that you don't have to get tested, that you could start just taking the folate and if that helps then awesome, but I needed to know. There is a company called 23andMe which will map out your genes for $100. They can only give you raw data concerning your genes as it relates to health matters (like if you have genes that mean you are more susceptible to breast cancer, Alzheimer's, etc), but there are sites that help you interpret the data (I'm happy to share all those sites if you're interested). It came back that two of my MTHFR genes were mutated. 

I started take l-methylfolate in June, and found out about my genes in July. And here's the miracle of all of it: I am finally feeling happy on an everyday basis, and even more importantly, I no longer think suicidal thoughts on a constant basis. I feel like it took about two months for the L-methylfolate to really take effect. This has been such a huge deal. I realize it can't be measured like the shrinking of a tumor, but I promise you my life has been changed. Just some examples: I keep my room more clean and am more apt to do housework. I laugh more. I'm eating better. **I exercise (which I also give credit to Luna for). 

Doing this research has also helped me realize there is so much we don't know, especially when it comes to our genetics. Yes, we still have agency, but who's to say the man with the extreme anger problem, or the child that can't sit still, or the teenager that can never be serious doesn't have some sort of deficiency that makes it twice as hard for them to overcome a particular weakness?

In closing, I don't want to come across as offering a cure all. Because it's not. I still struggle and have down days, but overall it's made a big difference. It's also not a solution for everybody -- to those people I pray that you'll one day find your solution. I share because someone else shared their hardship, and I was led to one of the biggest blessings in my life. I thank those who are supportive of me, but especially for a loving Heavenly Father and the quiet encouragement from the Holy Ghost to keep going. And for a loving older brother, Jesus Christ, who suffered for not only my sins, but my sorrows. And if you take nothing else from this, just please try to be a little kinder to all those you interact with.  

If you have any questions, I'd love to help answer them!

*TLDR I've discovered my MTHFR genes are mutated; but by taking L-methylfolate, my sufferings with depression have been significantly reduced. If you are struggling with depression, anxiety, and or infertility, you might want to look into the MTHFR genes.

**A note about depression and exercise. A lot of science has said that exercising can improve your mood, and even cure bouts of depression. While I agree with this, I also believe that there are times when people are so sick with depression that saying they'd be cured if they'd just exercise is a huge detriment to their mental status (read -- massive amounts of unneeded guilt). Or because they choose not to exercise, they obviously don't want to be happy. We don't judge people who are ridden with cancer when they're not pounding the treadmill, so why do we do it with severely depressed people? It takes an incredible amount of energy when your body is in survival mode; the thought of going on a walk would make me weep. Or I'd be starving, but afraid to cook something in the kitchen because there are knives in the kitchen and I didn't feel strong enough to fight that temptation, so I got fast food. Basically, try to be less judgmental of others. You don't know the demons they're fighting. End note.  

To Catch a Job

It's no secret I'm on the look out for a new job. I was alerted to a copy writing position that I thought would be a good fit for me. When I started to type up the obligatory "my name is Elissa and please give me this job" email, I thought screw that. I wanted to show these people that I have a funny bone and a creative bone in my body.

I decided to make it look like Entertainment Weekly had interviewed me about my skills as a wordsmith. To do that, I also needed sweet pictures to back up those fightin' words. I roped my dear friend Adrian into a photo shoot that we pulled together in less than 2 days. Seriously, we worked magic.

My favorite aspect is that we were able to get a real anvil. Knowing great people like my friend Mary is like knowing the janitor staff at the Capitol. You get hooked up. The stump that the anvil is sitting on? That'd be fire wood that I rebundled to look like a tree stump. A stump from a stump. We made the legs of the work desk from every hard cover book Adrian owned. I bought a ton of chipboard letters at the HL (Hobby Lobby) and spray painted them black then threw them everywhere. Unfortunately most of the letters didn't even get a cameo appearance in the shoot; but now I have a ton of spray painted black letters if you ever needed to do your own version of Sesame Street.

We set up the shoot on a Saturday morning, and by the time we got it all set up, we only had 20 minutes to do that actual picture taking because I had to go into work. Adrian's an angel and cleaned it all up after. And isn't she a great photographer? She's does weddings if you're interested.

Sunday night I wrote out the "interview" and designed the pages. I'll admit, it's not my best work, but I really wanted to submit it by Monday. You never know when these opportunities will close.

And yes, I did spell out "hire me" with my black letters. It seemed better than silly words like "live," "laugh," or "love."

So far I haven't heard back from them. But if you're another potential employee impressed with my ninja skills, please contact me. I'd be delighted, to say the least.

Here's the interview if you aren't able to channel your inner Superman eyesight:

Elissa, how long have you considered yourself a wordsmith?
Does spelling “change my diaper” in pureed green beans count as wordsmithing? If so, I’d say since I was 10 months old.

That seems abnormally young to be using the written word. Are you a prodigy?
I was a prodigy. Unfortunately, I had to squelch my inner genius for the sake of my parents. I’m sure watching your toddler copy John Grisham novels onto the wall with crayon was a bit unnerving. Instead, I would placate them by playing peek-a-boo for hours; they really loved that stupid game.

We heard that you’ve even written while sleeping.
[Laughs] What can I say, I’m an excellent multi-tasker. While attending BYU-Idaho (where I majored in graphic design and minored in journalism), I would sometimes nod off during class. I didn’t want the teacher to be too offended at their lack of presentation skills, so I’d keep my pencil moving to look like I was writing notes. Sometimes I’d wake up and find I’d written out a dream without remembering it.

Tell me about your brainstorming capabilities
Sorry, no can do. Trade secrets and all. However, I will tell you being a ginger and having no soul grants me special privileges and certain, shall we say, opportunities.

Do you consider yourself a hard worker?
Do I look like a Cyberman? I believe you meant to ask if I work hard. Then the answer is yes. Unless it involves quantum physics or long division; if that’s the case, then I check out faster than Lindsey Lohan leaving rehab. Bless her heart.

You haven’t exactly had a writing job before, yet you consider yourself a wordsmith. Elaborate.
Working at Walt Disney World, driving buses in Alaska, being a copy editor for a small paper, and working in a craft store are all part of my plan to take over the wor … uh, I mean, become a master wordsmith. I like to think of those experiences as manure which has fertilized my idea garden. I tell you, I’ve got some exotic plants growing in my head which are just waiting for the right moment to be harvested.

You lived in Alaska?
Fairbanks, Alaska, to be exact. I even made the choice to stay there a winter. My grandfather may have walked to school in the snow uphill both ways, but I walked to my car in -40 degree weather without the help of my dogsled team or Sarah Palin. I hate to sound prideful, but I’m pretty sure I just one-upped my progenitors.

Well you are just a treasure. Any final words?
I just want to point out that this interview and photo shoot were thrown together in three days. Imagine the things I could accomplish with a team and a paycheck. My name is Elissa, and I’m a wordsmith.

*Yes, I did also send them a regular resume so they knew where I went to school and those kind of boring details.

If you give Elissa a cookie ...

Dear friends and fans,
I realize you are greatly anticipating my post concerning my galvanization into the film world, but I must address something first.

For the past two months, I have made it a goal to limit my sugar intake to two days per week. In this I have been doing very well and am quite pleased with myself come the end of the day.

I'm mainly doing it because I have a slight sugar addiction, but I also do it because it feeds my self-righteousness.

I have been very dedicated and am able to pass up decadent trifle my dear aunt has made, or shake my head at cheap Costco gelato, and even resist the urge to lick the screen while looking at Pinterest.

The holiday season comes upon us, and we all know that means each day is pumped with at least a 304%  increase in sugary goodness. I'm at peace with the forthcoming fructose tsunami and have mentally been preparing for it.

But like any well-written superhero, I have a weakness in my armor.

Gifts of sugar.

You see, when you feel the need to be domestic and bake me supreme chocolate chip cookies that are fluffy in the middle but slightly crisp on the outside -- I cannot refuse such a thoughtful gift. I love sugar to begin with. And I probably love you. So to say no to two loves at the same time would be heralding Armageddon before its due time.

But just save it until one of your sugar days, you say. But I cannot. The wafting aroma of those cookies, though hidden next to the water heater, will permeate my dreams and drive me to madness until I enclose my jaw upon them.

Are you seeing the dilemma you put me in with your lovingly baked gesture?

So this holiday season, as you make your plates of mint brownies and peppermint bark cozied up to gooey caramels underneath seductive rolls of cinnamon -- please don't give me one. It's not that I don't appreciate your friendship or love that you thought of me. It's that I appreciate you thinking of me so much I'm willing to sabotage my own personal goals. This gives me such sweet moments of pleasure, but in the end I feel terrible about cheating myself ... and usually end up with diarrhea as well.

If you can't stand the thought of coming to my door caroling without leaving a token of holiday cheer, know I gladly take cash, check and bank transfers.

You really are just too thoughtful.

Fear

I think we can all say we had unfounded fears as children. I had a couple of unique fears. Like fear of killer bees, O.J. Simpson (although, to be honest, this is a rational fear), the world coming to an end because the paintings of popes ran out of wall space (it was a 20/20 special and that's all my 7-year-old brain got from it ... whoa, tangent. Just understood why the show was called 20/20. As in perfect vision. Good name.), fear of the skeleton lady who sat behind my pillow at night, fear of the vent monster (courtesy X-files). Thinking about it, most of my fears came from TV. Although I'm sure my creative brain would have filled the fear-void with something had I not watched it.

Sometimes, my parents would capitalize on my somewhat paranoid state. Once, I went to the bathroom and when I came out, my whole family had disappeared and the house was pitch black. Instead of looking for them, I immediately ran to my neighbor's house sobbing that my family was gone. Turns out they thought it would be funny to hide from me. But I got the last laugh when I disappeared (to the neighbor's house) and they couldn't figure out where I was.

Now that I'm an adult (can I really say that?) I have different fears.

Fear of a hidden camera in my bathroom.
Fear of all crane flies I've killed coming back to life to attack me.
Fear of being mistaken as Miley Cyrus.
Usual fears.

A fear that I don't have is public speaking. Jerry Seinfeld once said "More people fear public speaking than death. Basically, they'd rather be in the coffin than speak at a funeral." Not me.

I also don't fear being incredibly awkward and making a fool out of myself, mostly for humor's sake. When I was serving a mission in Georgia I went to a transfer meeting intentionally looking ridiculous. Because I knew there was at least one person who would find in hilarious, and I didn't care what everyone else thought. Believe me, a lot of those missionaries later told me it was the first time they saw me and they thought for sure I was one joke away from being sent to the funny bin.

But then there are my deep fears. Fear of never marrying. Fear of failure. Fear of dying alone. Fear of not being remembered. Fear of never making something of myself. Which I'm sure most of us have.

Unfortunately, my fears keep me from my potential. Like writing. I know I'm supposed to write, because I believe I do it well; but then I sit down and fear envelopes me like London fog during a Victorian-themed horror movie. Or designing. My hands start to shake and my head starts to hurt and before I know it I'm rocking myself in bed pretending I'm a hermit crab.

Perhaps it's more anxiety than fear. Whatever it is, it's holding me back and I want it banished. And I realize I'm the only one who can truly fight my own demons.

What I really wanted to get to in this post is that I'm in a transitional point in my life and am facing two doors: mediocrity or potential. The mediocrity door is neutral in color, has a familiar door knob, even has a "welcome" mat printed in Times New Roman. Behind it lies a secure job and a regimented daily routine; but not a lot of fulfilling happiness. I do want to make something clear, I am in no way diminishing the choices other's make. My mediocrity may be someone else's potential, and vice versa. Like they say, one man's junk is another man's treasure.

But the potential door is abstract painted and doesn't even look like a door. More like a black hole with streamers and beads dangling from the top while being sucked into the vortex of unknown. There's no welcome mat. In fact, there's a giant canyon you have to leap over before even getting to the door. Behind it lies the possibility for adventure and growth, but also the possibility for bigger failures. It's an uncertain future financially.

Sitting here writing, I'm reminded of the show Dr. Who. If the doctor showed up at your house and asked if you wanted to travel with him though all of time and space, but with the possibility of death, danger, and disaster at every pit spot -- would you go with him? I think we all would like to say "Hell yes I would!" But has our life reflected this sentiment?

I'm letting you know I've started walking towards the black hole door. I'm shaking in my boots, and it may be some time before I even attempt to jump across that canyon, but I can no longer let fear stop me from living the life I'm most meant to live.

28

I daresay it's about time for another post, don't you agree? And what a more appropriate  time than on my birthday.

I am now 28 years old. Why don't we have a looksie at the past year, shall we? (*This will only be a word journey as picture journeys take too long to upload and now that I'm 28 my days on this earth are numbered and I mustn't be bothered with such frivolous things.)

In the past year (and in no particular order) I have ...

○Driven a 45 ft. passenger motor coach
○Had my heart broken
○Been in a car accident
○Been sued
○Been to California, Utah and Alaska (Washington if we count layovers)
○Survived -55 temperatures
○Seen Mt. Denali/McKinley
○Gone to the Anchorage temple twice
○Seen wild: dolphins, killer whales, humpback whales, seals, otters, eagles, puffins, fox, caribou, moose, humans (no bears yet, don't worry, I'm working on it).
○Taken star trail pictures
○Called to be Relief Society president
○Seen the sun at midnight
○Started watercoloring again
○Started writing a story
○Been to the North Pole and sat on Santa's lap
○Slid down a slide made entirely of ice as well as go through a maze made of ice
○Joined the hipster ranks and got an iPhone/first smart phone
○Survived the Mayan apocalypse
○Worked as a copy editor/page designer at the second largest newspaper in the largest state
○Taken at least one photo everyday since Jan. 1
○Sent off quite a few sister missionaries
○Been the victim of a fender bender
○Eaten moose tacos, moose spaghetti, and bison burgers
○Read too many books to even count
○Watched too many hours of Netflix/Hulu that I should never count
○For making new and dear friends (not deer friends, I could never associate with someone with a name like "Bambie")
○Was a bridesmaid at my cousin's wedding
○Got to create some floral arrangements
○Seen the northern lights
○Went to my first Zumba class
○Found my gratitude journal and returned to writing in it daily (...mostly)
○Bought a car
○Found the unfortunate effects of taking too much caffeine
○Lived in three different places
○Navigated through ice fog (easier said than done)
○Grown my leg hairs to stages where it could be braided
○Took a long walk in the pouring rain

Not too shabby of a year. At times a very cold one, but a decent one.

I'm sure there are other things that I'm missing, and I debated whether I should list every time I fell asleep somewhere I shouldn't have, but decided I can't remember because I was sleeping. But out of all of these things, I think the number one highlight of my year is finding happiness from within. Last summer I was happy, but it was because I was surrounded with fun people and fun times. This winter taught me how to find happiness even when I was by myself; which because I worked nights, I was by myself a lot.

My last day of working at the News-Miner is June 27. I'm really excited. I don't know what life is going to bring me next, but I know it's going to be great. Yes, I'm looking for a new job. No, I don't have a specific job or place in mind. If you think of something for me, please send a bird my way. I'm trying to be open to all possibilities.

Until I turn 29 or my next post (hopefully the latter), I say adieu.

Just how cold is Fairbanks cold? Part I: Cars

In our paper we put a graphic of the state of Alaska with the weather forecast for main cities (all 6 of them). For Anchorage, which is 6 hours south of us, the high was -1 and the low was -8 and the blurb said something like "Sunny and very cold with snow flurries in the evening."

For Fairbanks, the high was -30 and the low was -36 and the blurb said "Some sun and very cold with cold snap continuing through the week."

Let's break this down. The difference between -1 and -30 is 29 degrees. That's the difference between a nice 71 degree day and a hot 100 degree day. You notice how I use different adjectives: nice vs. hot. The Eskimos may have 40 different words for "snow," but apparently anything below 0 is just "very cold." 

Mark Zuckerberg has yet to create the facebook option where you can feel things through the internet, so I'm going to have to explain what -35 is, because I'm betting most of you haven't experienced it.



Fairbanks "very cold" is so cold that you have to plug your car in while you're at work, else your engine, oil and battery would freeze. At many work places, such as mine, they have these posts with outlets that you plug a freeze fancy extension cord into and the other end into a plug coming out the front of your car. They even light up so you know there's juice flowing. 

It's true. I'm cheating. These aren't my pics, but they're linked back to the original site. Don't go too judgmental on me, I'm living in very cold weather.

Now, some people have this sweet device called an auto start for their cars. The device is attached to your key chain and before you go outside you push the button for your car to start so it gets warm before you have to risk your life. It takes about 10-15 minutes, depending on how comfy cozy you want your car to be. Really fancy auto starts have sensors inside the car and if the inside temperature gets below -5, it automatically turns the car on to warm it back up.

I do not have an auto start. I did recently buy a car, and it would be awesome to have one, but getting an auto start installed is about a quarter of what I paid for the car, so it's just not worth it to me.

Because of this, when I get into my car at the end of the night, it is slightly cold inside. I recently bought these extreme gloves that are leather and down goose feather crazy insulated; in fact if I wear them inside for more than 2 minutes my hands start to sweat -- but it's so cold these gloves aren't cutting it because I can feel the cold radiating from the steering wheel. I don't grip the steering wheel very hard.

This concludes this section of "Just how cold is Fairbanks cold?" Stay tuned for more informative reasons on why I deserve lots more gifts this year.

Why I Love Alaska

1. The bumper stickers. Those that say "Tok Alaska: We're not all there because we're all here." Or "Where the hell is Chicken Alaska?" And how could we forget "I can see Russia from my house." As one person pointed out, Alaska bumper stickers are like an inside joke, because the only people most likely to read them are...other Alaskans.

2. Driving erratically because you're watching the northern lights in the night sky.

3. Going on walks when it's 5 degrees and seeing moose only 10 feet away.

4. The crunch of snow. The other day someone said they hated that sound. I'm not sure how they're dealing with everyday life here.

Want to see what I see everyday? This is the arctic cam, which is a real time view from the building I work in, the Daily News-Miner.

This Post May Be Boring

I made it to Alaska.

In case you were wondering, it's cold and dark.

And I'm lonely.

Maybe this should be my eharmony profile. I'm sure the over protective/jealous/chester molester creeps would come slimeing through the wood works.

I moved into the home of the Maynes', basically my adoptive family up here. He's the first counselor in the single's branch and him and his wife and family are just the greatest. They recently became empty nesters, so I made sure to remedy that situation by moving in.

Unfortunately, Deb's mother passed away in Georgia this past Wednesday, so her and Doug flew down there and will be getting back this coming Wednesday.

They have two dogs, Otter (a chocolate lab) and Ali (a black lab mix), and have so far been my only companions. Right now they're fighting...now they've made up and Ali is sniffing Otter's butt.

The Maynes' home is in the hills of Fairbanks, and has a beautiful view of the valley. One day I'll take a picture. Until then, just pretend how you'd draw "Fairbanks valley in the winter" for Draw Something, and it will give you a fairly close idea.

So it's somewhat isolated, which is nice, but also a little scary. Especially being here all by myself. That's why I take the Dall sheep head that Doug has mounted on the wall to bed with me every night. It in no way shape or form causes disturbing shadows.

I'm sure you're all dying to know how my job is going.

I flew in Wednesday at 11 p.m., and started my first day on the job Thursday at 3 p.m. I figured I might as well follow Will Smith and get jiggy with it. Which, by the way, does anyone get jiggy with it anymore?

Tangent: Because I'm writing this in real time, because I have yet to master fake time writing, I'll tell you that I've been keeping updated on the potential tsunami in Hawaii. Last time there was a potentially huge tsunami in Hawaii I fell asleep watching the television coverage. Looks like they were spared again.

Back to the topic at hand.

I wake up, let the dogs out, eat something, and think about being productive as I mindlessly check Facebook (it is imperative to my mental health to know just how many people liked my status). Then I get ready for the day, take the dogs for a walk, come back and check Facebook again, find something else to eat, count the fibers in the carpet, make a lunch, and go to work.

I work as a copy editor/page designer for the Fairbanks Daily News Miner. I have a desk facing other desks (picture "The Office) with a computer, on the second floor of a building with few windows. I work 4:30 p.m. to 12:30 a.m. There are only about 7 of us there during that time, and because everyone is concentrating on their work, it is very quiet. The only noise comes from the police scanner, which most of the time doesn't come in clearly so it sounds like aliens gurgling mouthwash. I think Van Gogh had the same thing in his studio, and I now know why he chapped his ear off.

Everyone has been very nice and polite to me and no one has yet to question my sanity. We'll see how long that takes.

I open pre-formatted templates and insert news stories accordingly. Sometimes I'll place a picture. Then I make sure all the lines are straight and the i's are dotted and I print it. Two other copy editors look over it; I make corrections to errors they've found and then I start work on the next page. While I'm working on my pages, I'll stop to proof pages from the other editors, because every page gets edited twice.

Towards the end of the night I'll upload stories to the website. Then, once my pages are sent to the press, I sit around until 12:30 or the first paper comes off the press (we then do a quick glance over to make sure there are no huge errors), whatever comes first, and then I go home.  

So besides having to remember 109 different style idiosyncrasies, it's fairly simple and straight forward.

And this brings us to the thesis of this post (I've never been one for nutshell versions).

I'm bored.

And I hate myself for it. Millions of people world over do mind numbing work day in and day out and are content with their lives. They're content that they are able to bring home a paycheck and feed themselves and their families and pay the bills. This is the definition of adulthood. And I can't or won't accept it.

Obviously, I'm probably just an ungrateful brat that needs to embrace the monotony of life.

Coming home from work tonight I was thinking about all of this. What would a life without boredom look like?

Things that would not be boring:
1. Getting kidnapped.
However, this would be terrifying. And you'd miss out on the media coverage, and who wants to miss their own 15 minutes in fame?

2. Epic Disaster.
Also terrifying. And I don't relish the thought of some cannibal wanting to eat me (my Uncle was watching the movie The Road the other night).

3. Running for President.
Purely insane. Would shave 26+ years off your life. On the plus side, you could make the Secret Service play hide and go seek with you in the White House.

4. Doing drugs.
I'd do this, but I completed the DARE program in 5th grade, so I just say no to that option.

5. Being a dog with ADHD.
I think this describes Otter. He always seems so happy.

6. Having short term memory loss.
Also may describe Otter. Only problem with this is what if you were having a a not boring time and then forgot about it? The only remedy would be to date Adam Sandler.

And so, as we can see, there doesn't seem to be too many great options.

That's why I decided to eat an ice cream cone and check Facebook. Because telling your friends about your calorie intake via dairy products is definitely un-boring.

I'm With Child/s!

Many of my friends have kids, have a singular kid, have just been through labor to have a kid, or ripening with pregnant bellies.

Alas, I cannot fit any of those descriptions at this time. Okay, sometimes it does appear that I'm ripening to moldy fruit stage when I'm unmotivated to shower, but that's about it.

No, I'm not complaining. Sure, sometimes I feel like my eggs can be categorized under "fine wine," but it's not like I'm going to rob a sperm bank.

Let's just pretend I didn't type that last thought.

I'm the oldest of 6 kids, so I always felt like I was the second mother. Heck, I was babysitting by the age of 5. Oh, I know that probably shocks some of you, because apparently most people think it's highly illegal if not outright bad-parent-of-the-year worthy.

But you have to understand. Anytime my mom or dad would leave the room with both my sister and I in it, I would consider it babysitting. Had I been able to get my hands on a taxi meter, I probably would have started charging my parents, but there is that obnoxiously great quality of saintliness that I do tend to possess -- so I chalked it up to charity work.

I did a lot of charity work as a child.

But I digress. I wanted to dedicate a post to the things in my life that I treat as my babies, so I can feel included in the mommy and daddy club (obviously I haven't reached Platinum Umbilical Cord Member status).

Baby #1 -- My Nails (totes sounds like a card from Apples to Apples, doesn't it?)
Lately I've given birth to an obsession with finger nail polish, specifically on my fingers. I decided clothes can shrink or you can become too fat for them, but finger nail polish lasts forever. Like diamonds. So technically, diamond finger nail polish would last forever ever, but not in the Taylor Swift ever ever sort of way.

I've purchased lots of new colors to feed my growing habit. It's progression is incredible. The great thing about it is when it's really annoying me, I just take a cotton swab of acetone to it. I don't recommend taking a cotton swab of acetone to real babies. Cotton swabs of breast milk are adequate.

Baby #2 -- Reading Books
People say there is something special about cradling a new baby. Babies even have this "baby smell;" somewhat like a new car smell, although I have yet to see a tree shaped air freshener featuring the new baby scent. Well, holding a book close to your bosom can also be special. And books also have their own great smell, unless they're e-readers, then it just smells like China.

What I'm trying to say is -- there's that moment when you look down on a page of text, getting lost in a world of magic and mystery; and you know, without the cooing noises, that this book loves you back. Until it becomes 5 weeks overdue, and then you want to treat it like a redheaded step child. Which I slightly take offense to.

Side note: just finished reading Brandon Sanderson's The Way of Kings. Uber long, but uber amazing.

Baby #3 -- Television Shows on Netflix
Let's be honest, the movie selection on Netflix leaves something to be desired. But what Netflix is great at is having this insane collection of television shows. So many different choices to get addicted to, so little time. It's exactly like these high tech baby monitors where you can watch your baby as he slumbers. Except for these shows are way more exciting and plot driven than the monotonous in and out breathes that a baby takes during sleepy sleepy time. Oh, excuse me. I forgot to mention the occasional drool.

I spend just as much time, if not more, watching shows on Netflix than a parent does watching their baby on a monitor. Whose a better parent now?

Additional side note: just finished Sherlock on Netflix. Big fan.

Baby #4 -- My Bed (another great Apples to Apples card)
Go on any parenting website and you'll find hundreds of forums and advice/debate about getting babies to sleep. You would think that babies never sleep the way everyone goes on and on. But my bed, my Baby #4, it does just the opposite. It puts me to sleep. And I slumber so nicely. What new parents and I do have in common is that horrible separation anxiety thing. Seriously, each time I have to leave my bed, I just want to throw a fit.

You know, writing this makes me feel so much better about life. I may not have my own bundles of joy, but I  have four of my own unique beautiful babies that I get to enjoy. I'm even considering throwing myself a shower and registering at Amazon. Maybe you'll be lucky enough to get an invite.

Someone hired me!

Remember this gem that I wrote? Well, apparently it got me a job. Or someone bribed them to get me a job. Or they felt pity for a California girl deciding to stay for an Alaskan winter.

What happened is they called me up, had a nice little phone interview, then asked me to come in for a real person interview, then told me I had to take an editing test.

An editing test?

It's been 2.5 years since I graduated college. I haven't exactly been writing analytical essays on middle century prose. And I'm a frequent visitor of facebook, and we all know how bad grammar on facebook is (or you're a repeat offender and have no idea -- sorry to burst your bubble).

The first page had 50 words on it and I had to circle the misspelled words. People, that is what the automatic red squiggly line is for when you're typing anything. And it didn't have words like "dawg" or "kat" either. We're talking words like "chauffeur" and "nonchalant" and "graffiti" and "ptarmigan." Okay, not ptarmigan (which, by the way is Alaska's state bird and is pronounced without the p).

Next page had 15 sentences and I had to choose which word was the most correct. As in "Jenny's neighbor had a great (affect/effect) on her."

You feeling my pain?

The third page had more sentences, but this time I had to edit them completely -- spelling, grammar, word choice, AP style, and then translate back into Latin. I skipped that page to come back to until the very end.

Fourth page's title was "General Knowledge." I'm going to type up as much as I remember. Let's see how well you do. I'm going to type my answer first, and the real answer I'm going to type in white so you'll have to highlight the text to see the correct answer. It's kind of like monopoly without any of the fake money!

List the capitols of these states:
California -- Sacramento  Sacramento
New York -- Rochester  Albany
Washington -- Seattle  Olympia
Oregon -- Portland  Salem
Florida -- Tallahassee Tallahassee
Alaska -- Juneau Juneau

Name these people and their political party (I'm just going to out right assume you don't know the first three, because I sure as heck didn't, so I'll just type the correct answer)

Alaska's Governor: Sean Parnell
Alaska's Senators: Lisa Murkowski and Mark Begich
Alaska's Congressman: Dong Young (yeah, they only have one).

United State's Speaker of the House: John Boehner Repulican
Secretary of State: Hillary Clinton Democrat

Then there was a list of notable/famous people that I had to explain why they were notable/famous. There were only three names that I didn't know, so I don't remember them. Others that I did know (or at least think I did): George Lucas, Steve Jobs, 'DWTS', Lance Mackey, John Boehner, Vladimir Putin, Hugo Chavez.

The last part of the general knowledge section was my favorite. It was a math section. We're just going to say I wasn't able to fill in all the blanks, but I am pretty proud of the blanks I did fill in.

Final and last part of this whole boondoggle was I was given these "notes" and told to write a news story. Fairly simple. Probably not my best, but at least I didn't put any made up facts in there (which I was for sure tempted to).

I had 1.5 hours to complete all of this. To be a copy editor they want you to get a score above 75%. I'm telling you right now, the odds are very slim that I got close to that.

Later that day, they called me back, offering me a job. I said I'd think about it, because that's what you do with a grown up job. Unfortunately, I think I already gave away the ending of this story, because the next day I did accept.

Major downside of this job: I'll be working 4:30 p.m. to 12:30 a.m. five days a week. Toodles to the social life. Sigh. At least I am a night owl. And when I leave work there will be no traffic and I'll get the chance to see the northern lights all the time.

I won't start for another 3 weeks, because I'm currently on vacation. More about vacation after I've sipped my pina colada...

Where in the World Is Elissa SanDeGator

Work got really busy. And then it got really unbusy. So technically no great excuses for not blogging. But I made a goal at FHE to blog once a week.

So this is my life plan (and in life plan I mean my plan for this next year. Who really plans out their whole life?):
1. Stay in Alaska for the winter
    Yeah, this one is a little bit on the crazier side. I was trying to figure out where I should go after the bus driving thing ends (it ends next week fyi). I had multiple people pushing for me to move to Utah, but I felt like I would be settling if I just moved to Utah. I didn't want to move back home, because I was pretty sure I'd get back in a rut and maybe never move out. Then I started thinking about living abroad; but that was just an escape from reality, although I still would like to live abroad. And then my branch president said "You should stay here," and I thought "well if that's not the stupidest idea I've ever heard..."
    But I kept ruminating on the prospect and then one day I decided to ask the Lord where I was the most needed and Fairbanks, Alaska was the answer. Not only did I feel good about the decision, I felt delirious joy. I knew it had to be the right decision because people don't feel deliriously joyful about the prospect of living in Fairbanks for the winter.
    I don't know what I'll be doing for work, but I'm looking into it. I already have a place to stay -- the first counselor in the branch presidency and his wife offered for me to stay with them. I also have to purchase a car.

2. Do some sort of work up until August 2013 and then

3. Be cool like Madison and become a graduate student for a Creative Writing degree.

A couple of hiccups that are still stuck in my throat -- taking the GRE and compiling a writing portfolio that will fool the admissions board into admitting me.

I did buy a "study for the GRE" book, and have read the stuff that pertains to writing and vocab. I have yet had the muscle to read the stuff that pertains to math. I should drink more protein shakes.

If any of you have great writing prompts/stuff I should write about, I will take them into consideration. No prize money will be given out at this time.

Speaking of the greater white North, businesses have already started putting out Christmas decorations. Because apparently it's much easier to do it now while the weather is still warm enough. Hanging wreaths at -30 has caused too many worker comp suits. That's what they tell me, anyway.

The other hard part about all of this is that grad school seems so far away. It's almost a whole year before it starts! I fear that something will happen, like I'll marry an eskimo man and have to make ice cold love to him in his igloo, and I won't get to go to grad school. I know, I know, the Lord knows what is best and everything will work out.

This has been another "well that post was boring and all over the place" post from Elissa. Stay tuned to see if she stays on top of her goal.

Weddings, Food, Weddings, Holidays, Weddings and NEWS!

Oh my word. Word being "do you remember what blogging is dear Elissa?" Let's get to it, there's quite a bit to cover, and at the very end I have some news I'd like to share with you. I'll forgive you if you scroll through most of this, but I won't forgive you if you don't jump up and down once you find out my news at the end. No, I'm not engaged -- we'll just nip that in the butt right here and now.

Waaaaaaaay back in November of 2011 (you know, the year before the year of the end of the world) I went on a fancy schmancy semi-formal dance date. The evening included convincing the waitress that we had just attended a Voodoo wake/funeral where there was dancing because that's what you do at Voodoo funerals. They believed us.

My date, Cameron, and I pride ourselves in knowing it was because of us the party got started. We also would run around people who were sitting and try to convince them to dance. They weren't as convinced as the waitresses.

The week of Thanksgiving my family and I headed up to Idaho for a cousin's wedding (in which you would think there would be pictures, but nay, I cannot find any) and then back down to Utah for some food love (most people just call it Thanksgiving). We had two tables of pies. With pie labels.

Then two weeks later, I went back up to Idaho for Rachel R's wedding (now Rachel H). I had designed her invites and they were put in these sweet pocket envelopes. When I get off my lazy toenails, maybe I'll take a picture of the whole shebang, but for now you can enjoy this:

It was a wedded bliss weekend. We stayed at the groom's house, which also happened to be my first District Leader from the mish. Crazy, right? Being the good friends that we were, we dipped 1,345,982 strawberries (or something close to that).

And then we obviously had to get manis and pedis. I need a spa chair in my house.

I got a little over zealous when arranging the vegetable trays, but I wanted people to know that today was a wedding day, because seeing a girl in a poofy white dress carrying flowers sometimes doesn't get the message across.

Then the actual wedding came, and she and her hubby were sealed in the Idaho Falls LDS temple. It was probably 45 degrees, so it really wasn't that bad. She had gotten a bridal cloak, but while taking pictures without it, I decided to take upon the part of snow queen.

There's the beautiful bride with a creeper who photo bombed in the background.

Two weeks before, at my cousin's wedding, I caught the bouquet. When I came back to Idaho I had every intention of starting a winning streak. Alas, a woman in her late 40s caught it. She probably needed it more than I did. 

Back to California for Christmas and a cooked goose that tasted more like ham because it was ham. Here are our awesome Christmas cards that moi designed. I'm okay with you saying these are the best Christmas cards ever made. I've already come to terms that my humility is perfected. (Click to make bigger so you can bask in its amazingness). 

Christmas was pretty low key, as was New Year's. Basically just hung out with the fam because we're tight like unto a dish. Then we said goodbye to my brother, Trenton, who was going to the Atlanta Georgia mission for 2 years. Yes, I served in the Macon, Georgia mission, and now he was following in my tracting footsteps. Bye TrennyWennyMenny!

During all of this I managed to crank out a second wedding invite for my cousin Gina who will be getting married in a couple of weeks. It's quite different than Rachel's invite, but the same in that they are both invites for weddings. Pretty cool how I can keep to a theme, no? 

And then on to my third wedding in this nuptial whirlwind. This was for Rachel D (Yes. Two of my best friends are named Rachel. Don't let that blow your mind). She's from Alabama and her fiance (now husband) is from Wyoming. They were going to get married in Alabama, because who gets married in Wyoming in January, but the groom's family had a dairy farm they couldn't leave and just like that I got to fly to Billings, Montana. It's a small airport. 

I thought for sure it would be some great blizzard that people would tell their grandkiddies about, but luckily it was about 40 degrees and clear skies. My very talented friend, Adrian, was the wedding photographer, so I didn't take many pics. I just yelled at people to get out of the background or made the kids in the picture laugh. I'm pretty good at that. 

Get this. She got her dress from China. Never tried on or nuthin. Didn't even see a picture of it. Okay, she saw a picture and sent in her measurements and money, and they sent back this beautiful dress. I was super impressed. I don't know if I have the guts to do it, but I'm glad it worked for her. Especially because she saved mucho dinero.

That's me standing next to the groom in the picture above. These weddings have really taken a toll on my appearance. Rachel got married in the Billings, Montana LDS temple. Behind the temple there is this wide field with gorgeous rocky cliffs in the background. I only saw the pictures on the camera and they're breath taking; I'm excited to see them once Adrian puts them up. Yes, Adrian, that was a subtle message to you.

After the wedding, we went back down to the farm which was near Cody, Wyoming. While waiting for the reception, I went and kicked it with the calves. 

Remember how I caught the bouquet at wedding #1, but not at wedding #2? Well I was destined to catch it at wedding #3. Mainly because I was the only single gal who was still there. But part of it really was destiny, I just know it. When I get that picture of me fending off the non-existent single crazies, I'll make sure to post that.

I have such awesome friends and am so glad I can attend their weddings. I'll be going to wedding #4 in a couple of weeks (that will be for my cousin Gina) and then it looks like I'll have a little breather.

Speaking of breathers, you probably had to take a potty break this blog post is so long. But now it's the end and I get to tell you my exciting news. 

I'm moving to Alaska. 

You read that right. I'll be moving to Fairbanks, Alaska, in April to work for the cruise lines as a tour bus driver and guide. Essentially, I'll drive a 40 foot bus while entertaining...er...explaining touristy things. I get a microphone and a captive audience and I'm getting paid. Life doesn't get much better than this, folks. 

I have a feeling that once I get to Alaska this little blog is going to be updated a little more regularly than it has been. Someone suggested I set up a Twitter account and repeat the funny things people say to me. Or vice versa. So start sending me your favorite Alaska jokes. 

Kisses!

Halloween Grays

I had the best Halloween costume planned out. I didn't think of it, but I haven't seen someone in real life wear it (this is as opposed to fake life, which we all know consists of Kardashians).

I was going for the "desaturated" look, like these:

Instead, I got this:

I felt like a wannabe sparkly vampire. And I definitely did not wannabe a sparkly vampire.

When people would ask what I was, instead of explaining to them how I epically failed, I said "what do you think I am?" Whatever answer they gave I would enthusiastically nod and say "that's exactly right! How did you know?"

Maybe next year I'll drink a lot of water and go as "saturated."

Name That Movie

"Audrey, quick name the movie that this quote belongs to: "You're like my own personal brand of heroin."
 "I don't know."
"Seriously? Think about it."
"No, I really don't know."
"How about Twilight, when Edward is talking to Bella?"
"Oh. All I could think of was Ke$ha. You know, 'you're love is my drug.'"

Season's Greetings

The other day my sister and I were talking about seasons. It came up that she doesn't exactly have a firm grasp on the order of the seasons. She said "well I know when winter and summer are, but I get mixed up with the other two."

I said "Well if you know when those two are, the rest should fall into place. Spring comes after winter and before summer, and fall comes after summer and before winter."

She looked at me like I was an idiot and said "Yeah. That makes no sense whatsoever."

Hey, I tried.

Capitol "C" Crazy

My grandma came to live with us. She's 82 and is mostly deaf. When she came to live with us she was crazy with a capitol "C." And my parents were in Utah/Idaho dropping my brothers off to school. So I got to take care of crazy grandma.

It was the most adventurous three nights of my life.

The first night she wouldn't sleep in her room because she thought there was a man with his dog in there. Hours I slept: 6.

The second night I took her to the ER at midnight because of a blood sugar scare (she's a diabetic). When we were coming home I was playing the radio (because by then it was 3 a.m. and something had to keep me awake). There was a steady bass beat going and she looked concerned at me and said "Elissa, is that your heart? Are you okay?"  Hours I slept: 4.

The third night she thought she had to go to work, so she'd put on her purse and proceed to find an exit. It'd take her a couple of minutes to figure out how to unlock the door and then I'd re-lock it. She would look at me and say "what'd you do that for?" Then she'd wobble over to another door and the charade would start again. You'd think she'd get worn out and want to go to sleep. Nope. This went on all night until 3 a.m., when I called a family friend to come granny-watch before I joined her in the looney bin. Hours I slept: 3.

The day my parents came home I let her out into the front yard where she tried to open the door to the truck. When that didn't work, she started yelling at some imaginary person who was in the truck to open the door. When that didn't work, she got into the bed of the truck and sat there, ready to go to work. I then called my parents and asked them how much longer before they got home.

When my parents did get home, she introduced me to her son, who just so happens to be my father, who I just so happen to live with. And once my parents came home, she was no longer crazy.

Turns out she had a massive urinary tract infection which apparently makes older people go crazy. Once they get over the infection, they go back to just old-crazy, not capitol C crazy.

That was the beginning of September and I think it took me the rest of the month to screw my head back on. What did you do in September?

More grandma stories to come.

Dog Showers

My 13 year old brother, Tanner, just asked me "Do you think it's weird if you find a dog attractive?" I didn't have an answer for him.

The other night, after everyone had gone to bed and I was up wasting away my life watching TV, Tanner came down stairs with wet hair and a shocked look on his face.

"Elissa, why did I just take a shower?" It's 11:40 p.m. I start laughing. He asks me again. "Elissa, why did I just take a shower?"

I said "Did you really just take a shower?" He nods his head.

"I got up, took a shower and then saw that it was still dark. Why did I do that?" I told him that happens to lots of people, who think it's time to get up and get ready when it's still only 11:40 at night (although, oddly enough, I've actually never done that). He just kept looking at me, like someone had given him the David-after-the-dentist-drug. I asked if he wanted to go back to his room, but he said it was too creepy. So he snuggled up on the couch and I finished watching The Office.

*Update: After the awesome email I sent to a job offer, I find out the whole thing is a scam. Look at me, wasting my best words on a scam.

*And someone had asked what kind of dog Max is. He's a White German Shepherd.

*I also finished reading The Help. I loved it. Though, it did make me want a maid (I don't care what her race is). Is that bad? 

I'd Like to Introduce You

There's someone new in my life. That's why it's been so long since a post.

We met through my grandma.

He has dark chocolate brown eyes and he has the most intense stare I've ever seen.

Like me, he loves food.

We've gone on nighttime walks together.

He's very protective of me, but at the same time can get a little mouthy.

We both have European ancestors; mine Scottish, his German. 

I've taught him a thing or two, and he's taught me as well.

Like me, he likes naps during the day.

We don't really cuddle, but he has definitely kissed me.

I'd like to introduce you to Max.

Fun Things To Do At A Museum

Did you miss me? I was house watching/living in a friend's house that didn't have internet. Nobody knows the troubles I've seen.

Tomorrow I'm going to the Getty Museum with my single's ward. The art nerd in me is super excited. I've been before, but it was five years ago. I wanted to have some sort of fun activity (like a scavenger hunt) once there, but I couldn't find any.

Instead, I made up my own (with some ideas from my brother, Trenton). Here is my list of fun things to do at a museum. I recommend doing almost none of them, but I'll let you know if I'm stupid enough to try them out. 

1. Two people pretend to speak a foreign language or have a deep accent of some sort and argue over a piece of art. Use lots of hand motions. 

2. Look at a painting inquisitively for a really long time then suddenly jump up, clap and say “I get it!” Look very pleased with yourself. Works best with simple art, like a picture of a fruit bowl.

3. Ask a guard/curator “Where is the 21st Century Plumbing Exhibit?” (a.k.a, where is the bathroom).

4. Re-enact a scene from a painting next to the painting. Hold still for as long as possible. Please keep clothes on if scene happens to have nudes.

5. Pretend to be a tour guide. Try to get strangers in your group. Make up believable stories about each piece.

6. Take a painting off a wall and see what happens. Just don’t do it in my presence and make sure someone video tapes it.

7. Go up to someone looking at a piece and while whispering tell them you know it’s a fake, but the FBI doesn’t take your calls anymore. Look paranoid and shift your eyes. Tell them to spread the word, and then disappear as quickly as possible.

8. Pretend to be an art student replicating a painting. Except use your iPad, sketch app and finger.
9. Tell people you’ve lost your seeing-eye ferret. Bump into things. Not statues. Or Greek vases.

10. Tell guards you’re blind and have to touch every painting to “see” it.

11. Ask a guard if he has a lighter for your cigarette.

12. Only converse through song lyrics. This has nothing to do with a museum, but sounds entertaining.

13.Talk to a piece of art as if it were talking to you. Ask others around you what the art seems to be saying to them. Act like the art offended you and walk away.

14. Acting official, go around telling visitors you are taking a survey of their experience. Ask them if they have had any feelings of nervousness, dizziness, headaches, or strong urges to urinate, etc.

15. Survey option #2: Ask questions that have nothing to do with the museum. Like what their feelings are about dogs vs. cats. Nod in interest and mark on random piece of paper.

16. Using your phone or iPod, go up to the information desk and show them pictures from the internet of art you think the museum should acquire. Throw in a couple of pieces by kindergarteners.

17. Stand in front of a painting, then go limp and close your eyes. Start to shake and pretend the spirit of the dead artist has embodied you (think Whoopi Goldberg in Ghost). Rant about the lack of understanding people have about your piece. Call other famous artists cheats and imitators. Start painting in the air.

18. Pretend to be a spy meeting an informant for the first time. Go up to a stranger and say something crazy like: “At what time will the rooster leave the coop?” When they look at you funny, ask them if they are (make up name), then tell them your whole conversation never happened and they shouldn’t tell anyone. Their life depends on it.

19. Randomly turn around, take someone’s palm and read their future. Then apologize for your psychic visions.

Any great ideas to add to this list?

26

Birthdays suck. Good thing they only come once a year.