tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-50776720567812050642024-03-13T01:03:17.520-06:00Oh, and P.S.bloggity blog.Kelsey Scotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07390811148517945006noreply@blogger.comBlogger178125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5077672056781205064.post-66521021648543144152017-07-11T20:25:00.003-06:002017-10-10T22:23:29.387-06:00How I Beat the Comparison Game<br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">I’m sure we’ve all come across the article(s) about the dangers of comparing ourselves with others, and the posts showing “real life” behind the perfect pictures. It’s always a </span>feel-good<span style="font-size: 12pt;"> read, and I’m reminded not to compare myself to the 100lb blogger with 5 kids and a six pack, but I inevitably fall back into the vicious cycle again of measuring myself to others.</span></div>
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Before I share some points, I need to explain how this all came to be. Scott and I got a puppy about two months ago, and I usually end up being the one to walk him a couple times a day. At first, this was cute, but after a while, it gets boring to just walk as your dog sniffs around, so I started listening to some podcasts to pass the time. I found myself slowly getting pulled towards self-help podcasts, and I find that all of the ones I’ve listened to I’ve twisted to helping me with this comparison issue I have, because although I’m giving this advice it’s still something that I’m working on. I am wickedly susceptible to the comparing game that happens on social media. I feel I’m constantly reminding myself that it’s only me I need to worry about, but it wasn’t until the last couple months after doing a few specific things that I’ve noticed a difference in how I view myself and have (started to) beat that nasty habit.</div>
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<span style="font-size: large; text-indent: -18pt;">Double Check Your Values</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">In a really interesting study, a couple psychologists discussed “</span><a href="http://www2.psych.ubc.ca/~schaller/308Readings/Dunning2013.pdf" style="font-size: 12pt;">Wishful Seeing</a><span style="font-size: 12pt;">”. I’m really bad, because every time I read something I twist it so that it applies to what I want at that moment (wishful seeing! Haha), so you may very well read the article and it comes across very differently, but this is essentially what I got from it: </span><b style="font-size: 12pt;">what is important to you will stand out more</b><span style="font-size: 12pt;">. I had listened to Emily Balcetis, one of the authors of the article, on a TED talk, which I’ll talk more about later, and it really got me thinking. I notice the perfect hair, bodies, clothes, or whatever because that’s what I’m wanting. I realized I needed to take a step back and re-evaluate where I put value. I had been sucked into the notion that appearances are more important than character. When I’m looking at social media I remind myself about what’s really important to me: integrity, honesty, kindness (none of which I am an emblem of, but maybe someday). It changed who I followed, who I looked at, and, actually, how much time I spent on it. Though, fitness accounts are still my weakness. I love a good transformation story, you guys. When I’m looking at a person’s post, and they look thin and their makeup perfectly done, I remind myself to look for the values I want. They’re posting a picture with their children? I respect that. You go and spend quality time with your family. It’s not about how you look, it’s about how you act, and that’s what I’m trying to focus on. What I wish for in my life I will undoubtedly seek, so I might as well wish for more substantial things.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: large; text-indent: -18pt;">Maintain Your Own Vision</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">I work out (fairly) regularly, and find that I’m the kind of person who has to go to the gym. If I’m at home, I just end up watching a movie in my gym clothes and calling it a day. One day while walking Winston, I chose to listen to the TED talk “</span><a href="https://www.ted.com/talks/emily_balcetis_why_some_people_find_exercise_harder_than_others" style="font-size: 12pt;">Why Some People Find Exercise Harder Than Others</a><span style="font-size: 12pt;">” because I was feeling like I wasn’t pushing myself very hard when I went, and seriously, exercising is hard for me. In it, Emily talks about the phrase “keep your eyes on the prize” and describes how people in a race who focused only on the finish line, instead of things happening on the sidelines, saw the finish line as 30% closer. Their goals were more attainable and there was no comparison with others. I needed to hear this. I oftentimes find myself working out, then noticing the insanely ripped girl in the corner doing handstand push ups and having my motivation slip quietly out the window. One day, I really thought about what my vision is. Where do I imagine myself being in a year? In a month? What were my goals for my job, for my body, for my relationships? I decided on my vision(s), and I repeatedly remind myself when I’m stuck in a rut of comparison that it doesn’t matter what’s happening on the sidelines, it matters what </span><i style="font-size: 12pt;">my</i><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> finish line is; it matters what </span><i style="font-size: 12pt;">my</i><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> vision is and not anyone else’s. I think it’s easy to compare when we are not totally engaged in our own goals. I find when I’m idle and aimless that I feel as though everyone around me is doing everything right and I’m just watching from the sidelines. I think when we have our own vision it’s also easier to be happier for other’s success. When we’re all anxiously engaged in something that feeling of competition fades away.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; text-indent: -18pt;">Keep A Growth Mindset</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">I could write about a growth mindset all freaking day. I am obsessed with the book “</span><a href="https://www.amazon.ca/Mindset-Psychology-Carol-S-Dweck/dp/0345472322" style="font-size: 12pt;">Mindset</a><span style="font-size: 12pt;">” by Carol Dweck. It changed how I taught, how I looked at my marriage, and how I looked at people in general. It essentially teaches that people with a “fixed” mindset, which, hint hint, is not a good thing, are ones who believe that the traits they have are just aspects of their personality and they can’t change that; they are unwilling to try to change who they are. They also give up at the first sign of challenge and simply deem anything difficult as “not their thing”. They are, in simple terms, afraid of failure, and will do whatever they can to avoid it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Growth mindsets, however, see failure as a step in a process of learning. They recognize that to fail means to be challenged, and those challenging things pay off. It’s hard, don’t get me wrong, most of us have been thinking the other way our entire lives, but I find life much more satisfying when I accept that it’s okay to fail and to not be perfect. It’s good to not be the best and to try something different and make yourself look like a fool. It’s terrifying, but I have gained more from this mindset than I can even put into words. I was the kid who wouldn’t run in a track meet because I knew I wouldn’t win, or I wouldn’t take calculus because I didn’t think I could be the best. I have been so scared to fail my entire life, and I found that I was just constantly looking around envying everyone’s successes and holding it against them because I was so afraid of my failures. I remember after my first year of university calling my mom because I didn’t do well in my classes, mostly because I slept through them, and saying, “Why didn’t you let me do a year long course and call it a day?! I should’ve done something easy!” In her wisdom, she told me how happy I would be at the end of my schooling. It seemed so far away, but thankfully I trusted her. And you know what? I figured it out. It was challenging, and I definitely failed at many things, but I cherish the things I learned about myself at that time. Failing is good, and just because someone isn’t failing at the same things as you does not mean they aren’t failing at </span><b style="font-size: 12pt;">some thing</b><span style="font-size: 12pt;">. Instead of pitting yourself against the world, recognize that we’re all running very different races, and cheer for everyone.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">And there you have it. Three things I have been working on. I think I could sum this entire spiel into one sentence: Focus on </span><i style="font-size: 12pt;">your</i><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> finish line, and cheer on the other runners.</span></div>
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-->Kelsey Scotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07390811148517945006noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5077672056781205064.post-46121798349045076872016-12-28T15:54:00.002-07:002016-12-29T11:50:19.363-07:00Superficial Happiness<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">The holidays always make me want to write. What is it about Christmas and family time that seems to clarify so many thoughts? Nonetheless, I had a very eye-opening experience this past week. It started on Friday, the day before Christmas Eve when I was wildly running around for presents. Before going into the season I adamantly told myself this would be a very relaxed, minimal Christmas, yet here I was impulse buying things neither Scott nor myself wanted to cram into our house. It wasn’t until I was standing in Superstore did I look around and acknowledge the anxiety seeping from me. I was unhappy, and it was because I felt the need to buy. </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">This need, to fill some void that we self-create, is so toxic, but we continuously fall into it. Why?</span></div>
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We all know I am fascinated by social media. The need to have people acknowledge and affirm one’s relationships, purchases, workout regime, and children is something I am continually trying to wrap my head around. I can’t tell you how many times I have deleted these apps only to come crawling back a few weeks later. It’s an addiction, really, and I wish we treated it like it is, but I digress. Lately, I have perused Instagram and seen that with Christmas comes the dreaded giveaway posts. I fall into this trap people; please don’t think I am immune to this. Just a week ago I spent 20 minutes liking and following a loop of people for products I wasn’t remotely interested in. I wasted precious holidays that I look forward to for quite some time so that I could shop for things I didn’t want or most likely wouldn’t get.</div>
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This is where self-awareness comes in and is desperately needed. This is where, while standing in the middle of Superstore looking at who knows what, I dropped the things I didn’t absolutely need and walked away. I drove straight to my parent’s house, held my niece, and thought that this is what I want in life. I left after a quick visit, met Scott at an old folk’s home where his grandma lives, sang Christmas songs with his family, and again thought to myself that this is what I want.</div>
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I don’t want the choker necklace, or the micro-bladed eyebrows, or the creepy lipstick that doesn’t seem to come off. So why the heck do I feel like I need to buy it? It’s social media. It’s the destructive social-powered machines that are telling you that you need to have a well-dressed toddler, do BBG workouts, and “eat clean” with the right things, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">and it is exhausting. </i></div>
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And this is the part where I address the mothers around me, because I will be one of you in the future (not an announcement), and I am terrified of the idea. The thought of joining your group gives me instant anxiety, and not because I will have an adorable red-haired baby. I am terrified because your group is the hardest of them all to keep up with. Your group seems simultaneously happy but unreachable all at the same time, and I am worried what will happen to me when I become one of you.</div>
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When did we need to start having a diaper bag that costs a middle-class worker’s daily pay? When did we need to get strollers that cost <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">half of a paycheck</i>? Who is saying that these are the best things out there to buy? And why are we believing them? I look at my life right now, and I know I won’t be able to afford to keep up with all of this, and that in part creates some feelings of failures. Even further, I know that I’m financially better off than some people who have these things, which, frankly, horrifies me.</div>
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Is having a certain life portrayed on Instagram and Facebook really making you happy? Are those 150 likes and 20 comments really your source of joy? I have started thinking about this. My need to show everyone that Scott and I are happy and to tell them what’s happening in my life. My need to show that I lost 5 pounds or that my hair is a new colour. To give monthly updates to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">strangers</i> about my baby or pregnancy. To buy a new car, house, or living room set and remind everyone that I can use a plastic card at a checkout.</div>
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Whenever I’m unhappy, it’s usually because I have been swooped up into this notion that I am not enough and I do not have enough. So, I’ve done some research, and you’re welcome to join me in my future endeavors. I’ve started doing it a bit, and I can already see an improvement. Here’s what it is: every time I buy something, I ask myself the real reason I want it. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The honest reason</i>. For instance, I bought a turtleneck the other day, that I felt sort-of-partial to, and asked myself why I had done that. The answer I came to? I wanted people to see me as “sophisticated”. Ha! I’m still kicking myself over this. I bought something not because I loved it, but because I wanted to appear a certain way to a group of people, instead of just showing it through actions and words.</div>
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The other day I stood in Costco by a sectional, feeling anxious and unsettled, because I was worried the sets would be sold out. I had to buy the couch right then, I told myself, because I had waited 6 months for these couches to come back and today was the day I would buy it.</div>
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<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>… Then I started thinking: we could really use some new winter tires on the car, and let’s be real, the washer is most likely going to go out in the next 6 months. I stopped and asked myself, “Will I be happy I bought this tomorrow? Why am I actually buying this?” I realized that the only reason I wanted the couch was because I had a certain colour scheme I wanted to achieve in our living room. It wasn’t because our couches at home were worn out (they’re 2 years old), it was because I saw a colour, I saw a deal, and I wanted people to walk into our house and think that it looked good. Again, not buying because of necessity, buying because of social pressures I’ve placed on myself. Buying to fit with the trends. Buying <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">stuff</i> so that people would notice it.</div>
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I’m starting with purchases, but I want to transform this into my daily life. What is the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">real</i> reason I check Instagram 10 times in an hour? What’s the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">real </i>reason I binge watch <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Skin Wars</i> in a day? I think it’s time we start being honest with ourselves. What’s the actual reason for what we do? Are we escaping? Are we chasing? Trying to keep up? Because for me, I don’t know about you, but for me, it’s because I don’t feel like I’m enough, and I’m really over that feeling.</div>
Kelsey Scotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07390811148517945006noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5077672056781205064.post-31897242590293062482016-05-24T22:22:00.000-06:002016-05-24T22:55:26.982-06:00Why Nerds Are Always the HappiestBeing in junior high brings up a lot of feelings: some crusty and forgotten, and some very, very fresh. It's hard to watch young kids each day desperately find some kind of identity. They're trying to fit in, to find what they're good at, and my heart goes out to them. No one wants to live through the woes of junior high twice, especially me. While this is difficult, I'm seeing a very interesting group of people blossom out of my classes: the nerds. Before we create an image of what they look like, let me first explain my definition of a nerd from a personal experience.<br>
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In my last year of school, I was sitting in a class with a bunch of overeager education students. Anyone who has been in the program can tell you that some of the classes are very, in my most endearing word, "fluffy"; all touchy-feely and truly painful to sit in. Each of us was to present something about ourselves in a given form to the class. I picked the safest route by simply showing an old picture of myself, quickly giving a spiel, and sitting down. Other people in my class were much more ambitious. One boy sang, one spoke Korean, one recited poetry, and one guy explained how he did Kendo (Japanese martial art that involves sticks) on the weekend. The Kendo guy stuck out to me. As I watched him swinging around his sticks, talking about his group of friends, and how they would go on the weekends and compete, one part of me sniggered thinking what a giant nerd he was. Why wasn't he embarrassed? You're almost 30 years old! Put the sticks down and do something respectable!</div>
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The other part of my brain didn't follow the same stream: I was intrigued. He looked absolutely, completely comfortable and happy with himself. There was no hint of hesitancy in sharing something that most other people would not consider a "cool" thing. I initially chalked this up to a lack of self-awareness in a social setting, but that didn't seem to fit. I realized this guy was a nerd, he was aware of it, and he enjoyed being one. My concept of a nerd dramatically changed that day. </div>
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As I get older I am seeing a really interesting trend in my generation; it's something I call generic individuality. We wear things we wouldn't normally because we see a blogger wearing it, and we wear it before it becomes too popular. We go to places we wouldn't normally because we can post a picture of it. We exercise to post about it, we cook to show it off, and we create to display. We are consistently attempting to fit into an ever elusive group that has no leader. Trust me, it has its own personal pull on me. The other day I found myself thinking I needed a spiralizer to make zucchini noodles, but thankfully I reminded myself I hate zucchini. There is tremendous pressure to experience what everyone else is experiencing. The only problem with this is that I think it stops us from finding what we individually would enjoy. We miss the "nerd" opportunities! We don't get to geek out over things and thus feel obligated to semi-enjoy what the masses do. </div>
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And this is where my group of student-nerds comes in. The happiest kids, and generally the most fun to be around, are those who have their own <i>things</i>. Part of this happiness comes from a sense of identity that they gain from their nerdisms- am I allowed to just make up words like that? They are so excited about something, and they have it as their own. They do not do it for publicity, or for recognition, they do it simply to <i>enjoy. </i>Nerds enjoy things, with little concern about why they need to enjoy it. It is simply theirs, and that's all that matters. No pictures, no videos. No one needs to know about it but them.</div>
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That has been my goal the last couple of months. I have been searching desperately for my nerdism. What's so fun about this is that I have found myself exposed to so many ideas and concepts that I was never willing to consider before because of some conceived notion of my identity. I feel like I'm starting to get to know myself again, and I'm starting to actually enjoy things. One day I read about honey bees, and now it's all I want to talk about with people. I love bees! With that has come a greater appreciation for the environment, and I have thoroughly enjoyed expanding my views. The best about this is that it has never been propelled by a social need but as a personal need. As someone who cannot handle stress in the least, this has been a saving grace. When life gets overwhelming, I go off and I get to explore things and find what makes me happy. It has been so fulfilling and refreshing, and I have found myself slowly starting to fit into what makes me a nerd.</div>
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Kelsey Scotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07390811148517945006noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5077672056781205064.post-40793947061533552992016-03-06T22:12:00.003-07:002016-03-07T16:17:01.436-07:00Are You Having A Baby?I think this is the fourth time I've started this blog post. As of late I have been very neglectful of this thing. Mostly, I write posts but don't ever publish them. Now that the mothers of my students can read this I feel hyper-aware of what I say, and so anything controversial, or even particularly personal, doesn't get published.<br>
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But, this I cannot stop thinking about. No matter how hard I try this thought has been taking up a large portion of my mind, so I guess I'll just get to it.<br>
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For the first year of our marriage, I was constantly told not to have kids. This bothered me then and still bothers me now. It wasn't a suggestion or even a bit of advice to wait; this was an order. Do not have children. You are <i>not</i> allowed to have children. I had to be a working, contributing citizen. To have a child while Scott was in school, where I had no employment base, was juvenile and selfish. Why people cared about this is beyond me. By the first year, after people realized we were not having a honeymoon baby, the comments started to disappear. People were relieved I was graduating and getting a job, and it was a blissful year of little-to-no baby comments.<br>
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By year two, things changed. Suddenly the fact that I was not having children started to bother people. Now that we are moving into year three, and I'm almost 25, people are concerned. I am asked three times a week why I don't have children; there is no hyperbole in that sentence. It has gone to such an extent that people have just started assuming I was having kids. Scott has had strangers come up to him saying, "Congratulations on the baby!" After that, I realized I wasn't allowed to gain any weight. Weight= having a baby.<br>
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Suddenly, everything I was doing was being analyzed by others. Feeling sick? You're pregnant! Tired? Pregnant. Hungry? Definitely pregnant. I even once went to the bathroom too many times, and people asked if I was pregnant. When did this become okay?<br>
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I am thrilled for those having children. Be around me for 5 minutes with a toddler, and you can tell that I love children. I wouldn't have chosen the job I did if I didn't. You want to post about your baby? Awesome. You want to write out your birth story? I will read that and bawl the entire way through. I think motherhood is beautiful, I think having kids is awesome, but what works for you might not work for me.<br>
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While people may deny it, there is a definite cultural expectation. You should be married by your early 20s, have a baby within a couple years, and then continue on doing so until you see fit. This is a normal pattern, and honestly one I expected from myself when I was younger, but I've come to realize this isn't a pattern that I will most likely follow. I'm glad if this is you, but there is a group of women out there, and I think this can even apply to those not married, who feel like their worth is in question because they have not followed "the plan".<br>
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It's the little comments in passing that I find are the most hurtful. I know people look at me and they're wondering what's going on. While not straight out saying it, people assume that I do not have children because I am obsessed with work, or I care too much about money, or I'm "struggling to have it happen". Honestly, it's none of anyone's business. There are a million reasons to have kids, but there are also a million reasons not to, and some of them are in and out of a person's control.<br>
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Do I want to have children? Yes. Of course, but I just can't understand how at 25 I feel like my time to bear children is running out, and this is because of other people's thoughts or opinions. The other day I was asked why Scott and I didn't have kids yet. I usually give a different response each time; it keeps people on their toes, haha. The person asked, "Well how old are you?" I replied I was 24, turning 25 in a bit. They replied, "Oh, you have a little bit of time left, I guess."<br>
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Honestly, I went home and I cried. At 24 was I missing the window of having a baby? I know people don't mean anything by it, but it has given me so much anxiety and stress. I feel like my value as a woman is nothing because I don't have children. I'm not as experienced or mature as someone else with kids. The fact that I work hard in everything I do, and I'm trying my best, does not seem to be a measurement of worth at my age. Working and just being with my husband is viewed as almost selfish. I am <i>selfish</i> because I don't have children. I care too much about worldly things because we are trying to save up for a house instead of a baby.<br>
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I don't hold anything against anyone. I know that people don't mean to hurt by these questions. I feel the need to keep reiterating that. I just want to write this, because I have realized more and more that you never know what's going on in a person's life. You don't know their innermost desires; you don't know the factors behind people's choices, in any situation. We often jump to conclusions and discuss people that we really, truly, do not know. Honestly, let's just let people mind their own business. I guess that is the moral of this post. When someone is sick, just let them be sick. If someone has gained ten pounds, let's stop speculating over why they did. We are so consumed with watching other people's lives. In such a busy life, why do we even have time to do this? There are so many other wonderful things we could be discussing and enjoying.<br>
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Next time we feel the need to ask a person why or why not they have done anything, let's stop ourselves. People have enough trials and burdens in their lives without us placing expectations and pressures on them, even if it's unintentional. I have been there, and I've put my foot in my mouth, but being on the receiving end has illustrated the pain of feeling like you are failing at "the plan", and that you are not worth as much as others. People do not have complete control over their lives, and we often forget that sometimes things are not based on choice.<br>
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<br>Kelsey Scotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07390811148517945006noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5077672056781205064.post-33463654633301094872015-01-26T15:19:00.003-07:002015-01-26T15:19:51.905-07:00Three Easy Meals For When You're Too Tired To Cook: Part 1As promised: more documenting, and a not-so-heavy post.<br />
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I love to cook. I find it really relaxing and I feel much happier after a meal if it's come from fresh food instead of a box or a fast food place. The problem though, is that cooking can be really time consuming.<br />
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Only about once or twice during the week do I spend any real time on dinner (as in over half an hour getting things ready). Other than that I try to get food on the table within about twenty minutes. This can be difficult if you're trying to stay away from instant meals like Mac & Cheese or grilled cheese sandwiches- basically anything with dairy in it- why must cheese be so delicious? Scott and I both don't do well with dairy. I become a bloated pig for the next day and Scotty breaks out like a pubescent teen.<br />
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So here are my favourite sugar-free, dairy-free, and worry-free meals that we make.<br />
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I actually don't know the name of this dish, but my sister made it for me once and it was DELICIOUS- so let's call it peppers and chicken haha. I tried to recreate it the next day (that's how good it was) but I only used what I could remember. I have realized this dish is basically foolproof. I've thrown whatever I feel like in with it and it has always turned out great. The other great part? It requires little to no cooking-in-front-of-a-hot-stove-sweating-to-death kind of preparation and everything is fresh.<br />
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One way I cut out a lot of cooking time is I cook my chicken breasts at the beginning of the week. Then I can quickly grab one out of the fridge and put it on a frying pan for a few minutes if needs be. It saves SO much time. Also, this is a great recipe for if you're like me and you buy bell peppers constantly and then forget to use them.<br />
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Well, let's get to it!<br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Peppers and Chicken Salad</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: x-small;">Ingredients:</span><br />
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<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: x-small;">2-4 chicken breasts cooked and sliced (Scott and I easily go through two)</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: x-small;">5-6 bell peppers sliced (We usually use 3 for just the two of us)</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: x-small;">Half a red onion chopped</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: x-small;">1 jalapeño, seeded</span></li>
</ul>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: x-small;">Combine those in a bowl and let them sit. I have added banana peppers instead of jalapeño and my sister adds olives instead of jalapeño. Some other time maybe I'll post on when you should use certain kinds of onions. Once you know what kind to use, it will change your meals for the better!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: x-small;">Sauce:</span></div>
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<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: x-small;">Quarter cup of red wine vinegar (I usually use less than this)</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: x-small;">Quarter cup of olive oil (I use less oil too)</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: x-small;">1 Tablespoon of Balsamic Vinegar (I double it because I have a weird addiction to balsamic vinegar)</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: x-small;">1-2 teaspoons of chili flakes</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: x-small;">2 cloves of garlic (I press mine- I love my garlic press!!)</span></li>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: x-small;">Mix those together and pour over the the first half. Let it sit for a few minutes to soak up the juices. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: x-small;">Right before serving dice up two tomatoes and mix them in. Salt and pepper to taste.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: x-small;">I have served it with baguettes or buns to dip in the juice and it's delicious, but if you're trying to stay away from bread it's delicious all on its own! The chicken really soaks up the flavour and the peppers are a yummy crunch. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: x-small;">Enjoy!</span></div>
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Can we just laugh at this picture for a second? I actually made this recipe the other day, and I was so hungry I didn't think to take a picture. For some reason I feel like a recipe needs a picture... Pixlr skills to the rescue! </div>
<br />Kelsey Scotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07390811148517945006noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5077672056781205064.post-43945467630212419742015-01-22T12:44:00.000-07:002015-01-22T12:44:58.129-07:00I Hate Finals WeekI have severe writer's block. The thing with blogs is that it's really fun to write on one, but then I remember that my words will be put out into space and I get too nervous. My resolution this year is to record, and I'm hoping to make a book for my someday family. I tried to do a scrapbook and it sucked, and then I thought I would do an Instagram book and remembered my Instagram is embarrassing.<br />
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So here I am, having no idea what to talk about. C'est la vie; it must be done. I am in a weird zone of my blog right now. Do I get down to the nitty-gritty, or do I tell you guys a bunch of non-interesting details about my life? That is the question. I think I'll start with the non-interesting details, if we're going to be straight forward here.<br />
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I am still teaching, and my classes are getting into their finals. I have decided this is the worst time of year. Yesterday in a final I saw a 16 year old boy silently start to cry as test anxiety and panic started to take over. I had a very conflicting dialogue with myself. Do I help the boy? <i>Well, it's a final and he needs to do this on his own...</i> But would I want someone to help me? <i>Yes, but again, Kelsey, it is a final and this needs to assess his understanding!</i> I started to cry. Haha, so silly. I shed a single tear for this boy. That's so embarrassing to say. In the end I got up and helped the kid. I helped him plan his essay out and gave him some ideas. I feel a little guilty, because there was some definite nudging on my part, but to see relief wash over his face when he realized he could do it was totally worth it.<br />
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I realized two things in that instance:<br />
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1. There is nothing worse than finals week. <br />
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2. I really, genuinely love the kids I teach.<br />
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Somedays I come home from work, throw my bag down and my hands up and tell Scott, "I am so done with this. I am done with those crabby, lazy, no good, rotten teenagers! Why can't they work? Why are they so mean to each other? Why can't they get off their (blank) phones?!" I usually rant for a few more minutes, declare myself done with them for eternity, and then have a three hour nap. There have been times where I have gone to bed and thought, "If I didn't show up to work, or if I never went back, would they notice? Am I accomplishing anything in the slightest with these kids?" On those nights sleep does not come easily.<br />
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But then something like that test happens, only slightly different. A kid comes and asks for help, or someone that I usually see alone in the halls feels safe in my room, or they do/say something so absurdly hilarious that I laugh harder than I probably ever have before. I realize that I have the chance to be a constant in their life. I am always there for them, sitting at my desk, probably eating some kind of stress treat to get through the day (like the Mr. Big I have in my mouth as I'm typing this), and ready to help them. All this because I love them. I don't know how or when it happens, but it does.<br />
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Well, I didn't mean for this blog to turn heavy. My next one will be very light and fluffy, I promise!<br />
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<br />Kelsey Scotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07390811148517945006noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5077672056781205064.post-86839104854738340342014-09-15T21:09:00.001-06:002014-09-15T21:17:28.913-06:00My Realms of RealityFive years ago, I sat in my bed and bawled because I missed high school more than anything in the world. "<i>Life was so easy! I miss my family!" </i>I would think while I downed a tub of Nutella and watched Mean Girls for the 1000th time- which ironically portrays high school as a really horrible thing, which I didn't seem to notice. I hated university, as in really <i>hated </i>it. No one cared about me at university. "<i>Where's the individuality!?" </i>I would wail as Asians and hipsters passed me on the sidewalk. Alas, my first year at school was not good. But you know, it all changed. Eventually, year by year, I fell more in love with school. By the end of it I couldn't get enough. I would spend hours on campus, when I really didn't need to, just because I loved the feeling of being at school. I made friends, like, real friends. And suddenly I was so interesting! And did you wanna hear about my cool facts I learned in my class?<br />
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But, as all things do, it ended. My last day of university I held back tears as I wandered around the campus soaking everything in. That school was my school, and I was not ready to be done with it. Then everything changed really quickly. First, I had a job interview, then I had a job, and suddenly I had left my school for a new one. I was heading back to high school. The one place I missed the most five years before and now I was back at it.<br />
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I'm not going to give an account of what I've been up to. It's probably what you can imagine any first-year teacher doing. What I've really been thinking about lately is realms of reality. See, the way I imagine life is that as you go about things you are only within a certain reality. As a teenager, I was in a reality that was centered on friends, The O.C. reruns, and school. I didn't have to worry about a job or making my own food; my reality of life was very limited. When I graduated, and moved away from home to attend school, my reality changed. Suddenly I had to think about paying bills (Okay, my mom helped me write every cheque for about two years...). As the next five years passed, my reality at times seemed to explode, rather than nicely transition, with massive life changes. Marriage, for example. I don't want to pretend here like marriage is not a massive life change, because it is. Let's all stop pretending like marriage is instantly easy. I've learned the delicate science of living with a man, and that in and of itself has expanded my reality to multiple new levels. ;)<br />
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I think everyone has those experiences, whether it's from traveling, or marriage, or children. You're sitting there one minute, and then in the next you realize that your life, along with yourself, has completely changed. Everything you thought was important has shifted, and you need to make room for an entirely new situation. I love that feeling. Isn't it wonderful to think: <i>Wow, I can handle more now than I could yesterday. </i>That's how I'm feeling right now. I have had to become what some people might call an <i>adult, </i>and it's entirely new to me.<br />
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I go to school everyday worried that I will do what's best for 100 different kids, and although I don't always succeed, I am constantly being amazed at how much my reality is expanding. My idea about life -and its purpose- about kids, about ideas, about <i>whatever</i>, is constantly shifting. As much as I would somedays love to go back to high school where my realm was tiny and comfortable, I realize that there is so much understanding that I would miss. There is so much more to life, and I'm only starting to get at it. There is so much more expansion for me.Kelsey Scotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07390811148517945006noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5077672056781205064.post-18179948340962779452014-06-10T13:54:00.004-06:002014-06-10T14:04:44.110-06:00A Plethora Of PicturesJust some pictures from the past few months:<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Part One: Weddings, Cats, and Kids</span><br />
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Scott and I were both part of our friends' wedding party, and as a bridal party we all got some spray tans. I KNOW, not a great decision on my part. I was orange for two days. For some reason I forgot to put the hair net to my actual hairline (insert: expectations vs. reality of where my hairline really is). Needless to say, I was grateful for my irrational decision to get bangs a few months back.<br />
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We love these two! Also, why do us women all love bangs until we get them? This is a mystery to me...<br />
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I finished my student teaching. This was the best and hardest two months of my life. Love these kids.</div>
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I made the kids some awards the last day of what I loved about them. They returned the favour!</div>
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Note: I don't know what to do with my hands... and I am very much out of place. </div>
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We transported some goods for my sister. By goods, I mean a weird cat that had fur like a sheep. Story of my life: "I don't know what to do with my arms!"</div>
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S'more s'mores, please!</div>
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I wear lipstick everyday. Doesn't matter what I'm wearing, or where I'm going. The other day I put on some really dark lipstick, and Scott had to gently tell me that I looked terrifying.</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Part Two: My Birthday!... and food.</span><br />
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My birthday! </div>
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I got a new watch. But don't worry about that too much, instead worry about the fact that I have to physically write "tuition" on my hand because I'm so forgetful. </div>
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I was taken out to lunch to my very first food truck! It was scrum-diddly-umptous. </div>
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Homemade fries? Pulled pork? I'm sold. </div>
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Later, Scott took me out to a delicious Italian place called Picco Lino (Picca lina? Picco Lina? I can't remember... By this point I had eaten myself into a coma).</div>
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Gnocchi, and cheese, and gnocchi. </div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> Part Three: Selfies, Plants, and... food.</span><br />
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So the other day Scott was showing our friends that he can put a tube of chapstick in his mouth. He succeeded, and I also managed to take a weirdly lit picture of him looking like he's straight out of an exorcist movie. </div>
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Caught Scotty taking a #sassyselfie.</div>
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Handsome. </div>
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I don't know how it happened, but Scott and I have become the happy parents of an ever growing family of plants. They truly are our new pets. We say hello to them in the morning, Scott sometimes kisses them goodnight (he insists it will help them grow... okay, I do it too!), and I like to take them outside when it's raining and we hang out together. Also, please note that I have used a water pitcher as a makeshift pot for our lavender... It'll do right? New parent problems...<br />
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Aaaaaand, we eat out a lot. </div>
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Just to emphasize my previous point: I have all the best intentions in the world to eat better. If Scott and I eat at home, we are making great choices. The only problem is that sometimes Scott calls me in the middle of an afternoon snack (cultured coconut milk, homemade granola, and fruit), and casually mentions that a food truck selling burgers is open. I didn't even think about leaving my snack behind. Long live red meat and carbs! This is a legitimate issue in our home haha. </div>
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Well, thanks for stinking around!</div>
<br />Kelsey Scotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07390811148517945006noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5077672056781205064.post-64326838148148348332014-05-07T22:21:00.002-06:002014-05-07T22:52:32.205-06:00Stuck In the Middle With YouI'm an 'intro' person of sorts: both introspective and introverted. I would write down a third word starting with "intro" because I'm OCD like that, and I may have just googled "words that start with intro", but alas I don't think I'm very 'introfying', whatever that means. (Just looked it up, and it is 'to increase the impregnating power of '.... hmmm...)<br />
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But yes, let's just talk about introspection, haha. I am a very restless person, and I often feel better after some inward thinking. I am one of those people who wanders the library or the streets just thinking, because it helps me to relax the crap down. I don't know how it happened, but today I realized something very monumental about myself while I was walking around campus. It was cold out, and I was wearing a giant sweater that made me feel very "college-y", and it seemed like the school was dead-- probably because it's spring semester, but nevertheless it was very peaceful and quiet. All my best thinking happens when it's a tiny bit chilly and I'm surrounded by silent brick buildings I tell ya!<br />
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I thought about how I've been feeling lately. First off, last week was a whirlwind for me. I finished classes, my sister-in-law had a baby, my friends got married, and my cute grandmother passed away. This week, some friends had babies, and others announced they were having babies. All these beginnings and finishings, and I couldn't help but feel like I didn't fit into these things. When I heard some friends were expecting, I silently cried in bed as Scott slept on the other side. Not that Scott and I are actively trying to have a baby, but for some reason I started to feel very left out. I felt like I was missing out on some special new adventure. For the next few days that reaction was really bothering me. I didn't understand why it got under my skin so much, and thus started my most recent introspection session.<br />
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The trees around campus are just starting to bud, and the air feels like it's holding onto winter just barely enough to not let you go without a coat and joyfully lounge around outside. It's a really dampening feeling, but today it kept my senses sharp. I wasn't distracted by anything, and so as I walked I started to mull over the idea of just why I shed some tears the other day. At first I decided that it was just because it has been a hard couple of weeks, and that my emotions had caught up with me, but that didn't sit quite right with me. Next I blamed it on the fact that I haven't had much to do, and so I was just overreacting to something because I have been so sedentary lately. Again, this didn't sit right, because as I have just said I am an introvert and I love nothing more than to sit at home and recharge some nights. Finally, I realized just what has been irking me: I am stuck in the middle.<br />
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At the moment, I am off track from most people around me. I'm finishing my undergrad in the spring, whereas most of my class mates finished in April. I'm coming up on my first anniversary, unlike most of my friends who are either single, fresh newlyweds, or marriage veterans with a kid or two. While everyone seems to be finishing up the phase of "figuring it all out", Scott and I seem to be stuck in it, with no near sight of getting out. We are very much in a time where no adventure has started, and no future adventure seems to be coming up any time soon. For this, I started to feel very sad and bitter about things. I felt stuck, and bored, and mostly just left behind on things. I wished that we could be working, and have kids, and heaven forbid even a house (a real house!).<br />
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I thought this over for quite some time, then decided to finally head home. All afternoon I let myself feel more and more sorry for just how "middle-y" mine and Scott's life is, until I saw this:<br />
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A tiny little playlist that Scott probably didn't think twice about making, just for me. Three songs that define his love for me. I snapped out of my introspective "sharpness", and I thought of that song 'Stuck in the Middle With You'.<br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: 15px; text-align: -webkit-center;">Yes I'm stuck in the middle with you,</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: 15px; text-align: -webkit-center;">And I'm wondering what it is I should do,</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: 15px; text-align: -webkit-center;">It's so hard to keep this smile from my face</span><br />
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No idea the meaning of that song, but those lyrics were a comfort at the time. Scott and I are in a time where we are seemingly 'stuck in the middle', with a lot of beginnings and endings ahead of us, but I realized there is something comforting about the middle. It's relaxed, and it's warm, and it's safe. And best of all, he keeps a smile on my face. As our first anniversary comes up, I feel honoured to be stuck with Scott anywhere.</div>
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Especially the middle.</div>
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<br />Kelsey Scotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07390811148517945006noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5077672056781205064.post-85797082051075300402014-04-06T21:13:00.000-06:002014-05-02T15:34:15.487-06:00Mufasa, Mufasa!<div style="text-align: center;">
Tonight I was trying to cook us some dinner. It's Sunday, and so that means I have taken the obligatory weekly shower and let my hair air dry. Scott must have noticed how the steam from the food was blowing my hair up like a balloon, because he informs me, "Man Kels, your hair is really frizzy right now!" I reply that it's Sunday night and that I shouldn't even have to wear clothes if I don't feel like it; I'm quite sassy on Sunday nights. I return to the food, and he disappears somewhere.</div>
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I kid you not, a few minutes later, I feel a brush being pulled through my hair.</div>
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I guess the mane was just too much for poor Scotty.</div>
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I don't know whether to laugh or cry. The kid has such good, hurtful intentions. ;)</div>
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<a href="http://www.bloglovin.com/blog/6818431/?claim=jnbj3z7nhtz">Follow my blog with Bloglovin</a>Kelsey Scotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07390811148517945006noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5077672056781205064.post-33530822757554310872014-03-26T21:25:00.001-06:002014-03-26T21:25:25.042-06:00Life Lessons Lately<br />
I cannot even count the number of times I have logged onto this blog, started a vent session in this little white box, and then quietly closed it. Where have I been the last two months you ask? I have been in what I currently call my fast forward mode. Every once and a while, as farther apart as they seem to be getting, my brain flips a switch and I just. can't. stop. Literally, it never stops. Scott affectionately calls this beast mode, though I think he's referring to some type of gaming thing that I'm completely unaware of. Nevertheless, I have been running in one spot for the past two months, and I'm exhausted: emotionally, physically, mentally, you name it! I have lost the ability to relax, to reflect, and to just sit the freak down. I'm also lacking the ability to purge myself of, well, myself, in writing. I start a sentence, and then my brain sounds the alarm that I have bigger fish to fry. Unfortunately, this has resulted in me having absolutely zero release in the last two months. There are so many things I've wanted to talk about! So many! But instead I fill myself with things that need to be done <i>now</i>, and so everything else gets pushed to the "later" category in my brain.<br />
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Anyways, super long introduction there, but tonight I turned off the part of my brain that I have begun to loathe, and I opened up this window. I've sat here for an hour, and thankfully I was able to just think. Of the critical variety. Man, I love critical thinking. I could preach all day about critical thinking! It doesn't help I'm a teacher, so I have basically been brainwashed into loving it, but today I was grateful for it because it made me ask "why". Why do I do everything in my life? Why do I watch Jeopardy every night? (Okay, most obvious answer ever)<br />
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(Actually- tangent again- tonight I watched this old lady who has been watching Jeopardy for like 30 years faithfully and she finally was on it and she was a teacher. I wanted to be her so bad... But you know, she really screwed up final jeopardy. Never bid too high I tell ya!)<br />
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But yes, critical thinking. As I started asking a lot of questions, I realized that there are so many things that I have learned this past two months that I have been completely oblivious to. Let me now make a nice little list, and share my new found discoveries. Proceed.<br />
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<b>1. Trust yo'self!</b><br />
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Seriously, I just need to trust myself. I tend to second guess myself. Can I pull off red lipstick? Have I suddenly started walking weird, or is it just that I thought about this, and am now walking weird...? (is that just me that does that?) In terms of school, I have had a lot of colleagues and mentors tell me that I have the "thing". The "thing" that teachers need to be successful. They watch me teach and congratulate me after, and I'm all like: "But wait, did you just see what I just saw? Because that was not good..." To which they reply: "If you don't trust in your ability, you will never see yourself succeed." That quote will be on Pinterest someday it's just that darn good.<br />
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<b>2. I <i>cannot </i>do everything myself.</b><br />
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Before starting this semester, I told Scott that it would be hard on us. I had my placement, I saw how rough the situation was, and I prepared for the worst. Well, my expectations were not accurate. I was blown out of the water in a not so good way. After the first few weeks, I had a student go ballistic and call me some vulgar terms. It was a "straw breaking the camel's back" moment. I put on a straight face, and dealt with the situation, only to feel awful after. I went home later, took one look at Scott, and cried my eyes out. I was sad about the situation my students are in, and the difficulties they face <i>everyday, </i>and realized just how useless I am in fixing those problems. But, looking back, that experience needed to happen. I needed to learn that I cannot deal with my problems alone. I needed Scott at that moment. So grateful I have a husband. 50 points to Gryffindor!... er... I mean marriage!<br />
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<b>3. Sometimes you just need to throw the book out the window.</b><br />
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Some days it is necessary to melt chocolate chips in a cup and eat it with a spoon. I have found this to be a great coping mechanism. Cheap therapy! Also, popcorn. Also again, really crappy movies. I need to stop thinking about what I'm <i>supposed</i> to be doing, and just bleeping do what I feel at the moment. The other day I was teaching a lesson, and I decided, "Hey I'm gonna tell the story about when my friends drove into a giant hole because I feel like it!" Best decision I've ever made. Sometimes it doesn't matter if your kids, or yourself, aren't on the straight path to success. Sometimes you need to take a quick detour, eat some food and see some friends, and then get back on your merry way to keep your sanity. Maybe it's the Buddhists I'm surrounded by at school, but I'm really into the idea of having a "path" that has been specially designed for me. There is no general manual for happiness and success.<br />
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Anways, if you made it this long I truly want to congratulate you. I will step off my soap box, and go watch some chick flick with Matthew McConaughey in it.<br />
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Oh, and P.S. How gross does he look in that new movie about aids? Is it any good? Scott and I need a new film to fall in love with. Feel free to suggest us something to watch!<br />
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Mrs. A, out.</div>
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<i>Big thanks to <a href="http://girluntitled-pomo.blogspot.ca/">Sara</a>, because I saw in my news feed she blogged, and then I remembered I have one of these. </i></div>
<br />Kelsey Scotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07390811148517945006noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5077672056781205064.post-996107313200923582014-01-14T17:27:00.002-07:002014-01-14T17:29:40.886-07:00A Cheesy School Assignment<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="text-indent: 36pt;">My mother took
this picture of me as we prepared to leave what we affectionately called “The
Mouse House”. Given that name due to a story too horrific to share, we lived there until my parents decided it was
time to move from our dainty little farmhouse into “town”. </span><span style="text-indent: 36pt;"> </span><span style="text-indent: 36pt;">Every time I see this picture my mind turns to a fluffy pink chair I would lounge in, and the mushroom soup I was oddly obsessed with. I was uncomfortable wearing pants, as you can tell from the photograph, and throughout my childhood I continued
to have a great aversion for this one piece of clothing. I will admit this once got me in trouble,
when I had somehow locked my sisters and myself out of our
house in the middle of the winter, forcing them to tow me over to the
neighbours bare thighs and all. I don't want to admit how old I was when this happened.</span></div>
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<span style="text-indent: 36pt;">Apart from some
humorous stories, this house also holds precious memories of learning. Here I
learned basic mathematics. If you have one mommy cat, and one daddy cat,
together they will equal more kittens than you can count. I learned some hairdressing,
as you can see from my bangs, and so did my mother, as she tried to fix my
mistakes. It was while living in this house that I learned to ride a horse, the
seasons of planting and harvesting, and that you will break your collarbone if
you try to jump from a kitchen table to the couch across the room in one
swift leap of faith.</span></div>
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<span style="text-indent: 36pt;">Above all
though, it is in this house that I began to learn to read, my favourite pastime. When
my mother would bring out the warm towels from the dryer and ask my dad and I
to fold them, we would quickly jump into the pile and read Dr. Seuss books until the heat was gone. This house is far and distant in my memories, yet I hold onto it dearly. Despite being young, I remember packing up the car, holding our cat in my lap, and slowly pulling out of the driveway. When I left that warm and isolated home, I left it fondly, and with thoughts of the
elephant Horton, eggs and ham of the green variety, and the smell of the
prairies on my clothing.</span></div>
Kelsey Scotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07390811148517945006noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5077672056781205064.post-18087453953396289962013-12-11T21:30:00.002-07:002013-12-11T21:32:43.913-07:00Settling Into ThingsI should be studying right now, but I hit a wall about an hour ago and I can't seem to get any will power back. I blame the fact that I wrote two finals today, 3 in class essays and passage citing (blehhhh), and it resulted in a blister on my pinky from rubbing on the paper as I frantically wrote the fastest I could. Being in English is super easy for the most part, there I said it, but then I remember the finals, and the horrible hours spent throwing everything I know onto a piece of paper. Those are the worst. There have been times when my hand has straight up cramped out, only to look at my professor smiling sweetly at my pain. At these moments I simply switch to my left hand and laugh over the struggle they'll have deciphering what I'm trying to write...<br />
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Anyways.<br />
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On a completely different note, Scott and I decided we are over the honeymoon phase. Is that a weird conversation or what? We were both studying the other night, and our desperation levels must have been guinness world record high, because suddenly laying on our bed, talking about anything, and guessing where each other hid the Christmas presents seemed like a night out on the town. As we laid there promising each other with our pinkies that we wouldn't start watching New Girl on Netflix until we both were done exams (I am ashamed to admit I did not keep this promise), Scott turned to me and started asking me questions.<br />
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"If you could eat anything for the rest of your life what would it be?" Uhh, anything that's bad for me.<br />
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"What was your favourite part about our wedding day?" Mmmm, the wedding part? <br />
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As we laid there, asking each other questions, we started to reminisce about our relationship. We talked about the first time we met, and when I gave Scott his first kiss (yeah, I definitely initiated that act…), and when he came home, and when he proposed. We talked and talked, looking back at everything, and suddenly we talked all the way up to the present. We talked about our relationship, and were both amazed to realize how far we've come. I look back at when we were first pronounced man and wife, and feeling like I knew everything about this guy. If only I could have fast forwarded to the next day when I realized Scott does <i>not</i> close the bathroom door…<br />
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At that moment, sitting on our bed, we both had a moment of feeling well acquainted. Reading my mind, Scott said, "I'm so glad we're not in the honeymoon phase anymore." I have to agree. I feel like Scott and I have finally started settling into things. When we were first married there was <i>a lot</i> of adjustment on my part, but we're really starting to get the hang of things. I'm a pouter, but now every time I try to put on the cold shoulder and pucker my lip, I can't keep a straight face for the life of me. I also used to be the queen of shut outs, but now we both realize it's pretty much futile and usually settle things over a big bowl of popcorn. Dill pickle seasoning mandatory. Always. I take pride in the fact that I am becoming less of a brat, and I have to give all of the credit to marriage.<br />
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As I mulled this information over, I turned to Scott and said, "You know, I love you in a totally different way than when I first married you." It's true, too. I don't know about anyone else, but suddenly one day you look at your spouse and you realize that you love them for a lot more than you can comprehend. It's actually overwhelming. When I first got married the excitement of everything being new fuelled a lot of my love, but now it's the consistent, everyday things that I love. I've settled comfortably into my feelings, and there's the distinct feeling that there's no going back from this. I couldn't undo this if I wanted to, and it's oddly unsettling and comforting all at the same time.<br />
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So, in conclusion, we have successfully moved into the "settling in" phase of our marriage, and it feels really nice. Even though Scott drives me crazy sometimes, and even though I can't for the life of me remember to fold the laundry that has been sitting in the hamper for 5 days, there's strange comfort in these quirks and the fact that they're probably never going to change… Sorry Scott.<br />
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I don't know why I feel like I always need to upload a picture? It's a problem, really.</div>
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<br />Kelsey Scotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07390811148517945006noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5077672056781205064.post-13444116158314022872013-11-17T22:40:00.001-07:002013-11-17T22:40:37.476-07:00I'm OutréI've been really trying to get into journaling, but I find myself extremely fake in every entry. It starts as just a simple jotting down of things that have happened, and then I turn super serious, like CNN news during elections serious, and then it turns all emotional, and it's like: "Blessings!" Blaaaaaahh. Anyways, I'm not charming or funny via journal… Actually I'm really not that charming via any sort of medium (insert: every conversation I have). For some reason, 50 years down the road, when my granddaughter is reading my journal, because she's super righteous and loves family history, I want her to remember that her great G-ma Kels actually had a sense of humour. I want to be that cool grandma!<br />
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So tonight I sat down, and<i> </i>I imagined this future granddaughter of mine reading my story of me and Noah, and how he built this house for me that had blue shutters, and read to me everyday our story about our undying love… wait, what? But really, I tried to be funny, and I sounded like I was doing a stand up comedy routine.<br />
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So then I put the pencil down, and I realized that I'm being a little bit neurotic about this. Rather than imagining the plot to a really sad grandma-granddaughter movie plot where she visits me everyday because I'm super cool, but then I have to die at the end, <i>because for some reason that's always necessary (?!), </i>instead I acted like a normal person. I simply wrote about my day.<br />
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Dear Diary,<br />
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Today I tried to high five with someone at church, and it didn't go very well. Afterwards, it slipped out during sunday school that I happened to have put mascara on Scott's moustache the other day. And yes, it is a lot thicker than you think. We had the home teachers over, I napped for two hours, then when I woke up my bangs were all curly, and I had an uncanny likeness to Carey Mulligan in Pride and Prejudice before she was smoking hot and instead looked scraggly all the time. Finally, around dinner time I watched Scott mistake a pita for a tortilla, desperately trying to separate the pita in two so he could make a quesadilla… I know, I don't get it either.<br />
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Have a great night.<br />
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Sincerely,<br />
G-Ma Kelsey<br />
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Also, here is a picture of Carey Mulligan in case this is the future and no one understands my popular culture references.<br />
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<br />Kelsey Scotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07390811148517945006noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5077672056781205064.post-66365131633549378932013-10-01T13:17:00.002-06:002013-10-01T13:51:29.626-06:00That Time I Became Too Cool for Eight Dollar Jeans<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">This year I'm not playing on any kind of sports team. I was elated at the idea initially, but now I find myself incredibly bored and inactive. Scott plays on a volleyball team that I found on kijiji. Seriously, what can't you find on that place? I had the idea after I watched that one documentary where that guys lives off craigslist for a month that I can't remember the name of... yep. Anyways, tangent, I have become hyper-competitive with everything, and I'm blaming it on the fact that I have no outlet at the moment. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">The other day Scott was studying, I was studying, and I had the tremendous idea to duel it out via Monopoly Deal. For those who have not played this game, it is <i>highly</i> addictive. To make a long story short, I beat Scott five times in a row. I was floating with happiness. I had gotten my fill of competition and could now effectively study. That night while we were going to bed Scott let it slip that he had let me win a few times. Based on his face I knew he wasn't lying, and in a fit of anger I found myself saying in all seriousness, "You wanna play?! Come at me bro!" And that was the moment I realized I needed to be done with Monopoly Deal for a while... </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">So I started out with that story to give you an idea of my hyper-competition at the moment, but this has gotten to actually be a problem for me. Let me use another story to explain why.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">On Saturday I woke up and decided I <i>needed </i>new jeans. I didn't care what they would cost, I'd even go into my students loans to have them if I had to. I told Scott of my huge need and he took a look at my closet, which contains more pairs of jeans than I would like to acknowledge and asked quizzically, "But... Why?" I told him it was a stress relief and would make me feel better. He simply nodded his head and followed me out to the mall. While we were there my eyes peered for all of the right brands. We went to some stores I knew we couldn't afford and I longed for the cute jeans. Knowing Scott absolutely despises "brand slaves" I resisted the urge and decided I would get something a little cheaper. I walked by stores that I used to love because they just "weren't good enough", or "not good enough quality". I couldn't find anything I liked and the guilt of spending so much money was starting to get to me, but it was like there was a voice in my head telling me I couldn't settle for something "cheap". Finally, after all hope seemed to be lost, Scott pulled me into Forever 21 and pointed out that there were jeans for $8. Eight dollhairs! I can't remember the last time I saw jeans for that cheap. I refused. I was not going to try on jeans that only cost 8 dollars. Scott encouraged me, and what do you know I loved them. As I went up to the cash register I remember being embarrassed that the girl putting me through would think less of me. I was embarrassed for saving a buck.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Ever since that event I have been disgusted with myself. When did I become a slave to consumerism? More and more I keep seeing people buying things they can't afford, and have looked back to realize I have fallen into that category. I look at families with one income, and probably just an average one at that, and wonder how these moms and dad's can afford to buy that certain pair of pants, or shop at that store. I see babies in brand name clothes and I think, don't they just poop in that? Now, don't get me wrong, I believe that we should feel good about how we look, but where is the limit? I read a really interesting psychological study that people's minds have evolved to believe that assets=wealth, even if that person has substantial debt. That basically means that even if the person is thousands of dollars in debt, if they have a nice house, nice clothes, and a nice car they're rich. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">When my parents were newly married, and my dad was going to school, they had two little girls and both worked. My mother had two jobs, my dad had one job and was a full time student, and everyday would drop their kids off at a daycare to make sure they had enough to live. My parents knew what hard work was, and because of that, many years later, their hard work has paid off to living comfortably. My parents are not wealthy, but they are very comfortable. They don't have a huge house, and when I ask why they don't build their dream house, the simple answer from my mother is that she doesn't need it, nor does she need any kind of debt. (Side note: these are the parents that used to, for family home evening, make me go over everything we had spent money on that month and mark whether it was a want or a need...)</span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> I am in awe of that, and when I look at myself all I can wait for is to have my dream house, with my dream husband, and not work for the rest of my life. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">So why am I like this? I have two theories:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">1.) I have to compete against everyone, even people I love. I have to feel like I look better, richer (even though we all know that's not true), and to hide from them the fact that Scott and I do struggle.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">2.) As a generation, we have become obsessed with ourselves. We love ourselves above anyone else, and for that reason have become obsessed with our appearance. Look at every social network, and how often people portray how they really feel. Rather than enjoying my life in privacy, I have to exploit every happy moment just to simply show it off.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">With that I've decided that I'm going to be more realistic. I'm going to actually acknowledge my insecurities rather than hide them behind things. I'm going to let Scott dress like a scrub, and I'm going to wear cheap jeans, because in reality the only people that really care about those things is myself, and people who share this similar self-obsession.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Let me just say, I'm grateful Scott has this whole "minimal living" thing figured out. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Anyways, here's a cute picture of Scott, because what's a blog post without a picture?</span><br />
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Kelsey Scotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07390811148517945006noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5077672056781205064.post-46157821750918627252013-08-29T14:40:00.001-06:002013-08-29T14:40:06.456-06:00One of Those Apologetic Summer Posts<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
I haven't posted in a long time, I'm sorry!</div>
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Throughout the summer I've sat down, looked at my computer screen, written a sentence or two, then out of boredom of myself shut the computer and walked off. I've actually written quite a bit of things this summer, but it never seems quite right when I go to send it off to space. In all honesty this summer has been slow, quiet, and interesting all at the same time. I've been unbelievably busy, yet very still. That's been one of my favourite things about married life. I feel like in times of busy-ness, it's for things that matter. Single life is full of so much mundane quickness, that I always felt busy over nothing. It's nice to do what matters, then come home to a spouse to relax. People always joke about watching way too much netflix when you get married, or that you become boring. In all honesty, I love being boring! It's so nice to go to bed early because the person I would normally stay up late to talk to is right beside me. No matter what, at the end of my day I have a time to just reflect on my life. That never happened when I was single. I was so obsessed with the image of myself that I didn't ever just sit and think about what I really was.<br />
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No one told me that when you get married life suddenly becomes one giant observation of yourself. To say I've learned a bit is an understatement, yet every time I go to write something about marriage it feels unnatural. I'm married now, so it's time for gush and mush and all that good stuff, right? In all honesty, marriage has been the best decision for the two of us, but the hardest change for me. Day after day I see the person I was and try to move away from it, and it's really, really hard. It's hard to go from being consumed by your own self to suddenly thinking about another person in all decisions. It's hard to be selfish, and then switch to selfless. Luckily I have a lot of time to practice, and a spouse who comes naturally to selflessness. I remember after a month of being married arguing over something really dumb. Scott left to go do some bank stuff, and while he was gone I was brooding over what I had said, and realizing what I really felt. I have realized one thing so far that has been invaluable: more often than not, <i>when I am unhappy, it is because of my own doing</i>. I realized how selfish I had been and set out to do something nice for Scott. I showered, got dressed, and was ready to take Scott out for lunch when he walks in with flowers and a picnic. I laugh now over how ridiculous my next sentence was, "Scott, what are you doing?! I was going to do something nice for you! You beat me to it!"(as said in my most exasperated voice)<br />
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Scott and I have been really lucky all summer. We're attempting (emphasis on attempting) to live debt free while we go to school, and have been blessed like I can't believe. It's like as soon as we got married, the universe decided we deserved some great things. I guess it was the right choice then, eh? We've worked all summer up at Waterton serving, have found a great apartment for school, and have gone on two great trips to Hawaii and Atlanta. If that's not lucky I don't know what is. Someday when I'm feeling less preachy, and more share-y, I'll tell you guys all about the trips. For now though, some pictures are just going to have to suffice!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">so miserable... haha. #hateheat</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">ate waaaaaay too much big scoop.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">we love U of A!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bears Hump before work.</td></tr>
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<span style="text-align: center;">And now, some of our Atlanta trip (of which I took few pictures... unless it was food)</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Atlanta temple!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">deep fried apple pie. #nowords</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Georgia aquarium!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">nachooooo!</td></tr>
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Goodbye, and may we see you soon, Southern Alberta!</div>
Kelsey Scotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07390811148517945006noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5077672056781205064.post-46693932635549474862013-06-10T12:08:00.000-06:002013-06-10T12:09:45.696-06:00Tying the KnotI have come out of hiding. I feel like a month is sufficient enough time to enter the cyber world again. For some reason I'm always super creeped out when people get married and the next morning they're back on facebook or instragram, and their name has been changed. I used to think, "Everyone knows you just DID it. Go and hide!"(Too much?)<br />
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I laugh now because the day after we were married we were sitting in the airport, both on our phones, surfing all the social networks. I think Scott went to go instagram a wedding picture and I begged him, "Please no! It's too soon!" I don't know why I'm weird about that stuff... anyways.... haha.<br />
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The night before we were married I decided last minute (haha) I was going to put together a slide show and so I was up until the wee hours of the morning. Call me crazy but I know I wouldn't have been able to sleep anyways. I was completely exhausted in the morning. My friend Jordan showed up around 8 to do my hair and I was barely dragging myself out of bed, which is pretty typical of me everyday to leave waking up to the last minute. She gave me a book of letters from both mine and Scott's family and my close friends. It was so special to read that while I got ready. I had a hard time keeping it together but it all honesty it was perfect for setting the mood that day.<br />
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As I drove to the temple with my mom I was panicking. It's crazy the amount of emotions you feel that day. Every fear and self doubt came streaming back and I would constantly turn to my mom and say, "This is it. Is this happening? Oh my gosh." It's a scary thought realizing what a big step marriage is. That fear didn't go away. As I got ready to be married I remember my stomach being in a giant knot. My hands were sweating, my throat was dry, and I just didn't look all that well.<br />
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But then, as I'm sure it is with every bride who gets married in the temple, you walk into a room to be married and see your family around you. I have never felt so much love in my life, and I bawled like a newborn babe the entire time. Literally don't remember anything except that I was so happy (oops?). That's the best feeling in the world. I would endure the horrors of planning again just for that.<br />
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The rest of the day I remember bits of. By the time we left Cardston I hadn't eaten all day because I had had no appetite and then downed a litre of water while Scott and I drove back to Magrath for the family dinner. This resulted in me eating way too quickly later and pretty much feeling horrible the rest of the day. The family dinner was fun and delicious, my slideshow didn't work until it was just my friends and family around (which looking back I'm very happy about), but in all honesty I was on the verge of up-chucking everything I had just eaten. During the reception I would smile and shake peoples hands and then immediately have to sit down when there was a break so I wouldn't pass out. Ha.... ha...<br />
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Putting that aside though, I loved everything. I remember driving up to Calgary that night and tearing up because I was so grateful. That is really the best part about a wedding day: being surrounded by people who love you all day and seeing the guy you genuinely love become very permanent in your life. I had so much service given to me by so many people leading up to and on our wedding day. What a wonderful way to start a marriage!<br />
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Sometimes Scott and I will be talking and I'll just have to blurt, "Is this real? Are we actually married?!" Also can't tell you how many times Scott has turned to me at the most random moments and said, "Kels... you're my wife!" It's like it's not even real, but then it also feels very natural. Kind of a weird thing to experience.<br />
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We don't have any wedding day pictures yet, but we took some quick bridals a week before to have at the reception. I would encourage everyone to do this. Have some quick bridals before, the day of only take family pictures and a few together, and then plan a later session at any place you would like. So much less stress. We did our bridals in maybe 40 minutes because the sun just wasn't the best that day and I was freezing! They turned out great for what we wanted and a big thanks to Heather! If you wanna look at them go <a href="https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.534228299951626.1073741826.102399919801135&type=1">here</a>.<br />
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(I don't know how to upload pictures in good quality on here...)</div>
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<br />Kelsey Scotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07390811148517945006noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5077672056781205064.post-37925801157640609812013-04-08T23:00:00.000-06:002013-04-08T23:10:53.368-06:00How Food Poisoning Got Me EngagedScott always loves to ask me questions about when he first came home. He's a pretty nostalgic guy, and loves to reminisce about special little moments. This weekend he asked me when I knew I wanted to marry him. I gave him the romantic answer of: "I dunno... just seemed like it was right I guess." That answer right there is why Scott, days after we got engaged, exclaimed, "Kels, you're just not romantic!" when I burped after he told me how much he loves me...<br />
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I have been thinking about when I <i>really </i>knew, and for some reason I can only think of one specific time. I wish I could say this was a really tender, romantic moment, but really it was a mess. Literally, a MESS.<br />
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Scott and I went to dinner at State & Main, and, feeling adventurous, I opted out of my usual meat and potatoes (like a real man!) and went for a spinach and balsamic flatbread. <i>I can honestly say this is one of the worst decisions I have ever made</i>. After some weird flavours I couldn't quite place, and some unbelievably soggy spinach, I finally gave up on the dish and ate some of Scott's food. Scott entered that restaurant with a girlfriend and left with Satan's spawn. I was the definition of "hangry".<br />
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We drove back to Cardston, and I knew my whining was driving Scott nuts. I decided to shut up before he changed his mind about ever wanting to be around me again. When we got back to his house his whole family seemed to be there. I had planned on staying over, but didn't realize just how many siblings would be staying there too. Scott has eight, by the way... yep. I decided it was probably better for me to just go home and settled down for some conversation and games. At first I was fine, but then something started to turn in my stomach. It wasn't nausea... It was just a really weird pinching feeling in my stomach. I've been having stomach problems since October, so I figured it was just another bout of cramping that I tend to get when I eat too much fatty food, dairy, or basically anything that's not a vegetable. I laid down on the couch while everyone talked around me, Scott rubbing my feet, and pretended like I was just "really tired" when in reality I was imagining the scene in <i>Alien</i> when she becomes impregnated by those aliens and it's super creepy.<br />
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I must have fallen asleep because I woke up around 1 with Scott sleeping at the other end of the couch. I nudged him, told him I was driving home, and that I would see him the next day. Scott, being the nice guy he is, just told me to go sleep in his bed and that he would sleep on the couch so I wouldn't have to drive home so late. I countered that I didn't feel well and should probably just drive home. I stopped in mid sentence, looked at scott, and said:<br />
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"Scott, I think I'm si------"<br />
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I didn't get to finish that sentence before I was hurtling towards the bathroom fighting back projectile vomit. I'm not kidding, I have never barfed that hard in my entire life. I'm also not kidding when I say I didn't quite make it to the toilet. Aka I barfed all over his mother's bathroom wall. I curled up in the fetal position, thinking that this would be the last of my life. I heard Scott knocking softly on the bathroom door, "Kels?! Are you okay?!" I told him to "get out, don't come any closer!" and cleaned up the mess I had left. After I laid on the ground too afraid to move. I knew this war was not over, and I wasn't sure how prepared I was for it.<br />
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Some time passed and Scott attempted to come in but I wouldn't have it. We had been "re-dating" for three weeks, and even though I had dated him for years before, I felt like this was something no one should ever see. I had puke all over me, you guys. I started to cry from embarrassment, and puked some more. It was a horrible routine. I would curl up in a ball, puke, clean the toilet again so his mother would never know, and resume the position. I thought things were eventually getting better, but I was wrong.<br />
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I WAS SO VERY WRONG.<br />
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The food had started to go down my digestive system, and suddenly I was faced with<b> the dilemma</b>. Those who have experienced this know what I'm talking about. Which takes priority? It's never an easy decision. I won't go into details but basically I was switching from front to back for about 20 more minutes. Along with that, I had also been puking so hard my nose had started bleeding.... So when I was crawling over to the cleaning supplies I realized I had been dripping blood all across his mothers bathroom mats. Sue, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry I did this to your bathroom.<br />
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So where was Scott this whole time? He was coming in and out of the bathroom whenever there was an intermission between attacks, holding my hand, and bringing me a glass of water. By this point I just really didn't care, and being the drama queen I am, I wanted to see his face before I died. Eventually the storm passed and I tentatively left the bathroom in hopes of some sleep. What did Scott do? He held me close while I shook uncontrollably. I smelled like something that no one should ever smell, and he didn't say a word the entire time. That is love. I'm pretty sure he even kissed me once, as disgusting as that is. I remember constantly begging him to breath through his mouth, and apologizing for the mess I was.<br />
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"I had diarrhea and barfed at the same time..." I informed him. <i>why did i bring this up?! I was seriously so delusional all night...</i><br />
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"I know... I could hear you."<br />
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"And you still love me?"<br />
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"Of course, don't be silly."<br />
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"Okay... Tell your mom I'm sorry I ruined her bath mats."<br />
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I then passed out for the night, but not before thinking about what he said. "Of course, don't be silly." Up until that point I had been silly and insecure, but some how puking and knowing that if Scott could handle holding someone who looked and smelled like... well, you know... that <i>of course </i>he could love me at other times too.<br />
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<br />Kelsey Scotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07390811148517945006noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5077672056781205064.post-26357392958495291432013-03-04T19:54:00.000-07:002013-03-04T19:54:30.215-07:00Your Opinion, Please!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
I wasn't lying in my previous post when I spoke of my feelings on wedding planning... It also doesn't help that I'm the most indecisive person <i>ever. </i>I'm getting my dress made, and it will have elements of organza and some different laces... That's all I'm going to say ;). So keep that in mind while you skim these head bands, and <i>PLEASE, </i>if you can, leave a comment about what headpiece is your favourite!</div>
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This will most likely be how I make all of my future decisions... So consider yourself my planners.</div>
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Option #1:</div>
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Option #2:</div>
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Option #3:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOm7IgijZezo-GD2IJZ4OhjvvDUrc_ULqHpktYtcAW5iRt-eF3KpIDCTHrMsTGazjiLTaZ9W9ScAmmuMqvOmOmO9Wq0jZXB1HDXbtlpoVQIpPDoONGtl-NUXxRWIipFf0g49c2sJhZVHg/s1600/il_570xN.413350745_ijys.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOm7IgijZezo-GD2IJZ4OhjvvDUrc_ULqHpktYtcAW5iRt-eF3KpIDCTHrMsTGazjiLTaZ9W9ScAmmuMqvOmOmO9Wq0jZXB1HDXbtlpoVQIpPDoONGtl-NUXxRWIipFf0g49c2sJhZVHg/s320/il_570xN.413350745_ijys.jpg" width="317" /></a></div>
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Kelsey Scotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07390811148517945006noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5077672056781205064.post-23157101638791737182013-02-26T11:25:00.003-07:002013-02-26T11:31:54.715-07:00A Really Long Post(This post is all over the place.... sorry!)<br />
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Marriage has always been an absolutely terrifying thing to me. I mean, sure, my parents have been married for over 30 years and they're happy, but for some reason that never really convinced me that it was "my" thing. That level of commitment is horrifying. I couldn't wrap my head around the idea of being <i>stuck</i> with the same person for, well, FOREVER. I will admit there were times where my pinterest was blowin' up with dresses and bouquets... but that can be attributed to the fact that I watch <i>Four Weddings </i>and <i>Say Yes to the Dress </i>every day<i>.</i><br />
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<i></i>It was easy to get excited about a wedding... but definitely not a marriage. I used to say to my girlfriends, "I just want a fake fiancé so I can have a ring and get cute pictures... " or "Wouldn't it be great if we got a wedding but didn't have to be married after?" If I could have had it my way I would've dated my boyfriends for years and years, never actually committing for the rest of my life. If you can't tell, I was... and am... really selfish.<br />
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I hadn't spoken to Scott for a looooooong time, and in all honesty I couldn't really remember anything all that great about him. I remembered that he was a ginger... and that was about it. I didn't want to date him, and when he repeatedly asked me to be his girlfriend I gave him a definite <i>no.</i> I was confused, he was frustrated, and the situation was just a huge mess.</div>
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<i> </i>But the weird thing is that just seeing him a few times I couldn't stop thinking about him. I couldn't stop noticing how kind and happy and generous he was. It was so easy to be around him, and when we were together it was like I never stopped dating him and we were the same. Then again, we were also different. I was more willing to say I was wrong and he wasn't such a push over. We had both grown up and like a typical RM he was ready to get down to business. I remember him repeatedly telling me, "I'm not messing around here Kels... So you shouldn't be either."<br />
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So then all of the sudden I was dating him, and then I was telling him I loved him, and then he wasn't going down to BYU anymore. Things were happening <i>fast</i> and, pardon my french, I was crapping my pants. I had the feeling like I didn't deserve this. I didn't deserve to be happy and in love and I didn't deserve these kind of things to happen to me so quickly. I remember having daily panic attacks wondering what people were going to think of me. What would they say? Do they think I'm crazy? Am I crazy? As I let criticism and hurt enter my heart I noticed that it was impossible for me to have love and happiness in it also. Finally one day as I was fretting about what people were saying or about what they thought I had the distinct thought come into my mind saying, <i>"When it comes down to it, do you care what they think or what Heavenly Father thinks?" </i>I had a good long prayer and I remember feeling so peaceful over this guy.</div>
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I'm embarrassed to admit that I cared more about what <i>acquaintances </i>had<i> </i>thought of me. I had gotten my answer. I knew it was right to be with Scott, and I shamefully admit that I doubted that simply because of what people, who didn't really know or love me, were saying about me. After I realized that, the ball just started rolling. I finally accepted that I wanted to marry Scott, and all of the sudden I was the girl who wanted a <i>marriage. </i>ME!! WANTING MARRIAGE!!!! </div>
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So basically here we are. In almost lightning speed I have gotten engaged, and I still can't believe it. It's not so fast considering we dated for two years, right? At least that's what I tell myself to ease the left over committment fears that are piece-by-piece disappearing. Although, I can honestly say that since a wedding has been made a reality, I have zero interest in actually planning one. I'm not kidding. Did anyone else experience this? It is not fun. Center pieces? Who cares! Food? People can bring a lunch! haha, just kidding... Consider this my offer to whomever: will you be my wedding planner?<br />
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I seriously love this guy. Just yesterday I made him dinner and we sat down to watch The Bachelor. He was so enthralled and I laughed so hard over this. He was honestly so concerned for these girls and when Ashlee went off he looked so thoughtful and heartbroken for her, because I think he is the only person in the world who fell for that tear-stricken video for Sean. "You know, I really think she loved him Kels...." hahaha he kills me. Right before I came back to Canada from reading week my grandpa sat me down and said, "Kelsey, that man will make you laugh for the rest of your life. He will always love you." It was a tender moment, and I'm happy to say that I really do think that will be the case.<br />
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Oh, and P.S. as of now Scott's dead set on Catherine, and I am too. You go girl!<br />
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Kelsey Scotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07390811148517945006noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5077672056781205064.post-26100815946448244652013-01-04T12:36:00.001-07:002013-01-04T12:40:24.038-07:00... yolo?I feel like I need to mention something that drives me up the wall...<br />
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<i><span style="font-size: large;">The YOLO mentality.</span></i><br />
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Can I just express how much I hate that saying and all that it stands for? I remember being in class and a student saying, "Oh I didn't study for my exam... YOLO!" What the heck does that even mean? It's as though failing to be responsible, or doing what we have to, can be neglected because "you only live once". This confuses me because shouldn't that idea of only being able to do this once provoke the opposite? This line of thought honestly infuriates me, and mostly because until about a month ago this was exactly how I thought.<br />
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The past six months I have been a different person than I actually am. All I wanted was to leave Edmonton, school, and family behind to partake of this yolo-ism. I looked at my friends who were married or those having children and I laughed. Their lives were over. all I wanted was to be single and travel the world, ignoring any type of rational thinking, and acting purely on emotion. The problem though, is that I didn't ever "find" myself with this thinking. If anything, I became more miserable. My attitude turned entirely towards the world, and I wanted more and I needed more and my life was a constant competition. I couldn't be happy for anyone and this whole "living only once" was turning into not living at all. I remember in November thinking, "Now if I just go on a big trip in February that can carry me over until the summer... then I could take out a loan and go to Asia or something..." As I looked forward to these impractical and illusional thoughts of "happiness" I felt almost a hand slapping me across the face. Here I was in school, doing the things that I wanted, and all I could think about was what was next. My next great adventure, or the next "expression of myself". Barf.<br />
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As the month of November went on I made many friends from all religions and lifestyles. I realized something during that time: I didn't want their lives. As kind and as fun as these people were, they were so lost. They didn't know what they wanted in their lives and seemed to be biding their time until they figured it out. I realized that was not me. I wanted to grow up, I wanted to live traditionally, and I wanted the things that I know make me happy. As I sat the other night with some girlfriends and talked about the world changing, I realized there isn't time to mess around. It's times to make goals that are realistic and be productive. I feel like I'm preaching but trust me when I say I am not perfect at this. Sometimes I still have that minor panic attack that I'm not "living" enough, but then I take a step back and I look at my family members and I realize that they have it. They're happy, and they have lives much fuller than mine could have ever been alone.<br />
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So with that I plan on making this year one of growth, eternal perspectives, enduring love and relationships, and, above all, one that is centered around principles and doctrine that I know produce happiness.Kelsey Scotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07390811148517945006noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5077672056781205064.post-77238355809334681162012-12-04T21:31:00.001-07:002012-12-04T21:31:28.478-07:00Classroom StoriesSo I'm teaching a 20-2 class, right? I just have to write on here so I can tell more people how hilarious this situation is. The class is split into four quadrants or cliques. The first quadrant contains the people who reallllllly want to be in the academic stream and are working their butt off to do it. The second quadrant are the people who are smart enough to do anything they wanted, but would rather do anything BUT work that is school related. The third are the people who don't know what day it is and often times smell a lot like weed. The fourth, and the one I'm having the most difficulty with, is the jersey shore section. They all wear really nice jeans, are really friendly, and have either spiked dark hair or a big poof. Students who are in lower level classes are usually a lot more down to Earth and real with teachers. If they don't like something you've planned, they tell you how boring or dumb it is. If they like you then they want to know all about your life. So far I've convinced them my name is Renesme (hahaha) and that I'm 30 with two kids to keep them from adding me on Facebook... They pretend to buy it. I really think these kids are great, but seriously I just have had the strangest things happen with them. I'll give you a minor example....<br />
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So on Friday we were reading as a class (we're doing Macbeth right now). I put everyone in a reading circle so I could keep an eye on them and get people who hide in the corners a bit more involved. Everything was going great! People who don't usually read were, everyone seemed to be reading along and cellphone use was fairly minimal. As I'm sitting by some students reading I hear this soft, but obvious smooching sound. I turn to this boy, we'll call him Pete, who is kissing the girl's hand next to him. I roll my eyes and ignore it. A little while later the sound gets louder and I turn to see he's moving up the girl's arm now, all the while kissing and whispering sweet nothings. This guy was wheelin! I was in such shock I just sat there as I heard, <i>"Yo, baby girl, Imma love you and kiss you all day."</i> Suddenly the whole class is staring at this couple with me, probably not with the same shocked look, but none the less transfixed that this is actually happening in a classroom. The girl is giggling and Pete is pretty much ready to go for the make out when one boy out of nowhere says, <i>"Yo, Miss Scott you betta intervene or there be some intercourse soon!"</i><br />
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I thank the boy for using the word intercourse and separate the two. Pete turns to me, as angry as can be, and says,<i> "Miss Scott, ain't you ever heard that when a boy's wheelin' you best not be stealin'?"</i><br />
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Sorry Pete, but I just can't allow an illegitimate child on my watch...<br />
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<i><br /></i>Kelsey Scotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07390811148517945006noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5077672056781205064.post-36376580315209376482012-11-25T10:43:00.000-07:002012-11-25T10:43:06.420-07:00I'm A Grown Up!I'm just going to say it- teaching high school is a lot harder than I thought. At least twice this week I've debated whether I should have just gone into elementary. I'm not saying teaching elementary is easy... but my biggest struggle so far has been the material. Just on Thursday I was surprised to learn I had to read Macbeth this weekend and have a unit ready to go for review by Monday and to teach by Tuesday. Oh and on top of that let's throw 40 practice 30-1 diplomas for you to mark while you're at home too! I feel like my brain is about to explode. I'm really grateful, don't get me wrong, but I don't think I've ever worked this much in my entire life (I've had a hard life, eh?). I have developed a new found respect for teachers. I look at my mentor teacher who has two IB and all dash one (10-1, 20-1, and 30-1) classes. How do they have time to have a life?! I've gone to Superstore once since I started and that was almost too time consuming. I wake up at 6 and go to bed at midnight and I still can't find enough time in the day to do anything outside of working than to enjoy one episode of jeopardy.<br />
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I should look at the positive though. Teaching is really fulfilling. I can honestly say that I laugh all day long at these kids. Plus, for the most part my students sit there like angels soaking up everything I tell them. Can anyone say power trip?! It's awesome. Just the other day I was walking to the car when one of my 10 IB's yelled: "HEY MISS SCOTT!" I turned and he was waving ferociously. It was the best feeling. I also love that no day is ever the same, and no class is ever the same. Just on Friday I was teaching a class on gender roles in our film study unit with 20-1's when it turned into a full out sexual education lesson. Has anyone seen the movie <i>Pleasantville</i>? Try explaining the bath tub part (awkward!). I love the choice I've made. I love that I am constantly learning new things. Every lesson I am amazed at just how much I can teach these kids, and also scared that I won't teach them enough things. It's an exciting job! A lot of work sometimes, but for the most part exciting.<br />
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It's strange that I am finally a real grown up. I get to wear power suits everyday! Mostly because I have a baby face and have to look older, but still, sometimes when I walk down the hall in one of those things I feel invincible. It's weird that in just a short time I will actually be (or hopefully will be) getting paid to do this.<br />
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Best. Feeling. Ever. (Sorry for the sentence fragments haha)<br />
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<br />Kelsey Scotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07390811148517945006noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5077672056781205064.post-17145232137737001982012-10-29T17:25:00.004-06:002012-10-29T17:25:55.169-06:00The Help, H-E-L-P.Dear reader,<br />
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I need help. I have been a little stressed lately. I'm just getting into my finals this week and then I jump right into student teaching in a few days. Did I tell you where I'm going?! Ross Sheppard High School teaching grade 10IB & 20-1 English. I welcome your prayers for this small town white girl, it's a culture shock every time I visit.<br />
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I can't handle stress well. When midterms rolled around a month ago I didn't sleep the entire week. You might think I'm joking but I literally did not sleep until my last test and then I didn't wake up for about a day. Oops? This has never happened before but I think I've just been feeling overwhelmed. My classes are not the hardest I've ever taken, but for some reason they're absolutely terrifying me. Maybe it's the impending doom of graduation and the reality of getting a job just on the horizon (ok, it IS!)... I need your help on how you handle stress. How do you get yourself to sleep on those really bad days? I'm also experiencing some migraines on the really bad days, and just some tension headaches for most of the time. I tried some pain killers but most don't seem to really work on me. For real, I take a T3 and nothing happens... So if you have anything natural I welcome it. So far the only thing thats been working is sleep, but it's not really practical to do 10 hours a night and then nap for 2 or 3 everyday because I just need to get stuff done.<br />
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So please, PLEASE, help me out here!<br />
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Sincerely,<br />
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Sad Face Emoticon<br />
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Oh, and P.S. If you could also tell me how you felt about <i>The Perks of Being a Wallflower </i>(the book, not the movie) please share. I hated it and I can't tell if I'm missing something or not...<br />
<br />Kelsey Scotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07390811148517945006noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5077672056781205064.post-56529581168512841682012-09-18T19:00:00.001-06:002012-09-18T23:29:04.956-06:00My Summer Post?I feel like I need to address a part of me that I've been hiding for a long time. I, Kelsey Scott, am not madly in love with Waterton. It feels so good to get that off my chest. I, also, do not pretend to love Waterton, nor do I think it is the greatest place on Earth. I mean, come on! There's way cooler places out there!<br />
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I had never quite understood the infatuation people have with it until this summer. You see, I tend to have themes to my summers. One will be all about my friends, or another will be losing weight (which never works? haha), and this summer somehow became about hiking. I don't love hiking. I mostly tolerate it, with a few moments where I actually enjoy it. My butt always hurts after (?) and I usually have a sunburn. For some odd reason though, I decided I was going to hike more this summer and see if I could get that dislike out of me.<br />
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I hiked a few times in Waterton and I really wasn't that thrilled. Mostly because one of them was The Summit and I have been doing that one every year for what feels like a decade. But then I went and did some really cool ones in Glacier (pictures to follow) and then before I came back up to Edmonton I spent an entire week in the park. I loved it! It was so relaxing and quiet and I didn't have to use my brain once! I thought to myself: <i>I could get used to this... in another part of the world... but something similar to this...</i> My attitude was still a little against Waterton, but it was warming up.<br />
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When I came back up for school I got to go to Elk Island one sunday. It's really beautiful out there and there's wild buffalo just walking around and it's not that far of a drive. As we drove down the road, looking out the window, I kept thinking, <i>where the heck are all of the mountains? This place sucks!</i> I gasped. Had I said that? I felt as though I was betraying my prairie heritage. But really, I miss seeing mountains. Maybe not hiking them... but, ya know, looking from a safe distance when the sun is setting. Who have I become? I do not know, and I guess we'll have to wait until next summer if this mountain thing sticks.<br />
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Welp, I'm done talking. Here's some pictures.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg1MqyUGvUL0W2wdKiTg7j5itGPB8Gsw99Rduffl00mHLfv6q-Qxl_gZcu2q5Yrw434zC_3KsVav2OpI2AMAlbzmESwbiKnfC2F49pXmVL9DYut07XIDt1New2x8r4bP4t8Cog5n9K0xs/s1600/IMG_2520.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg1MqyUGvUL0W2wdKiTg7j5itGPB8Gsw99Rduffl00mHLfv6q-Qxl_gZcu2q5Yrw434zC_3KsVav2OpI2AMAlbzmESwbiKnfC2F49pXmVL9DYut07XIDt1New2x8r4bP4t8Cog5n9K0xs/s320/IMG_2520.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">shows on backwards, brushing his teeth in the driveway.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYCmzyZTQp7F0ihyphenhypheno8-zYJ6zZVurnCC_IEGTcJ8-fgeUMBY4HLlDIf6oigpQyhN9LWHoSOs8JAY3J1ojKeuyGRVu3S-94uYaijKrLzCotyYudXh5EuO4XRMSHTSfGGMSrm4iH83BO6bJY/s1600/IMG_2521.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYCmzyZTQp7F0ihyphenhypheno8-zYJ6zZVurnCC_IEGTcJ8-fgeUMBY4HLlDIf6oigpQyhN9LWHoSOs8JAY3J1ojKeuyGRVu3S-94uYaijKrLzCotyYudXh5EuO4XRMSHTSfGGMSrm4iH83BO6bJY/s320/IMG_2521.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyIH7fsT_9UMMOhiq7UMdjPW7vbxbFDjpZpavCwwNEuRpvq9z1g6lsdbbXXpZjJsx9SiTNqxCicu5cvRyVB1MgCSAYMoLyzBMnny3zNKufHC9dEDQpN5BQCtFyddhBoWJleU2Svc-o314/s1600/IMG_2523.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyIH7fsT_9UMMOhiq7UMdjPW7vbxbFDjpZpavCwwNEuRpvq9z1g6lsdbbXXpZjJsx9SiTNqxCicu5cvRyVB1MgCSAYMoLyzBMnny3zNKufHC9dEDQpN5BQCtFyddhBoWJleU2Svc-o314/s320/IMG_2523.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">mini J-biebs?</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLJn23JpDJZGUf6yaQjYhbDalsUhhzINdsJK4otKMt4uRVH0gBlev-U1DFivf2M_78WVyp4-d5xJ2YN5p7BalEprhDQ-scSnuBZn_-KfVIUTlOCDyI6b3NBEP60sY-tpmGjZoUtCXWv5Y/s1600/IMG_2526.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLJn23JpDJZGUf6yaQjYhbDalsUhhzINdsJK4otKMt4uRVH0gBlev-U1DFivf2M_78WVyp4-d5xJ2YN5p7BalEprhDQ-scSnuBZn_-KfVIUTlOCDyI6b3NBEP60sY-tpmGjZoUtCXWv5Y/s320/IMG_2526.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I have a ten year old niece! #weird (wierd?)... weird.</div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj55vRMvJXHKXSOAR5nolOx-x5cYR7OTkpDgjsgljCYFVbHQftoWJG2V5og-6dbU4dgJJoqY0dGmi4Dz8dCFSq-KlgqfagrwPvNgbZfFgIkozwvqqDYfaClVHmnanLj30hFaHTnVvzzbw/s1600/IMG_2646.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj55vRMvJXHKXSOAR5nolOx-x5cYR7OTkpDgjsgljCYFVbHQftoWJG2V5og-6dbU4dgJJoqY0dGmi4Dz8dCFSq-KlgqfagrwPvNgbZfFgIkozwvqqDYfaClVHmnanLj30hFaHTnVvzzbw/s320/IMG_2646.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">A buffalo!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg18_4vzGkltPo3Yejt4tV1UB5oFI1X6SOreWhHDN2JJ1x7PgYynogkx2_MO29Cmve5GX-JWTNW8h30U2AneOaxqvTbYNiCBBpw4OTf31u1nghn1SOXP_GgBduSQwb5jetXQp1zivNLnwc/s1600/IMG_2666.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg18_4vzGkltPo3Yejt4tV1UB5oFI1X6SOreWhHDN2JJ1x7PgYynogkx2_MO29Cmve5GX-JWTNW8h30U2AneOaxqvTbYNiCBBpw4OTf31u1nghn1SOXP_GgBduSQwb5jetXQp1zivNLnwc/s320/IMG_2666.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Turkey burger = best thing I ever made</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL58Q1WDm28KQkiyCuG19kEaYxCONRSSmUXzol6pPRXwVEQDYlmdcP0CgTVtxvBFoQcWx1XaoDyn_xRXS8Fz9sIYFFgvIf3fBrd4zKPW7HrekF6VYvWsgkVZwGy0vtWecnoZqAxbqeaJ0/s1600/IMG_2671.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL58Q1WDm28KQkiyCuG19kEaYxCONRSSmUXzol6pPRXwVEQDYlmdcP0CgTVtxvBFoQcWx1XaoDyn_xRXS8Fz9sIYFFgvIf3fBrd4zKPW7HrekF6VYvWsgkVZwGy0vtWecnoZqAxbqeaJ0/s320/IMG_2671.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYomdfu7gNjEJWMK58gcaE_NuKu1vA1pExBW4I-WOk4bUWbdx1pQd8t4W8RUeS130Sy0KOhD4TjLaB8hytbQyCFx0BW5rCa3r7uHIf161V9hbp5-hQ_8nAJOyyhXrNKJIbMQ5i-kB_JJ4/s1600/IMG_2684.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYomdfu7gNjEJWMK58gcaE_NuKu1vA1pExBW4I-WOk4bUWbdx1pQd8t4W8RUeS130Sy0KOhD4TjLaB8hytbQyCFx0BW5rCa3r7uHIf161V9hbp5-hQ_8nAJOyyhXrNKJIbMQ5i-kB_JJ4/s320/IMG_2684.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Paint in my hair from two weeks before? yep.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdc9tEVfUQ2B7QnIpyOPKseRvDOXWePl2WyRg4mmpwsmjNhnQMARKsh88FWgmbGYt6EAwhmIhlFMVS4nQAa3MFFEvViGazvB9LrQzGsspLc2WCAmwathtSwgGDwkGmHKVAqtB3Qj4MN8Y/s1600/IMG_2711.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdc9tEVfUQ2B7QnIpyOPKseRvDOXWePl2WyRg4mmpwsmjNhnQMARKsh88FWgmbGYt6EAwhmIhlFMVS4nQAa3MFFEvViGazvB9LrQzGsspLc2WCAmwathtSwgGDwkGmHKVAqtB3Qj4MN8Y/s320/IMG_2711.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">view from study table</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyBXB3icGGl7-Iv4KWg_9x2_4rMuUadXwbMQomMUV5ISJCOCIAsrg_I2NFBCw3rpD2Bu2uRAAfqfzcOXpibvUYQxV3RIcZWiRx9WqwWVnt5JjvSapsXymUy3IqDzNl7h40pri3px7KgfE/s1600/IMG_2712.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyBXB3icGGl7-Iv4KWg_9x2_4rMuUadXwbMQomMUV5ISJCOCIAsrg_I2NFBCw3rpD2Bu2uRAAfqfzcOXpibvUYQxV3RIcZWiRx9WqwWVnt5JjvSapsXymUy3IqDzNl7h40pri3px7KgfE/s320/IMG_2712.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">heaven!</div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieC-Y8GPPu8rLb2hVxyTrguU64kcUYm_vbCuXAYCeKDQTuitsb6FNg79W1gFIeSeB1VsD02ap6BctpE0YTQPS6mF2eEoGDlzi-3oy9gG8_v0qiMKcULHdEabAu0nLpcEIlkZeNnLtDeLs/s1600/IMG_2714.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieC-Y8GPPu8rLb2hVxyTrguU64kcUYm_vbCuXAYCeKDQTuitsb6FNg79W1gFIeSeB1VsD02ap6BctpE0YTQPS6mF2eEoGDlzi-3oy9gG8_v0qiMKcULHdEabAu0nLpcEIlkZeNnLtDeLs/s320/IMG_2714.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">From a class novel.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgsxioK8RZ3rUyBN8Na9kyN2y7qtXUMowTUj9tkV_JPlueMdHXiEPky2eAGhvl8JI865loo0cqLjnbkeDi-IyP9NPj6jyxoOxhVZ_HvHSZi92DN94UbHL3vhoQcVZkRWdDfO0pufEwOrY/s1600/IMG_2502.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgsxioK8RZ3rUyBN8Na9kyN2y7qtXUMowTUj9tkV_JPlueMdHXiEPky2eAGhvl8JI865loo0cqLjnbkeDi-IyP9NPj6jyxoOxhVZ_HvHSZi92DN94UbHL3vhoQcVZkRWdDfO0pufEwOrY/s320/IMG_2502.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Ptarmigan Tunnel </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdX14XahZvVNWkaIeVjdOiy5kGevU1pvWtXCT2eyPMpeMnaIUn48y7snZO8FTz-R6pJe5_b0s7RaWWyEumdrtw2i1ligZ79gnU1-YfOFLZtw_c1pPaUTnTBUz_9BzfujKUb8zxXNBSb30/s1600/IMG_1996.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdX14XahZvVNWkaIeVjdOiy5kGevU1pvWtXCT2eyPMpeMnaIUn48y7snZO8FTz-R6pJe5_b0s7RaWWyEumdrtw2i1ligZ79gnU1-YfOFLZtw_c1pPaUTnTBUz_9BzfujKUb8zxXNBSb30/s320/IMG_1996.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Before I cut my hair off and cried for weeks/ months.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgONdgHIVApVbdYoTnLYCDfMb1vkKjfUBfXVubDbyLlzOLWqXk781s863nUbJ45NJcPPChpp7Ka3f9N_ReQwHbRm8MR1NzOW2imu1jhoHriult_-yF4oOp9Zt0GJB8gtSR6JdqbgWzQ8NQ/s1600/IMG_2204.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgONdgHIVApVbdYoTnLYCDfMb1vkKjfUBfXVubDbyLlzOLWqXk781s863nUbJ45NJcPPChpp7Ka3f9N_ReQwHbRm8MR1NzOW2imu1jhoHriult_-yF4oOp9Zt0GJB8gtSR6JdqbgWzQ8NQ/s320/IMG_2204.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">swift current pass lookout. SO FUN! I cried half way up because I'm a baby and thought the wind would somehow blow me off the mountain.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeGwqOPbdZ0fYPVkOrmaBPqq8CgwZtgYZBQyH415nLF6qh7cRXlVxDgAsDtltjobXeVsM1D0-XsZQqu8-RkpcAugApLMlmrIY1_dqgfLuH9cVrMaBca-nsEE9bUYf1eDQYZlqZmfOcQX0/s1600/IMG_2274.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeGwqOPbdZ0fYPVkOrmaBPqq8CgwZtgYZBQyH415nLF6qh7cRXlVxDgAsDtltjobXeVsM1D0-XsZQqu8-RkpcAugApLMlmrIY1_dqgfLuH9cVrMaBca-nsEE9bUYf1eDQYZlqZmfOcQX0/s320/IMG_2274.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqMNloq4jd0YNAscD2N0ijFPj4jZyD8pqmR8hm4GA7TCGFVfkWWctzrFr1eushOrzviSm8Sywwfda0UOjpqwV5F-YX9u0ON93gxUOoRWFdyCLKFbWt5jozzlxAwnFxn0Xl9bxNQtSntws/s1600/IMG_2278.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqMNloq4jd0YNAscD2N0ijFPj4jZyD8pqmR8hm4GA7TCGFVfkWWctzrFr1eushOrzviSm8Sywwfda0UOjpqwV5F-YX9u0ON93gxUOoRWFdyCLKFbWt5jozzlxAwnFxn0Xl9bxNQtSntws/s320/IMG_2278.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">quick little jaunt to wall lake</div><br />
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Kelsey Scotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07390811148517945006noreply@blogger.com4