2004 PT Cruiser

(If this makes me seem judgmental...sorry...)

I whipped around the corner of the parking lot, anxious to park and venture into that great and spacious building that we call Wal Mart. Why anyone would shop elsewhere I just do NOT understand, this mart of Wal has everything that is good in life.
I finally find a parking space and pull in-eh, that's straight enough- slamming my 2004 PT Cruiser into park. My baby. My pride and joy. It practically glows from absolute perfection- turquoise, flames painted on the sides, and a convertible hood. I have my best mix CD in- One Direction and Justin Beibers best. Who says women over 40 can't have pleasure in these young specimens?
I grab my pink and green paisley purse from the passenger seat, pausing momentarily to stuff the receipts and tissues back in that always seem to want to explore the world whenever I move my bag. I'm wearing my favorite fuzzy, tweety bird ankle length pajama bottoms and my well worn crocs. As an afterthought, I grab my Mickey Mouse hoodie and throw it on. People make funny faces when I come without a bra on.
As I'm walking in, I decide to put my hair up. It's just gotten long enough to twist into a bun, so I gather up all my brown hair- raking my fingers through a few matted patches- and throw it all up there. In the effort to put it up, a crumpled tissue falls out of my bag. Darned thing, always trying to escape! But why wouldn't it. We are at the happiest place on earth.



This is a true story Marcy. Sorry if its too mean. She's the most interesting person I've come across as of late.

Sorry I had to post this

Because sometimes my own face really amuses me.

maybe it will do the same for you.

~Marcy Elaine

Lipstick

I stormed out in a rage, fury building up inside of me and coming out in spurts, executed in disbelieving gasps and clenched fists and hard strides as I walked away from the bar.
I had gone at the last minute with a girlfriend. Daniel had called at about six, informing me that he had to spend yet another late night at the office, and that I shouldn't wait up. I was just about to make some tea and pull out my Friends DVDs when Sofia called, asking if I wanted to meet her and some of her work friends at a bar called Mo's in the city. While curling up on the couch with. Mug of hibiscus lychee and 90's sitcoms is a novelty that most people relish in when given the opportunity, since Dan had started working so many late nights, it had become a regular occurrence. And I was bored.
So, I said yes. I put on some skinnies and my favorite top, even a little lipstick. I hadn't gotten dolled up for an evening out in a long time. It felt nice to wear something other than yoga pants and High School track hoodies in the evening. Even If its not lingerie.
But I wasn't ready to embrace that yet.
I thought about texting Dan to tell him that I was going out, figured it might be a good idea to report it to him. But I decided not to; he's probably pretty busy with his late night, and besides that, I'll be getting him before he does. I settled for leaving a note on the kitchen counter, just in case he got off earlier than usual.
So I met Sofia and three of her squirrelly co workers, all drinking little cocktails with fruit floating at the top. I could already tell that the night would be less than desirable if I was going to be stuck with these pansies who couldn't even handle a beer. I got a bud light and let the pounding bass and the electric lights and the essence of the atmosphere sink in as I half listened to their conversation. They were discussing a "OMG HOTTE" new co worker. I was wallowing in my beer, feeling left out, and regretting coming.
Right as I was about to pull out a textbook excuse (I work the morning shift tomorrow, my stomach kills, wanna see my baby tonight- all lies, but take you're pick, they all work) Sofia strikes up some small talk with me. How's your new apartment? How's work? How's Daniel? So is I smiles and answered all her questions, a more natural conversation started, another beer was ordered, and any thought of excusing myself from a night out was forgotten. I was having a good time.
After awhile, I excused myself to go use the Ladies Room. As I was making my way to the back of the bar, I notice a jacket that looks just like Dan's draped over the back of a chair; fitted black leather. I had just gotten it for him for his birthday last month. Weird- I didn't think many guys liked fitted jackets. But at that table was a blonde woman applying red lipstick through the reflection of a small compact, the effects of her positioning practically forcing her breasts out of her low cut black dress. Those jackets must be more popular than I thought, because it couldn't possibly be Dan's. I pulled at the neckline of my top as I walked into the Ladies Room.
I was just putting my own tube "dusty rose" lipstick back into my purse as I walked back into the atmosphere, and the first thing I saw was those red lips, moving hypnotically as she spoke to the man sitting before her. She looked up at him through her dark lashes. This earned her a kiss. A couple of kisses. Her partner then turned around to retrieve his fabulous jacket.
The one that I just got him, for his birthday.
He had a little smudge of red on the corner of his mouth. Oh, a bit behind his ear, too.
Hot.
Way to go, Dan. Daniel.
I was enraged. So much, in fact, that I didn't even know what to do. That hardly ever happens to me. Naturally, my first instinct was to be violent. But that would mean a fight, and I was not about to get into a bar fight. Because that's pathetic, and pathetic is something that I am not. No, instead, I just left.
I left in a fit of disbelieving gasps and clenched fists and long strides, gripping the railway as i walked down the stairs to the parking lo, willing myself to just be the bigger person, make it home, get my stuff, and leave. Maybe include the name of the bar I went to in my note to him on the kitchen counter that he just might get the hint as to why I was gone, all the while swearing under my breath because WHERE THE HELL ARE MY KEYS?
Just as I fish them out of the bottom of my purse, I catch another bit of red out of corner of my... Eye. Ha. It's his car.
So I scratched my name into the passenger side door. My full name. Eleanore Maria Anderson, because that's what he liked to call me when he was feeling romantic.
Passenger side door, you ask? That way she'll see it, and ask about it. And if we're lucky, he will be so stumped that he will end up telling the truth. That should be refreshing for him.


Punishment words: report, fight, railway

Don't Doll Me (Marcy Elaine)

I stormed out in a rage, as soon as I was sure I was out of everyone's view. He followed me, sort of jogging after me, call out to me, using different pet names. It was gathering the attention of others walking the road under the streetlights. But I didn’t really care. A river of utter irritation and betrayal and frustration and sadness was pushing me forward.
“Doll--! Dollface!”
“Don’t you dollface me right now.”
“Doll, I--”
“Don’t Doll me either,” I shoot back, still walking away.
“What the hell am I suppose to call you then?”
I whip lashed back at him with a absurd face, suddenly seething.
“Oh, I don’t know, maybe my name.” He stood there, not able to think of a response. That was definitely a dumb move on his part. “Or have you forgotten it? Is doll just a nickname for all the girl’s you forget.”
“Do--”
“I said don’t!” I finally screamed at him. The sound even shocked me. It was actually the shock that made tears choke my voice. He just stood there flabbergasted for a moment.
“You know I wasn’t actually kissing her, she came on to me!”
“Yeah, and you were too jacked to even see it coming. She had been coming onto you the whole night! You were hardly even close to the party! You had been away for longer than you should have. Did you even care where I was?” I nearly squeaked. He had stopped functioning. He didn’t know what to do.
I reached into her purse and pulled out a sharpie. I walked up to him and grabbed his hand and started writing on it. I finished and capped the pen. He looked at it, it only said one word.
My name.
“So you don’t forget next time,” I said, lips trembling before she turned away and continued walking.

(River)

The Troll of the Bridge (Marcy Elaine)

Once upon a time, like three years ago, me and my bestie took a trip to the Magical World of Disney. I remember when we were in eighth grade we talked about going for our senior trip, and at the time it was more of a, I wish that will happen, more than a, we are doing this, period, sort of thing. But low and behold... we did it.
This particular gem was in the Tarzan treehouse. Now I don’t quite remember the circumstances but I recall both of agreeing that we had to go in the treehouse. WE HAD TO. I think it was both agreed that whenever we went with others the treehouse was always sort of bypassed. And that was just not happening this time.
If my memory serves me correct, this was right after we went on Indiana Jones, and Splash Mountain. Splash Mountain was close to vacant seeing as how it was cloudy outside, which of course is a green light for shenanigans. We had our fun little misadventures on that ride. Ashlynne got wet, I got SOAKED. Thus the weird hair. I was still half wet in this picture. But I didn’t even care, I was having the time of my life.
I wish I could recall the events that created this picture, but not much. I do remember us both agreeing we wanted a picture somewhere on the treehouse because it was always so rushed and people walking by that we never got a chance before. So I became the troll of the bridge. I think that occupation suits me quite well actually. Disney should hire me.

And oh my gosh I remember those gray shoes!

Sakana's Sushi Bar

So this picture is of me and that guy, Steve, that guy that I'm totally smitten with. Funny enough, this picture was taken by you, Marcy :) it was on our first double date together, the first time you met Steve, and I was anxious for your approval.
Because here's the thing. Every girl wants their best friend to approve of their man. And this had yet to happen with any that I had chosen up to that point. It was either that they were too immature, too demeaning, you name it. I just did NOT seem to have much luck picking out a good guy. Maybe it would have been different, had we lived closer.
Maybe I wouldn't have fallen for a 19 year old almost missionary when I was 15, and then wasted nearly two years of my life worrying over whether we would end up together. It turned out that he was a selfish, immature individual who just couldn't handle this much hotness.
Maybe, if we lived closer, I wouldn't have gotten a boyfriend my senior year. That was a disaster waiting to happen. He turned out to be over attached, and worried that I was upset with him if I didn't text him back within ten minutes of sending me something. My "best friend" at the time nearly pushed me into that relationship. You can guess how that friendship is going.
Perhaps, if we had been able to go through high school together, you would have been able to convince me to not run back to Karsten that summer, and completely screw up my life. Maybe if we could have been closer to one another, in each others daily lives, you could have seen the warning signs that no one else seemed to notice.
So you see, it was important to me, that you approve of this Steve guy,the one that I'm smitten with. Because if you approve, I know I must be doing at least one thing right.

A Broken Heart (Ashlynne Rose)

The more we post our writing, I feel the more jumbled it will get. That's why I put my name :)


So I nannied for a while in high school, best first job ever. I got to play with kids all day! Out in the sun getting tan, inside an air conditioned house with free reign on the fridge...the parents even stocked it with Dr. Pepper for me. I was living the high life.
And what's better is I LOVED THOSE KIDS. I couldn't help but love them. My job was to spend every day with these adorable, lively, rambunctious children that I absolutely adored! Spending every day with them from eight in the morning to five in the evening has that affect on you.
Maybe that's why it made it so easy for their mother to leave every day.
Because you see, usually when people get a nanny, it's because they need assistance with their children due to their job. Which is totally understandable, sometimes you've gotta do what you've gotta do. And in some cases, parents just need another set of hands to help out while they try and make ends meet. I get that.
But in this case, she would leave at about 8:45, saying something in passing about Costco, or a yoga class, or a doctors appointment, or lunch with a friend. She would return at about 4:45, just in time to welcome her husband home. She would leave, dressed to the nines in designer jeans and low cut tops, looking pristine and lovely.
At first, my four little charges would cry and wail and scream for mommy, mommy, where are you going? Can't I come with you? And she would look at them blankly and then leave. After about 20 minutes of this consonant, ringing crying, they would look at me, flustered red cheeks, runny noses and clenched fists, and they would sort of...sigh. A shudder, almost, from the energy or throwing a natural fit, and they would settle down.
They would ask me for a juice box, if I could please turn on Toy Story 2, and then we would all sit on the couch, and they would rest their head on my shoulder or breast, or they would wrap their little arms around my thighs and middle, and as the opening scene comes up, I could feel their sniffles and small shudders, the aftershocks of a child's crying, reverberating in my middle. And it broke my heart.
But what broke my heart more than that, more than feeling their tears inside of me, was when their sad tears for the Mother's departure stopped. When the sniffles ceased and they stopped asking for the comfort of juice boxes and Disney movies, because they weren't so affected by it anymore. They were used to the absence.
Although, they did cry and scream and wail when I left at five every evening. Go figure.

(Consonant, about the fifth paragraph)

Randumb Word Generator

Click for your punishment

((x))

RULES:
~YOU MAY ONLY CLICK ONCE.
Your word is your life sentence.
~ Every day you miss the challenge you must add another word to your list.
~ You must list your penalty words at the bottom of your finished Writing Challenge passage.

Heartbroken

I guess there has been a few times I’ve felt heartbreak. Never has it involved romance. Maybe heartache, but never heartbreak. I’ve always been pretty in control of my emotions, if I cry, I can stop. If I’m angry, I can stop. But I remember for the first time in my life, not being able to stop crying. And I didn’t want to either. For once, just once in my life, I wanted to just let out all of it. All that I bottled up on it. All I pretended wasn’t there. I just wanted to let it out. It surprised me though, how much of it there was.
I knew Andrew was going the wrong way in life. Andrew despite seeming like it, was never really a confident person. Cocky, maybe, but he could never really do things for himself. Peer pressure was not something he could say no to. And I don’t even know if it was the peer pressure, maybe he just wanted to rebel, but as long as I can I plan to pretend.
That’s what I was doing. Pretending. I knew he was lying. I knew he was drinking. Heavens knew what he was doing up at Ian’s house. I knew he was hanging out with the wrong people. I knew his language was vile. I knew he was gambling. I knew all of that. But I pretended I didn’t.
Ignorance is... bliss... right?
I knew. I knew when one of his old high school friends saw Andrew and me at Smart & Final. He asked if he wanted to get some drinks with him later. They were both still underage. Andrew acted a little surprise and shook his head. His friend seemed surprise. We left pretty quickly after that. I always tried to avoid the subject. I always knew I was important to Andrew. The only thing that really kept him at home at all was me. I didn’t want to screw that up. But I had to ask. I didn’t even look at him when I did, as we carried milk to the car.
So, you done that before? He didn’t even have to ask what I meant.
Once. I don’t do it though.
Promise me, you won’t do it again.
I promise...

You liar.

I knew he was lying. I knew he’d done it more than once. I knew he was going to do it again. But I pretended. I pretended he was telling me the truth. I hoped that lie burned in him. I hoped he felt the guilt of that lie was crushing him. Just like the truth was crushing me.
I knew. I wasn’t as knowledgeable as I lead on. I knew all of it. It wasn’t that hard. My parents didn’t know I knew. I think Andrew was pretending too. Pretending that I didn’t know.
And one night, I’m not even sure why, but it all came out. I remember standing on the stairs, my mom standing on the tile, talking to me. It was late. Really late. And she just started talking to me about all this stuff, because it was all surfacing, it wasn’t something they could keep from me. They actually needed me. They needed that relationship I had with Andrew.
All I could remember saying was I know.
Andrew has been drinking. I know. Andrew has been smoking. I know. Andrew sleeps out in his car when he was drunk to sleep it off. I know.
Of course, I said that all silently. There was not really much I could say. I was trying my best not to cry in front of my mom, despite the fact she was in tears. I remember my bed was in the middle of my room, so there was just this little walkway over by the window so I could get in bed. I sat in the little crevasse and cried. I cried to my mouth was dry. I didn’t even know it was possible to have tears stream down your face till that moment.
Everything. All the things I tried to pretend were just thrown out there. And I knew. I knew, but I couldn’t accept. And nothing quite ever sat on my chest the way that did. And it did even after I cried it out. More tears would come. So many more. Enough that I was almost not ashamed of it. Enough I could talk to my mom about it, help her, because she was more heartbroken than I was, with teary eyes. Enough to call my best friend and yell and cry about how these people, these people who shouldn’t even be in our life were tearing our family apart.
I still hate the tears. I’m glad the those tears are gone. That that weight is gone.
I don’t have to pretend anymore. And neither does Andrew.

~Marcy Elaine

SONG MASH UP SONG MASH UP SONG MASH UP

GO. LISTEN. ENJOY.
((x))
~Marcy Elaine

First Crush

I always find it funny when people can recall having a first crush, but nothing about it. Maybe a name, but that’s about it. I was almost the complete opposite. Nick Moffitt. Only reason I know his last name now is because of recent research. But I remember Nick, the things we did, the feeling I got as a 6 year old girl thinking about him. Being a heartbroken 7 year old when he moved.
Nick Moffitt had this extremely blonde hair that was the same color as something you’d expect on a polar bear. Very distinctive nose for a 5 year old. I wish I could recall how we met, but I really can’t remember. But I know it was a sure friendship after that. Him, Bryan, and me became a trio, without any real initiation. I think the reason why Nick was one of my best friends was that he knew I was a girl, accepted I was a girl, knew I like girly thing, but he also knew that wouldn’t stop me from beating him on the monkey bars or trading Pokemon cards. I still remember having this giant blister on my hand the day of Kindergarten graduation, but hey, I beat them.
I can recall all the times we would play pokemon and we would always be pikachu, because he was our favorite. Occasionally, if we were feeling adventurous we would be Didos, that became Pikachus. Good times. We even have matching necklaces. Not girly necklaces... manly... necklaces.... I still have mine. I’m too fond of it to throw it out.
When he moved I was heartbroken. I’m pretty sure he just moved to Valley Center, which is actually really close but it felt like he was moving across the world. I remember after he left there were two mattresses on one of the floors in one of our bedrooms and I squished myself between them and I would listen to the same backstreet boys song on repeat, bawling my eyes out. Such a sad farewell.
But I will give Nick some credit. He actually called me after he moved. So, maybe he only called me twice, but that 7 year old called me, just like he promised! And he tell me about his school and I’d tell him about mine and he’d tell me he missed me, and playing pokemon. Even as a young being, I was rather impressed.
 I think I might have a better prospect of getting a good man at 7 than I do at 20 years old...

(sorry, not that great, couldn't quite get into it, I'm a little angry at the moment :P)

~ Marcy Elaine

My First Crush

Aaah, Thatcher Spurling! The amount of hormones that flows through a Kindergarten classroom is truly astonishing, isn't it?
I thought that he was just the most charming individual. With his black, velcro sneakers, heavily gelled hair (expertly styled by mommy), and those alluring T-Shirts that said truly whitty things like "girls love me parents hate me" and "gotta catch 'em all- POKEMON" I found him to be very enticing.
And he really knew how to woo the ladies. At lunch time, he would split his oreo cookies in half, and give me the side with the creme on it. Whenever we were told to sit boy girl boy girl in class, we always sat beside each other on that incredible rainbow rug that every Kindergarten class in the 90's seemed to have in it's possession.
But the ultimate confirmation of their undying love for one another was confirmed in the game of Tag: Boys Vs. Girls. This was how everyone knew that Thatcher LIKED Ashlynne, because he always chased her THE ENTIRE TIME during this war. And believe me, this was a big deal. Everyone noticed who chased who during tag. When a romance sparks amongst this bloody battle, well, it had might as well be a match made in heaven.
We were strong all through Kindergarten, with oreos and tag and Pokemon t-shirts...then came first grade, and we were put in different classes. The distance was truly aganizing, but I stayed strong, so that when he would see me across the feild at the different playground, he would see that it wasn't hitting me hard.
If only he knew.
We didn't reunite until 7th grade, when we ended up in the same math class as each other. While his gelled hair remained the same, the whitty T-shirts had been replaced by back wife beaters, and he liked to discuss things like MTV, and the fact that he could still taste the tacos from the night before in his braces.
I like the memory of the Kindergarten Thatcher a lot more than the 7th grade one. I think that's what I'll hold onto. I'll hold onto the shared oreos and the Boys Vs. Girls Tag.

Porcelain

 (I changed my mind, I'm doing one more similar to yours :P sorry, it's a bit rushed and all I can think about right now is taking a shower haha, so sorry if it's a little scattered brained.)

Porcelain.
That was always the first thing anyone noticed about Marcy; her porcelain skin. You’d think it might be the blond hair but it wasn’t quite the right shade to call your attention to it. Sort of like her brown eyes. If you asked any acquaintance of her’s what color her eyes were, they’d probably blink their own a few times before saying... blue? Blue seemed logical. Blue would match the porcelain.
If it weren’t for the millions of small freckles that covered her, she’d probably be mistaken for sickly. But those little speckles said otherwise. So did that teasing smile. No, she was too determined to prove her strength through any means to ever be perceived as fragile.
Fragile like the dolls she so resembled. Marcy had lost count of how many times she’s been compared to a porcelain doll. Had been since she was a baby. A baby with round full cheeks. Cheeks she never really grew out of. Maybe that’s why she tried to act all tough and boyish. Just out of rebellion to the notion. She didn’t mind looking like a doll by any measure. But she never liked people telling her what she was. That was something for her to decide. Which... would be fine if she was a decisive person. Since she never was, she always just came off as rebellious. Which was oddly ironic considering the fact she’d probably have a panic attack if she ever broke a rule.
Mommy was also something she was called regularly. Even by people she didn’t know. Tough love was her policy. Don’t pick at that, it’ll scar. Dude, I’m all for slouching, but you’re looking like the hunchback of notre dame; sit up. You need to help with the dishes first. No, stand here, with us, not behind us. Put on sunscreen or you will get skin cancer and die. Stop that, you stop that right now; you are a beautiful amazing human being, don’t you dare feel that way, you are not allowed to feel that way. Maybe she didn’t always give kisses and gentle loving words, but the fact she cared was always pretty evident. Maybe she used it with a little force, maybe that was the best way she could care without seeming fragile. Maybe. Who know’s. That’s how she did it regardless.
She was one of those people that was like a dipping sauce at a party. You wouldn’t just eat that guacamole by itself would you? No, that never seemed quite natural. But when you paired her with something, she would become that it’s dancing partner. In a clothing store, suddenly a fashion frenzied diva, despite being seen in t-shirts and jeans. With a funny person, suddenly a hilarious comedic duo, despite not being well practice in humor herself. Got a problem, suddenly the voice of reason, despite not knowing how to solve her own problems. Need a creative partner, suddenly create a universe for your muses to reside, despite lacking motivation and inspiration herself.
Marcy was just a little more complex than anyone ever made her out to be. Not that she minded. She prefered to seem simple, mild. It was inviting. Something comfortable. Something... familiar.
Though it was next to impossible to know what was behind that teasing smile, one thing was certain and one thing would never change. One thing was certain about Marcy Elaine Wahlquist.
Porcelain.

Ashlynne Rose Harkins- The Bold One

(this exercise is happening half because I have been feeling really low, and feel like I need to find the good in myself again. I also am curious to see how you would do this for yourself)

When people first met her, the first thing that they thought of was "what a lively person."
Sometimes this was good, and sometimes this was unfortunate. Because in this world, there are some people who cannot handle so much energy and happiness and boldness permeating from one individual.
And this girl, she was lively. Ashlynne Rose Harkins- and don't forget the Rose, it's her favorite part of her name- was lively. She was one of those people that could walk up to anyone, anyone, and attempt a conversation. She made you feel good about yourself, pointing out your sweater that she liked, or the way you've done your hair, anything like that. It would usually be the reason that she is talking to you in the first place.
She was lovely. Not just that she had a nice attitude, and was kind, and thoughtful. While she was all of those things, she had a way of carrying herself in confidence. She knew that she was a lovely girl, with nice skin, a ready smile and style that she screaming class, but she wasn't cocky about it. She was so comfortable in her own skin.
While she got along with many people, and had a few that she considered true friends that she truly enjoyed spending time with, she reveled in the moments that she could simply be with herself. If she found herself with a spare evening, she typically ended up in a coffee shop writing in her journal. She loved to wallow in the music and the eccentric people and the atmosphere of these underground, odd coffee shops. She loved to simply watch people, try and figure out why they do what they do.
She loved with urgency and not haste, and as if she had never been hurt before. Because she knew that after every bad situation, there is a better one waiting. Why harden your heart when there is someone waiting to claim it?
She loved to tell people what was good about them. And she liked to do it out of blue. She will show up on someone's porch with a handwritten note and some cupcakes, simply because she finds this particular individual to be exceptional in one way or another. She found that often, these people don't even see that attribute in themselves. She thought they deserved to know, to strengthen this part, to touch more people with this goodness that they had.
She loved God. Many people have complex things to say about God, poetry as testimony. But for her, it was a plain proclamation of love. She simply loved God.

The point of this was to make myself seem like someone I would want to meet.
I'm feeling much better :)

Sooo tired

The only reason I'm even up right now is because registration for Fall Semester starts at 12:01. And I want in on the classes I need.
Which is why I changed the background. In my 11:30 P.M. state of mind, it makes sense, what with you moving and all.
If you want to change it, feel free. I won't cry.

You know that sick feeling...

You get after you talk to someone or think about something when you realize you're not really apart of their lives? Like sure, you're friends, maybe super good friends. But you will never know what's going on in their head. Know how they really feel. You never really know a whole lot about them. They'd have to pour their whole hearts out to you, and let's face that, that rarely happens, and if it did, it take months; there's just so much to a person. You're just their entertainment. And they're just yours. And the worst part is that it sticks. And you just feel like the loneliest person alive. And all you really want is to cuddle with someone, and make it all better. But they probably don't even understand. And that feeling doesn't really go away, you just forget it for a while.
I get stuck with that feeling more often than I'd like to, or ever admit. And it kills me. I know we joke about me not being very emotional, but that's mainly because I can't handle emotion. It... kills me, you have no idea...
But you know, I find if I ever have that feeling I wonder on to here, and I actually feel better. And it's not like it's because we can read each other's mind, or really get each other's existence (heavens, I hardly get mine). But I'm comfortable with this. The way we are. I know you're my best friend, and I'm yours. We're more than entertainment to each other (not that that isn't included). And that's... really a relaxing feeling. Not so lonely :)

look what I found whilst scanning the women's apparel tag

I had an epiphany about you

While drinking Dr. Pepper no less.

So I was thinking about this girl that I sit next to in class, and she's not attractive, by any world standards. She's a little quiet. Once I've talked to her, I found she was fun to talk to, you know funny. But she's sort of the type you expect to live with cats for the rest of her life. But she is actually engaged. Well... more like married without the license. They have been in a relationship for awhile. By all means, I'm pretty positive her fiance isn't a model, but you know she has someone who loves her and someone she loves back.

And gosh dang it I find that frustrating. Don't get me wrong. Like... you go girl! But I think I'm mildly attractive (maybe not terribly beautiful, but I'm certainly not ugly).  And, geez, I may be a tough nut sometimes, but I think I have a pretty nice personality. At least I think I'm funny...

So I was thinking about that and stuff...

And then I started thinking about you.

I'm pretty sure you are the dating queen.

So I was trying to think, why you can get dates with models and bums alike. Ashlynne, by all means you are GORGEOUS, but I don't think I'll see you on sport's illustrated any time soon. And you do have an extraordinary personality. But I was just thinking, why is it... guys are comfortable with you, no matter what kind of dude they are. Less face it. You've dated down... You've dated down a lot. But you've also dated up (... I think... I can only think of the model, and he was a jerk). Generally, guys don't go after girls that look like you when they aren't really lookers themselves.

Now, I understand, part of it is just environment, and the way the boys are grown there. But seriously, it's a little ridiculous.

But then it dawned on me

You have a girlfriend personality.

You have that certain personality, outlook, and everything, is just... everything a guy initially looks for in a girlfriend. Like seriously Ash, think about it. It's true. You are extraordinarily pretty, but it isn't overwhelming (all the time c; ) and doesn't take over your personality. Because your personality just shines through, and you're just... exactly a guy would expect in a first in relationship. Your genetic make up makes you that perfect in between of fantasy, reality, and expectations.

YOU HAVE A GIRLFRIEND PERSONALITY.

Which... could be good or bad, for so many reasons, but... I'm feeling a bit better about myself honestly, haha. So... I think it's because I have a mom personality. Guys don't want to date a mom haha. Eventually they'll realize in the end mommy personality is the sexyest (hahah) but I don't think I'm gonna be finding those guys at this age, and probably not for awhile.
Just... thought I'd share that with you.

Don't judge me

It's not a very good gif, I just sort worked on one things and added more later (which is dumb and complicated) Still need to add stuff (like, I don't know, breathing) but yeah. There's that.

Destination: Beautiful

some info for the vinyl here
http://us2.campaign-archive2.com/?u=82f2918bd0104127ad3fc75aa&id=67518ce22e&e=43b7f4d682
annnd... here
http://spartanrecords.limitedrun.com/products/512107

Awesome picture of me yawning to show off the Minnie ear hats

I finally got it up!

The Composition Pact

Composed January 24, 2013 in anticipation for Marcy’s move to Utah

1. Honesty is the best policy. From “Is he good for me” to “Do these shoes give me kankles”, we must always be completely honest with one another

2. At least one weekend a month with each other. The house warming gift that just keeps on giving

3. All recreational engagements that hinder our ability to do well in class and/ or take away from time needed for school will be cancelled

4. In response to number three, ordering cheap Chinese and doing homework together is not only permitted, but strongly recommended

5. The pinning back of bangs is only acceptable if stylishly done and approved by opposing Composition Pact signer via picture message

6. Monthly Temple Trips together. NO EXCEPTIONS

7. Wedding attendance is absolutely necessary. Wedding party participation strongly recommended

8. Once we bring children into this world, we are to help one another with immersing them in all things Disney

9. Just say yes to Dr. Pepper

And Above All

10. No Falling Out. I need you as much as you need me, and we must never let any disagreement or disapproval get in the way of our dynamite, radical, phenomenal friendship.

______________________________                         _________________________________

            Ashlynne Rose Harkins                                                        Marcy Elaine Whalquist

this song makes me so happy

Swing version of Smells like Teen Spirit

Okay, I know this is a place for thoughts and such

But seriously, I'm wiggling over this gif right now. I think I'm going to die it's so cute

Pretty. Odd.

Weirdest thing ever...I'm having a pleasant text conversation with Kirsten Mathewson. About Karsten!

You're the only one I'll admit this to, but there is such a sick pleasure in finding out that you're TOTALLY right about a hunch. She is waiting for him.

I seriously don't know whether to laugh or feel nuetral.

I had a poetic thought

I had a poetic thought and I need to ramble and refine it, so this post isn't exactly necessary haha but if you'd like to read it I'm sure it will get funny eventually haha so here's the original thought. I wasn't even trying to be poetic, it just happened! Sounds like something out of Breakfast Club or something...

And today, I smell the green grass and think of you, and summertime, and love without limits.

Good, right?! And here's my rambling. Feel free to disregard all of it haha or read on. Whatever.

So I'm spending the Sunday afternoon in my bed, complete with netflix, mini reeses cups, and pinterest overload. I get tired with pinterest and start facebook stalking some people. Natch. I watch Parenthood and The Office and I organize my Pinterest boards. I mean, I'm killing brain cells here, Marcy. But I really just needed an afternoon to not have to do homework or babysit or design something for my mom or make an effort to go on a date that I have no desire to go on. Dates should not be so exhausting and useless. In my opinion.
I light the green grass scented candle that Steve bought me on our third or fourth anniversary, I can't remember. It was just when the weather was warming up, it was the perfect candle. You know how sometimes I song or a phrase can trigger a memory? This smell makes me think of downtown Salt Lake, lunch dates at Wendys before work, Indie Rock concerts in Orem, cars with no working air conditioning, and no time restrictions on our relationship. The end was not in sight, and even if it were, I don't think that it would have mattered because we would have had a good summer anyways.
And now its winter and Steve is gone (to Texas of course, the perpetual summer) and my candle is almost completely burned up.
Bummer.
Amongst my facebook stalking, I stumbled across good ol' Spencer. You know, I think I might actually be upset about how that one turned out. Whatever happened to just being friends, just hanging out, just enjoying one another's company? Does everything have to have a romantic intention? Why can't I just have a guy friend to play video games with and take pictures with film cameras? Why can't we go on an adventure and start a line of photos called Silver Shades and spend our Saturday mornings drinking coffee shop hot chocolate and sifting through vinyl?
Perhaps I shouldn't get angry, he has been in love with me for a long time. Maybe being friends would be "too hard." But it's still a major bummer. We could have gone somewhere with Silver Shades.
Thank goodness you'll be here this summer for the smell of green grass. For a second there, I was almost left with a burnt out candle.

ooooh it's OOZING with cheese! But I like it!!

For once

why can't my mom just praise me for something with out to make a profit out of it? I didn't go out of my way to show you things I would never show you normal so you can tell me to make money off it. I understand she says that because she's impressed. But for once, just one freakin' time, I just want you to tell good job.

I know she's the artist, but just remind me if I crave parental praise (which is very rare, for obvious reasons) I should go to my dad.

I made a thing

I totally copied the animation for 101 dalmatians. but I think it captures my true essence.

If harry potter was a teen comedy

(x)

CLICK ITTTT.

~Marcy Elaine

Just a little gloating

So I really hate to toot my own horn...but I got over that insecurity when pulling up this blog :) I know you don't know I'm self centered, so I don't feel bad doing this ;) there are three pins in this picture that are posted from my blog. They are some of the most repinned smash book pins on Pinterest. I just feel really great about that. It's nice to get recognition for something that you are passionate about.

-Ashlynne Rose

okay so i was going through my youtube subs

and I found this video and I was just like yes, YES. it just briefly talked about what we talked about so I thought I'd share. besides it's a really good video.
(x)

this picture just makes me very happy.

Pamela came home today so I spent the day with the Lousbury's, at the airport, in n out and all that fun stuff. And shay took this picture. I kinda love it.

Nudge Nudge

So...you should check out my smash book blog. It would make me happy :) plus I really want feedback if what I'm saying sounds good and all that jazz. I know you'll be honest haha pleeeeaaase?!
asmashingoodtime.blogspot.com

Bored and waiting

So I animated something real quick. Really simple only took 5 minutes, but figured I'd share.

~Marcy Elaine

Dang it I fell asleep

Right after I sent my last text I zonked out...so now it's midnight and I'm just barely seeing this post that he's going to laugh at in the after life.
You TOTALLY pulled an Ashlynne! I thought missionaries were my territory... Although I alway niched them... BEFORE they left :P I get what your saying, though. About him actually being into the conversation personally and not just in the missionary way. That's great that you guys talked and talked well and it's all fine and dandy...but tread lightly, my dear friend. And I know you already KNOW that but be on your toes.
I think that there is a part of every Mormon girl that is just compelled to flirt with the missionaries. Haha I know it sounds horrid, but it's true! For some girls it's becuase they're off limits. For some it's becuase 'they're making good choices and that's attractive.' That's my line. And for some (YOU) they just get pretty dang unlucky and a missionary strikes up a conversation with the Gibson tuck girl without his companion.
You just need to GET UP HERE. No more flirting with missionaries...I know typically when I would type this I would be smiley and giggly but I'm actually serious. Get up here.

For some reason I'm avoiding writing this

Who knows why...
Anywho.
     So on my way to the institute building, I was randumbly thinking that I probably won't find Austin anymore, like, he's moved already (unless by some freak accident). And part of me was sad that I don't get to look for him anymore, and on the other hand it was flippin' relieving. Glad that chapter is finally closed. So I couldn't help but think about how awkward of a romantic position I am in. I want to be with someone, I really do, and yet, I'm leaving in a few months. I don't want to do that. I mean, I guess dates and stuff would be fun, but that's not what I want. I want to start looking for someone, but if I really want to, this isn't the right place to look any more, because at least for the next year and half, I'm not going to be here anymore. So that leaves me a little stranded and complicated. And just as a joke in my head I thought, what could make this chapter more complicated. I laughed to myself and thought missionary. That would certainly do the trick.
     Now you have to understand, I've never been into a missionary. And trust me I've had plenty opportunities to be into one. But... meh. Really. I've never been interested before. So, seriously. IT WAS A JOKE. But obviously, the universe didn't understand that.
So I went to this fireside, to watch the broadcast (which was amazing, despite the fact I was close to falling asleep). So I sat in a row behind all the people, one chair in, putting my bag on the chair, making sure I wasn't inviting anyone to sit with me.
     Low and behold, the missionaries sit by me. I ignored them. I thought it was kinda rich that they were sitting next to literally the only girl sitting by herself. But they sat one over. I didn't even look at them. But I knew that they would immediately talk to me afterwards (I figured they sat next to me is because they didn't know me). So I was prepared, and I was happy, because that be the perfect little conversation I could use to book it out of there afterwards.
     So after it ended, I texted you, so everyone could get situated, wait for the missionaries to whisper to each other, then start to talk to me. But they didn't. They went to talk with other people. It threw me off. So I sat there, trying to look occupied with my phone, but it wasn't working very well. So I decided, maybe by the time it takes me to put on my coat and find my keys someone I "know" will notice me.
     I started putting on my coat when I realized someone approaching me, and my thought was great. It's probably gonna be that weird guy...
     But it wasn't. It was one of the missionaries. Alone. It sorta threw me off guard. So he introduced himself (his name is Elder Risk. I mean. Risk. That's the coolest last name I've ever heard) and we shake hands (I was still putting on my coat. I shook his hand with one arm in). And I think for the first time in my life, I was instantly attracted to someone. Like, that's happened a few times, but then they start talking and I'm like.... blah. You know me, you know it's true, I generally don't become interested till take two... or fifteen. (For heavens sake, look how long it took me to notice Bobby) But he was so cute, Ashlynne. He had brownish black hair and these hazel brown eyes. He was the same height as me while I was in my 3 something inch heels.
     So we started talking, and I hung off every thing he said. He asked me if this was my institute building, and I said yes, and he asked me if I went to this single's ward so I said yes, but I still go to my family ward. And he asked me if I was interested in coming to the singles ward at all, and I said not really, and I told him the only two activities I've ever been too were both on Halloween  so... which he thought was funny. And I also told him, I probably wouldn't be coming over anytime soon because I teach primary. And he said he was actually in a similar situation, right after young men's his bishop put him in primary, so he totally understood. So he asked me about my class. He also asked my last name to see if he knew my family, and I said he probably wouldn't most of them are in Utah, so I told him about my brothers. And while I realize these are all very ordinary missionary questions, it was just so fun to talk to him.
     So he asked me what my plans were, mission, school, whatever, and I said go there and after that I have a few tentative plans in the works. I said I'm not opposed to a mission, it just wasn't part of the plan at the moment.
     So he asked me what would my preference be if I did decide to serve a mission (after saying obviously the Lord will send us where we need to go, and can I say, he didn't ask it like a survey question, like all the missionaries do, but he seemed genuinely interested. I don't know how described it, but he even moved his body, you know? like he was active in the conversation, I can't describe it). So I said Lichtenstein  And while he was surprised that was my answer, all he did was kinda laugh and said he didn't think that was a mission all by it's self, but he liked that. HE ACTUALLY KNOWS WHAT LICHTENSTEIN IS. I told him he was the first person who actually knew what Lichtenstein was when I mentioned it. He said he didn't know much about it, except it was tiny. He asked me how tiny it was exactly and if it was German speaking and stuff like that and we had a fun conversation about that.
     So I found out he was Virginia, and just talked about some things. And after everything I said that was personal about myself or opinions, (like when I said I didn't want to go to Singles because of my class, or more of the reason I'm in primary than my bishop making me, like him, was because I was avoiding RS) he wouldn't say, that's cool or whatever, he always said, "I like that". And I understand it was probably just a habit of his, but dang it was the most compelling thing ever. And I'm probably going to Hell, because I'm pretty sure I was flirting. Didn't help that his companion wasn't around.
So it went really well. I actually broke off first, before I could say something stupid.
     You know normally, I'd probably joke about how fun this is going to be in the next life, when he finds our a nineteen year old girl wrote a whole blog post about him, but I'm not laughing yet. Ashlynne, I'm pretty sure he's the new institute missionary. I'm going to see him again. And never before in my life have I wanted to go to Singles ward things, but I kinda really want to now. And like.... gosh dang it I WANT TO FLIRT. But I can't. And that sucks. It's not funny quite yet.
But yeah... that was my a little adventure tonight... and somehow I don't think it's quite over.


~Marcy Elaine

I'm putting in a request

Remember when you drew a picture of that delicious man with a husky draped over his shoulders?
Well I'm putting in a request.