“Technology… the knack of so arranging the world that we don’t have to experience it.” ~Max Frisch

social media has ruined me.

I’m convinced of it.

I feel an inexplicable urge to tell the Internet about how too many peanut butter M&M’s made me sick or how a gay guy said I shouldn’t go without eyeshadow or how heinous that lady’s jeans (with a ginorm white butterfly-looking bleached out thigh bubbles trail) were at Walmart or how *gasp* HE hit on me?!? as if it’s anyone’s business… or as if anybody cares.
although… most of you probably do care who is hitting on me. because people are gossip mongers and they love to be distantly informed about love drama without having to interact. but that’s beside the point.

this constant need for reinforcement, telling people my every random thought, checking to see who responded, who liked it, who re-tweeted, who commented in any form and gave me any kind of notification is becoming ridiculous. have I become so dependent on electronic interaction that I can’t even have a normal hour alone without obsessively grasping at some figurative digital world at any given free moment? the answer is yes, and I am disgusted with myself. in fact, this whole thought process is ironically being broadcast to the Internet right now as we speak via this blog. why? because I am PATHETIC!
that’s why.

“I had this guy leave me a voicemail at work, so I called him at home, and then he emailed me to my Blackberry, so I texted to his cell, and now you just have to go around checking all these different portals just to get rejected by seven different technologies. It’s exhausting!”- Drew Barrymore, He’s Just Not That Into You.

when the last thing you do before you go to sleep and the first thing you do when you wake up in the morning is check your messages in like 8 different ways from your evil pocket computer/phone… you start to realize that you may have a problem. it’s called an addiction.

so… how does this go?

my name is Aubrey, and I am an Internet/phone addict.

12-step me back to normalcy, please.

except the truth is… this is normal anymore. these are the signs of our times and the movement that we’re part of. this is the 21st century. this is technology at its best so far. this is our digital world all wrapped up in the palms of our hands.. and it’s wonderful. and I stay in touch with all sorts of people I would have lost years ago… (or I stalk them without actually talking, but… same difference?) and there are benefits. it’s a blessing.

but my question is…
have I lost myself in too much noise?
can I remove my fingers from the death grip they have on my phone and my laptop and give myself a little time to just be with myself?

these are rhetorical questions..
but important ones, nevertheless.

a Saint named George

well kids. I’ve spent a lot of time in St. George that past few weeks. and since I’m feeling show-and-telly.. I’ma post about it.

firstly, I went on a road trip with all guys.. yes. this was an adventure. nothin like a road trip with the guys to make you realize how much they see you as one of them. I went with some of my buddies from the mission.
here we have Hofe, Hall, and Cheney. woot!
what sexy beasts.
of course we took my car down.
and we had to drive clear in the crap out of the way into central Utah to pick up Hofer from Snow College in Ephraim (who goes there? it’s in the capital of nowhere) on the way down.. so we didn’t get there till the wee hours of the morning between Friday and Saturday. the reason for our journey was to visit this guy right here:
Gab Tremblay. on the right. not to be confused with Hofe, even though they are in a bromance with each other. I wish I could explain how funny these two are together. but I just can’t.
the weekend was jam-packed with shennanigans and fun. we went to bed at an indecent hour on Friday, as was expected.. slept in a bit on Saturday. Tremblay’s mom makes killer food; breakfast was amazing. then we promptly went skim boarding… after we went to Target to get me a swimsuit because I’m the genius who goes to St. George and forgets one.
let me just say that I can’t really skim board. I have to disclaim that. but I tried and I kind of did it. so we got crazy up in the red dirt that is Southern Utah, then we went to Tremblay’s pool.. I stayed in the hot tub and loved it. then we played ultimate frisbee for… ever. I love that game but I was way over it by the time that escapade finally ended.  then we hit up the Orange Peel, whose bubble tea has now become a St. George staple for me. yuss.
then Hofe, Chino, and I went back to clean up. Tremblay went to play hockey because he’s got some strange secret energy source hidden inside of him. we went to dinner at the Pasta Factory (mmm.)
and then we met up with Tremblay and friends again.
bonfire in the giant red rocks? don’t mind if I do.
it burned with the heat of a thousand suns.
errbody retreated up the rocks and watched mesmerized like people tend to do when they see fire..
except the crazies who continually fed the monster with pallets.. like Kevin, here:
so this is what St. George kids do for fun.
and then we went back to the ginormous gorgeous house of a girl named Lindsey and watched “Taken” in her pimped theater. but not before we saw her hilarious giant toilet.
apparently her dad’s sense of humor is awesome.
Sunday came and we attended church and heard Tremblay give his homecoming talk. then we had delicious food at his Dad’s house and loved listen to all the French in that French Canadian house.
and then we hit the road again. they were.. less than helpful:

jerks.

and then we got home. and it was awesome.

flash forward to two weeks later…

here I am on my way to St. George… AGAIN!
with Sonya, who is looking particularly smokin’ in this picture.
and unfortunately… I forgot my camera AND my wall phone charger. I have almost no pictures of the trip. basically, it consisted of pool time (which I have clearly edited for your virgin eyes to avoid scarring and for my protection)
awesome people
so-o-o-o much laughing
dance parties
wicked awes knock knock jokes (i.e. me: knock knock! you: who’s there? me: eat mop! you: eat mop who? <– say that out loud. now. and laugh.)
food (and like 26 hundred people wanting different things and causing quite a ruckus)
shopping at TJ Max
Orange Peel bubble tea
basketball/volleyball/football
hiking up Snow Canyon to tell ghost stories on a giant rock
singing the opening song to the Lion King at the top of our lungs in the canyon in African. because we know African.
the most hilarious.. most RIDICULOUS sacrament meeting I have attended in a long long time
(I’m immature.)
spooning in a giant bed with Michelle and Angie for two consecutive nights
church socks with gym shorts:
and did I mention pool time?

good times, guys.
good times.

my 100th

this is my 100th post. (and my life has been so overwhelming lately that I’ve not done it for weeks) so I guess it’s only appropriate that I feel like I’m going to bust open from too many thoughts and feelings fighting each other.. maybe there will be confetti when that moment hits, eh?

I don’t know why I’m awake,
but I know I feel a bit lost.
there are formulas and guidelines and commandments for story book endings that I’ve been given since birth
by do-gooders on all sides…
but they are faulty in failing to take into account
emotion and compatibility
and attraction
and chemistry.
how am I to factor that in
(to a formula of perfection)
when it will only mess up the ending
by eternal degrees?

where do I put my weakness in this equation,
or the irresistible mutual pull that’s proving so hard to resist?
this is up to me,
with my maturity faltering,
to live up to the knowledge bar
and slap on perspective so easily lost.
there are no beer goggles to remove here,
only feelings to bury.
to wish change like this
is the most futile wish
with the most desperate hope
and the most miserable consequences.

so I blink it away
and give life my hard smile.

happy 100!!
…to me!