Settling Into Things

I 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...

Anyways.

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.

"If you could eat anything for the rest of your life what would it be?" Uhh, anything that's bad for me.

"What was your favourite part about our wedding day?" Mmmm, the wedding part?

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 not close the bathroom door…

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 a lot 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.

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.

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.

I don't know why I feel like I always need to upload a picture? It's a problem, really.

I'm Outré

I'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!

So tonight I sat down, and 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.

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, because for some reason that's always necessary (?!), instead I acted like a normal person. I simply wrote about my day.

Dear Diary,

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.

Have a great night.

Sincerely,
G-Ma Kelsey


Also, here is a picture of Carey Mulligan in case this is the future and no one understands my popular culture references.

That Time I Became Too Cool for Eight Dollar Jeans

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. 

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 highly 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... 

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.

On Saturday I woke up and decided I needed 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.

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.  

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...) 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. 

So why am I like this? I have two theories:

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.

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.

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.

Let me just say, I'm grateful Scott has this whole "minimal living" thing figured out. 

Anyways, here's a cute picture of Scott, because what's a blog post without a picture?