a happy picture + some words about being happy.

a happy picture of us happily dancing this summer.

...very much ripped off from kenna's wedding photographer...

it's fine. we're fine. 

i'm so happy to be happy. earlier this year, things were heavy + we had to work hard.

like. so hard.

i was very much depressed + completely checked out. it was pretty awful. 

but we came out on top! (exclamation point)(...i made it sound easy but refer back to hard work)

 and i now have a testimony of working hard +

seeking help when you need it + of being honest and owning your feelings. 

 also of comfortable couches in counseling offices + of having no shame -- when you need help, 

go get it! it's the most important thing in the world.

(bonus! you can feel like a celebrity + drop phrases like, 

"well, my therapist said..." + really freak people out)

also of good friends + a stupidly supportive family. 

this is all long way to say : i don't feel bad about ripping off this happy picture

because i deserve it, dammit. i'll be gushy if i want to be. 

sometimes // YOGA

- - - - - -

sometimes i feel like yoga class is just one hour long 

struggle to hold in a toot. 

(while doing fart-inducing poses)

namaste.

happy july second // *almost* THREE YEAR OLDS

so, totally not a selfie.

- - - - - - -

also can you believe jeff + i are approaching three years? 

i like three-year-old us.

sure, we are dinged-up + chubbier + have been through THE ROUGH PATCH (vol. 1 of 3,203,447, or so i've heard) but hey! three-year-old us has more fun + more depth + less 'what are you thinking about?'-ing. because i freaking hate that question. hahahah. 

round of applause for shotgun weddings everywhere! 

...you are welcome for the most romantic sentiments about marriage + love + other some such things.

you didn't expect much from me, right? 

thoughts on an evening walk //

i'm an overly self-critical underachiever. occasionally i will have the paralyzing thought :

WHAT IF I HAD ALWAYS TRIED HARD?
where would i be?
what if i had like, actually practiced my instrument?!
or didn't google-translate my way through spanish?!
or brushed my hair every once in a while?!?

i think i have watched too many episodes of dance moms + have convinced myself that i would have tried hard from the time i was little (like, super hard)(or had an abby lee miller-like character in my life violently berating me), then i would be a star at something. violin? ballet? soccer? reading? I DON'T KNOW NOR WILL I EVER. HOW SAD.

...but then i just flip on britney's greatest hits, keep walking + think, "meh."


BUT SERIOUSLY WHAT IF?
the end.

WHAT IF! : A love story. Also bumper stickers.

Today I was driving home from the library (okay, the mall) + 

thought of this hypothetical love riddle. 

Indulge me. 

WHAT IF!
What if you met someone + were starting to get mildly serious.
You loved most everything you knew about them + felt like this. was. it.
You live in...the city. Or love walking? And public transportation?

The point is : you rarely see his car.

You think nothing of it. You aren't judgemental.
He could be driving a brick for all you care.

THEN!
One day he suggests a drive into the country. A break from the busy life.
Isn't he dreamy?
He picks you up in his car + you laugh to yourself because you didn't think
there was such thing as a perfect car, but it's the perfect car.
Modest, clean, practical. Plus XL cup holders. CHECK, CHECK, CHECK.

You get to the picnic spot + start settling in then realize you forgot your jacket.
You insist on getting it yourself (he's such a gentlemen!) and you zip back to the car...
and...

DUN DUN DUN!

BUMPER STICKERS.
Like, the worst kinds ever.
Saying the worst things. Ever.
Covering the entire backside of the car.
HOW HAD YOU MISSED THIS?!

Lift your truck. Fat chicks can't jump. 
I don't suffer from insanity. I enjoy every minute of it.
Democrats pave the road to hell. 
Caution. I brake for hookers.
...and so on.
(just so you know, two of those were actually on actual cars in my high school's parking lot.
Cars, plural.)

And you're like...
Wait. I think I actually hate this guy.
WHAT! IS! LIFE!
Left is right, right is left, up is down, down is up.

And you look back at him, smiling coyly on the picnic blanket.
So suave, so perfect.

WHAT A LOVE RIDDLE, right?
Or not really.
Deal-breaker.

I also thought like, what if your husband started putting them on his car? Does he do it
one-by-one or all at once? Do you just wake up one day + discover that you're married to
the offensive bumper sticker guy. WHAT WOULD YOU DO?!

And those are my thoughts on a Monday.

a letter to myself in the 7th grade pt. I || DRY SHAMPOO + SEVENTEEN MAGAZINE

Dear 7th Grade Brooke,

You will go through a time where you think dry shampoo equates to the end of showering forever. This is not true. Though Seventeen Magazine boasts that washing your hair everyday will leave your hair dull and lifeless, you have a unique type of hair texture that greases up like a Kentucky Fried Chicken at the very thought of skipping a wash. Puberty. Hormones. Buzz words. To put it in mathematical terms : the more showers you skip, the more dull and lifeless your social life will be. Which is like, super important in 7th grade. And yes, those were not mathematical terms. Clearly, Brooke of the Future hasn't improved at math or metaphors. Also your metabolism slows substantially. You are welcome. The future is bright.
On that note, stop reading Seventeen Magazine. Most of their boy advice is junk and everything else you can learn in the Bible for Pre-Teens a.k.a. The Care and Keeping of You by American Girl. Also, yes, you will eventually recover from the scarring images of the cartoon girl putting in a tampon.
Lastly and most importantly, you are doing great and you are going to be fine. 
Keep on keeping on, soul sister.
Lovingly,
Brooke of the Future.

p.s. Wear those cotton trainer bras as long as possible. They totally rule + real bras aren't that comfy.

p.p.s. Yes, you are wearing the same shirt as Emma Roberts in Unfabulous and yes, that is something to brag about.

hilary duff + twenty years of life... or where i try to make something of my last year. go with it.

- - - - - -

i'm nearly twenty one, you know? this upcoming monday! get your party pants on + your streamers ready + don't give me too much attention because i thrive on that stuff + before you know it i'll be twirling around singing a nearly unrecognizable version of santa baby + staring at you, begging for your approval + reminding you that you created this monster, now give me a hearty courtesy laugh!

i'm just joking, sort of?

my morgan friend + i were talking about life today. real deep, no? well, we were talking about life in between long, heated manifestos about how hilary duff truly followed the straight + narrow and about our love for deep, gothic flowers. whatever those are. any hoots, were were talking about how fast life can move! it feels like a year is such a long time + then, poof! you are left scratching your head and thinking, was dying my hair darker really the most noteworthy thing i did this year? 
answer : sort of.

my twentieth year was one where i just left things gel. i'm a wife +, while there are some definite logistics + parameters, it means whatever i want it to mean, you know? like this whole marriage thing has me saying 'who gun stop me now?' fifty five times more than a normal adult woman should. i'm an awful full-time employee...and student and that is okay, i can make ends meet many other ways. i love to cook but would much rather get eye rolls for brining in store-bought cookies than have to whip it up myself. i need my girl time and i need my alone time. weekly.  and that's so okay. i'm sort of more introverted than i expected? i'm not always happy + funny. oh, + i'm not an ombre type of girl. i just ain't.
i learned to not care so much what people think. i never thought i did, but also i kind of do? i feel like each year i'm giving less damns about the approval of other people which is awesome yet really scary for my future? i predict a lot of muumuus + not a lot of bras. mmmm.

i like this twenty-year-old brooke, despite the thousand things she started + quit + started again + quit for good this year. ha! but hi! twenty-one! new license + a new start! (group poll : i don't have to add those 'x' amount of pounds i gained since my last license, right? right.) also i'm talking in third person? this should stop?

the point of this all is...welp, back to hilary duff? she's my safe place.

my jumbled thoughts on star trek : into the darkness.

now that i'm looking at the picture to the right below, i realize it looks like i've gained three hundred pounds. i promise you, i haven't. at least i don't think so? or maybe i have and it's been such a slooooow (and delicious...bless you, chocolate covered almonds) process that i haven't really noticed at all. this sort of thing would definitely happen to me. sometimes when i'm driving i'll be listening to the radio for a good thirty minutes before realizing, "what the heck! this is in spanish! i haven't understood one. single. word!" 

on tuesday night we saw star trek : into the darkness. i didn't know much about the film besides the fact that the subtitle kind of sounded like it could be the title to a really dirty movie starring corbin bleu and vanessa hudgens. what? you haven't thought about that? (kidding! kidding! three more times, kidding!) and, of course, the sign for 'live long and prosper.'

anyways, we sat down and i immediately whipped out my phone to check all my social mediums that keep me connected...to mommy bloggers i don't actually know in real life. important stuff! a big man behind me...sitting a l o n e, mind you...told me to turn off my phone and could i please stop talking?

dude. it's the previews!

cue dramatic eye roll. cue audible sigh of disgust. cue slamming my phone into my bag and shoving it under my seat. man, oh man. i was in for it.

but! the movie started! and i paid attention! so here's my review:

review of star trek: into the darkness from an impartial third party who was just along for the ride (and tub of popcorn!) : 

this movie made a trekkie out of me. actually, no it didn't. not even close. but i did go home and take a self-indulgent picture in the mirror for good measure. you know. like one does.

onwards! it was fairly funny and i had a few moments where i was gasping because i was just. so. into . it. buuuuuuuuuut for the most part every scene was three minutes too long. (except for the scene where there were those sexy cat-like women -- what were those things?) especially the fighting scenes. holy goodness, did they drag those on.

with every scene being three minutes too long, it made the movie last forty five minutes longer than necessary. no seriously, it did. like, why is everyone coming back to life?! just die! go home, khan. are you good or are you bad or are you tuck everlasting? and why don't we have more scenes with that man-candy of a pilot?! they really should have explored their options with into the darkness, you know?

but the popcorn was especially buttery and my diet coke had the perfect fizz : flavor ratio so...five stars!

it's may twenty fourth.

it's may twenty fourth which means a lot of things but most importantly, it means that there's a might storm brewin' in mah nether regions. 

...annnnnd all men stop reading now. or don't. i dare you! actually, just keep reading. i don't mention my ovaries again. except right then. ovaries! 

i could feel it coming, i always do. suddenly i am on the verge of tears about everything : the kindess of the person in front of my towards the cashier at walmart, the sweet sounds of eric church coupled with driving with the windows down, and holy #*%#, i'm out of garlic hummus. i love garlic hummus. 

also i pounded a couple handfuls of chocolate covered almonds. no really, pounded. it wasn't dainty; i took a mouth-to-the-fist type of approach and came up gasping for air. i also ate a *90 calorie* ice cream sandwich for breakfast that was in need of 180 more calories (tasted like cardboard), but that's for another time.

...the point of this all is that there is really no point. this week was a breeze, the weather was perfect, and i made a goal this week to not wear my hair in a top-knot but, alas, in the eleventh hour, the top-knot prevails! but don't you think that a goal to not wear a top-knot is actually all sorts of silly? like, who is the top-knot harming (besides my hairline...my poor, poor hairline...)? 

the end. 

spring cleaning of my soul.

(i'm going to use the word blog like, fifteen times in the next paragraph. so buckle up.)

yesterday around three in the p.m. i was feeling full. full of...thoughts, trail mix, and sonic water (i'm kicking my diet coke habit and am using jedi mind tricks where i still go to sonic...but get water! i know ludacris, backstroke, backstroke, stroke of a genius!). i wanted to get my brain juice out somewhere and turned to my super-top secret blog (that has two passwords!) to let it a l l out.

...and then i accidentally posted it to my old blog? (p.s. it's the junior high of my blogging career -- i truly peaked over there! i used to be so funny!)

oops. i got a few text messages from my mother and friends who were wondering if that was on purpose? or was that for my top-secret blog? is brooke actually experiencing an emotion apart from happy, hangry, slightly annoyed, or holycrapihavetopee!

it was sort of embarrassing. mostly because i ended the blog post with 'loves.' sweet mother of pete, why did i end it with 'loves'...?!

my mother, on the other hand, found it cool. she thought i did it on purpose and was like rock on, girl! way to show emotion! so raw! so cool! ...or some variation of that. so what the heck! why don't i share? though i don't plan on ending any sentiment ever again with 'loves.'

...of course this begins with a selfie. only fitting. 
it's nearly spring time which means i start to get this urge to clean. it's like some weird gravitational pull on my mind that makes me notice the clutter on the coffee table and the dust on the ceiling fan and holy shoot, do i really need all these dish towels?

jeff has been bugging me to clean out my closet. oh, my closet. if you've been to our apartment, you have probably heard about or seen my closet. when jeff and i were searching for apartments, we thought we found gold with our apartment. a walk-in closet! whiy we could store everything in there! 

needless to say, the closet is stuffed positively full with all of my junk and jeff's clothes reside in a dresser by the bed. oops.

that closet is positively and absoultely ignored. jeff refuses to go into it in fear that everything will collapse on him and he will become some version of flat stanley. i tend to just throw my clothes in it and usually grab whatever is closest. it's a mess.

i feel the same way about some things in my life (a metaphor!). i feel like i have digressed spiritually and i feel it in my bones! this winter i was served with a big ol' dose of busy. i feel like i started putted things and stuff and silly obligations in front of what matters most. my scripture study slowly turned into a quick browse through on my phone which slowly turned into days and weeks without reading. i know that my normally strong and unwavering testimony is suffering from it, too.  last week we gave a lesson in sunday school and i was feeling so crummy about things i gave no solid input -- i was kind of like the kelly ripa of the regis and kelly show (...good looking and funny, of course!).

so now it's time to clean. clean out my closet, clean up my soul + spirit, and clean up all this anxiety i am feeling over the marathon (holy, 26.2 miles in two months! will anyone judge me if i switch to a half? anyone?).

a very muttered and less-enthusiastic, loves.

...and that, my friends, was some variation my top secret blog post. showing and sharing actual emotion was relatively painless...relatively. 

time to foil my reputation: i don't do small talk.

the hard truth is, i have always been too lame to have rumors started about me. 

it's true! and it kind of stinks? it's like in junior high when you secretly hoped that your house would get teepeed because it meant people were thinking about you. was that just me? excuse me while i turn off my avril lavigne cd and wipe away my tears...

now, back to the point: i was. i was lame. my boobs weren't nearly perky or big enough to look fake, i was too lazy to entangle myself in girl-drama, and my parents never appeared to be apart of the mafia or anything of the like. it wasn't that i was well-liked, it's just that i was boring. 

but there is one common misconception that seems to follow me everywhere (see, the picture is me trying to run from these fallacies! it's metaphorical and stuff!). it is, that drum roll please, brooke has great social skills. 

(now i promise this isn't one of those times where i am pretending to put myself down but am really outright bragging. trust me, i am shameless enough to do it less subtly...like this! everyone loves my eyebrows...i wonder why? they stink. but really they rock.)

for years, i have always been placed in school-groups where i am so obviously the person that's supposed to bond everyone together to sing kumbaya. i usually get placed in odd seating arrangements and am summoned to talk to weird cousins at family reunions (other people's family reunions, mind you!). i'm the buffer.

but i stink at it. sure, i can talk to anyone...but i really can't talk about any thing.

for example: 

at the bridal store i work at, there is a lot of time for chatting. whether you are helping a bride into a gown in the dressing room or are sitting with the bride's family as they are delibirating, there is silence and it needs to be filled.

while most people would bring up the weather or...chrismas decorations?, i always find myself asking does it hurt your hoo-ha's to breastfeed? and how'd it feel to have that big thing come out of the birth canal? and ...you can be honest, is she your favorite child or no? 

just the other day i found myself telling a bride's mom that...

i want to be pregnant for fifteen straight years of my life! i want to have so many children that i don't even know half of their names. i just want them running around biting at my ankles. my poor lady parts.

she nodded and, remarkably, daughter didn't buy the dress.

i feel like i am an over-sharer, too. it just makes me feel comfortable. i almost feel like the person talking to me can just sense that peeing on airplanes thrills me or that i really don't mind drip-drying. why not just let it out? plus, you have to fill that natural pause in the conversation with something...right?

...now that i have rambled, can we talk about your biggest insecurity? or dark stories from your childhood? who's your least favorite sibling? 

conferencing.

some mornings i wake up crusty. my face, eyes, hair, even my SOUL feels crusty! exclamation point! i always wonder why this is? this happens often (...mondays..), and i have mastered the remedy: diet coke, shower and face SCRUB, and a large helping of sriacha (you guys, i am on such a kick! my sinuses are like 'hey! we are awake!'). 

...i'm lost in translation. what was my point again? this was all supposed to be some drawn-out metaphor? 

ah, yes. this weekend my soul was 'de-crusted' and awakened. conference was exactly what i needed. i was feeling a little 'crusty' lately, you know what i mean?

i am still suffering from a case of the tingles (vow: i will never use that expression again...) over the new mission age requirements; boys can serve at eighteen and girls can serve at NINETEEN. this is huge. i have told both my sisters that they better be serving missions and am so giddy for my lady friends. 

i was talking to my avery-friend about conference and she remarked how she loved the urgency they conveyed -- learn to live now, learn to serve now, heed to promptings now, turn to the lord now. how did you not want to jump out of your seats and figure out who the heck you were supposed to be visiting teaching for the past two months anyways? (...i'm meeting with her tonight! DE-CRUSTED!)

if you missed a session or are just plain curious, watch/read/listen here. it will awaken your soul more than sriacha and diet coke, i promise.

"life is not meant to only be appreciated in retrospect." -- dieter f. uchtdorf (silver fox extraordinaire)(did you guys just die picturing him and his wife riding their bikes? too cute for words.)

p.s. it was so special to have my nikki-friend with me. nikki converted to the church just last april (april, right?) and has had unwaivering dedication to the church and the lord. she's now at byu-idaho. and will kick your butt in golf. and is single? wait, what?

 

things of high importance.

last night after an exhausting and serious debate, it was decided: the right side of my face is superior to the left (i shouldn't have been surprised -- the left side has been defiled by a scar from a biking accident. somehow(?) half of my left eyebrow disappeared and has to be penciled in ad nauseum. sometimes, if you're lucky, the fading serves as a  sundial of sorts; during the morning it's thick and dark and oh-so-gorgeous and as the day goes one, the eyebrow vanishes! magic?)

...it was also decided that sean lowe as the new bachelor is good for the eyes but maybe not for the soul? those opened-mouthed kissed week after week...oh, heavens! and the terrible choices in shirt colors (...is he perpetually sunburned?!)...

...additionally, it was decided that peach-stops on the way back from work can change lives (LIVES, people!), crushes on tina fey/liz lemon are okay so long as i can justifiably have a crush on kevin james (pre-weight loss, of course!), tuna-loaf should never, under any circumstances, be made again EVER, and mum's the word on repeat outfits (nobody even SAW me on tuesday, after all?). 

on things metaphorical.

yesterday after church i hurriedly made my way to the cafeteria (after gasping and inwardly cursing over  a $150 parking ticket with lily…gasp! curse!) and in a few quick moments with hungry-brain, had piled plate after plate of various foods (large salad, omelette, potatoes, steamed carrots, shredded steak, cookie, grapes…) and inhaled all of it. food-guilt and indigestion set in and i decided it was time for a sunday afternoon walk.

as i was walking, i took in the utah scenery–it really is a pretty place, you know? the snow topped mountains and tall, green trees; the rows and rows of cute little houses and culdesacs that scream family-friendly; the snow…and the snow…and the slushy make-you-fall-on-your-face-outside-the-matt-costa-concert snow.

joyous day.

i had my headphones in and was bumping. the playlist seemed to match my surroundings; calm, tranquil, soft, peaceful (…and the synonyms for ‘calm’ stop now…).

the glorious provo temple was just up the hill and as i made my way towards it, i prepared myself for a real deep and spiritual experience. i braced myself for some personal revelation about…anything? something? what my major should be? if i should trim my hair or not? is scout a suitable name for my hypothetical child? the closer i got to the temple, the more excited i was! i was going to have a real and raw moment here, guys!

then the song changed and temptation filled my ears. justin moore’s song that reminds me of my father and various high school friends (…this song; i love it, but do not condone it!)…oy! i couldn’t resist! but i couldn’t have a real, raw moment listening to tunes like THAT (with cuss words in the chorus! gasp!). thus, i had a decision to make: a. real, raw moment or b. justin moore’s scandily song.

…needless to say, i took a hard right and strolled down a random street with obscenities streaming into my brainium (do you like what i did there?). temptation at it’s finest! and i gave in! (…why am i telling this story again? is it to feel more accountable? hold me accountable, justin moore!)

and then i got hit by a bus! just flatted out! karma came in the form of a big, yellow, angry vehicle and laid me out in the middle of the road with the song still playing in the background.

holy smokes!

i called my mom and told her about the situation. we figured there was a metaphor in there, or a simile? or something symbolic? that life is like an ipod, and we get to choose what we listen to and what fills our brains and…oh, curses! we had a great metaphor in there but i don’t quite remember it…maybe it was that life is like a road and sometimes there are obstacles in life and temptations (like cuss wordy songs or caffeinated drinks or fast food places that are open on sundays?) and you have to make a decision! at the crossroads! like i did! hard right! (except it was wrong…anti-metaphor!) bus to the body!

…and now you know.

p.s. i went in for a fancy job interview on thursday and we spent 75% of the interview talking about once upon a time and how much i hated puberty. wait, what? ha.

p.p.s. also, just kidding(!!!) about the big yellow bus part. it was actually a prius. just kidding again! i didn’t get hit by anything. but when i am retelling this story and using it as a learning point in some deep, spiritual talk i am giving, i am going to say i got hit. for the sake of bringing the metaphor (or simile?) full-circle. and you aren’t going to say anything about it!

newfound narcissism.

Last Saturday, I ventured on over to the local Sprint store with my mother and got myself an HTC Evo 4G.

Why you ask?

Well, GizModo.com raves it’s a ‘war machine’; a beautifully architected slab of a phone that is the fastest, smartest, and strongest of its time.

UberGizmo.com notes that it’s the first 4G cell phone in the U.S. and praises its powerful processor.

And that one commercial claims that it can ‘go toe-to-toe with the iPhone, and beat it.’

Now, you ask, have I enjoyed all these features and utilized them to their fullest? The lightning fast internet? The 4 gigabytes microSD card? The 512MB RAM(what does that even mean…)?

And, if I was being honest(highly unlikely), I would answer no.

But I have discovered my newly found narcissism.

Just look:

(The last one serves as my personal favorite. It as if I am beginning to become ashamed of my outright narcissistic ways so, instead, resorted to the far-less obvious ‘candid’ photo of myself. It looks almost natural, right?)

Right after we left the Sprint store, I began to browse the features of the phone. As if obligated, I ‘ooh-d’ and ‘awww-d’ over the ‘powerful processor’ and large assortment of applications(an air horn app., really?) for the rest of the ride home.

And then I came across my doom: the mirror front camera.

If you don’t know what that is, it’s a handy little feature that enables you to look at the adorable pouty face you are making(my personal favorite next to the tongue out of the side of the mouth or the MySpace face) while you are taking a picture of yourself.

Brilliant, right?

(Also, if you have a sharp eye for detail, notice that 2 out of the 3 pictures above have the same tiled bathroom. Yes, those were taken in my high school’s restroom while I was sitting on the throne. Yes, I forgot to turn off the shutter sound while taking my first self-portrait. And yes, there were people in the bathroom who giggled as I pulled my feet up on to the toilet, hoping they didn’t recognize my unmistakable shoes.)

Oh! I like one more feature about the Evo!

It has this game called WordFeud which is comparable to Scrabble or ‘Words with Friends’ for all you iPhone folk. I play online against a man named ‘whitehulk’(is my mind the only one that is wandering…).

We’re buds.