When I grow up I want to be an Atomic Bomb.

(There is a video here.)

Follow me on Instagram.
You can’t see me wink at you.

I’m still here.

So, every time I have a lull in writing on my blog, I always feel like I have to explain why I was gone so long.
Well, I feel like sometimes there is not more I can say about what’s going on in my life.
I mean, how many times do you guys want to read about how lost I am or the fact that my life is one huge experiment in making questionable choices and then living with the consequences?
And during those times I always feel less inclined to post some of my more silly posts, like the ones of what I like to wear, because even though there is not much thought that goes into those, I am just not feeling it.

Instead of explaining, I figured I would just post a song about how I have been feeling lately.

(There is a song, listen to it here.)

Wanna hear me sing?

So, there is this guy I am friends with on Facebook who is a creative type.
And every Sunday he makes videos of himself playing the piano and singing.
He’s really good…also really attractive.
There’s just a lot of pros to watching him sing on Sunday like a little fan girl.
And when you are following someone doing covers of songs, you request a song, right?
He sang a song for me and so then he requested that I sing a song for him…

(There’s a video, view it here.)

Well, after I created it and posted it on Instagram for my friend, I received this video from my sister’s friend:

(There’s a video, view it here.)

I blushed when I saw it.
Apparently I have a fan.

Scratch my Back.

Yesterday I was walking into church and one of my coworkers who travels a lot was standing in the lobby. I hadn’t seen him in a while, so I asked him to sit with me. (After I said not to talk to me…)
He normally doesn’t, but he said okay. So, we went and sat together, distracting each other since we are both rather silly.
Well, after the sacrament, the people he normally sits with came in and sat with us.
A skinny blonde and a copy of her who was a brunette. They looked like Forever 21 models.
Then two more came and sat in front of us with another man.
As we were all sitting there, the blonde next to my friend started to scratch his back as he leaned forward and then the same thing happened with the brunette and the man sitting in front of us.
It was like they were in sync, which was really odd for me and rather distracting.
Funnily enough, my co-worker was turned towards me and making jokes to me while she was scratching his back.

Now, why does this matter?
I don’t know. I was just having a mix of feelings while I was being surrounded by attractive people scratching each other’s backs.
First off, I thought about how I wanted to scratch someone’s back in church. That is rather cut and slightly intimate while you are sitting together.
But I recognize that it’s not my time to be scratching other people’s backs.
What can you do?

But also another thing that I was thinking about as this was happening is how I always wondered how girls like that got to sit with attractive men like him.
I mean, anytime you see attractive guys like him at church they are always in groups with two or three girls and they all sit together, but they are just friends.
How do guys have so many “just friends” Forever 21 girls? That scratch their backs and crap.
Then they wonder why they never meet anyone new at church.

So, here is the weird part (and why I am bringing it up) there have been so many times when I have seen a cute guy at church and wanted to talk to him, but then I saw his friends and realized he would probably not be interested in me.
Because as I was sitting around these girls, they all look the same to me and I am not looking like they are.
I am looking a little bit quirky over here with my bright green pencil skirt and big Ray Bans.
But I was okay with that today.
As I sat there I wasn’t feeling what I normally do anymore where I have that slight ping in my stomach that makes me wish that I could look like that or that men would pay that much attention to me.
In fact, I was sort of glad that I was the oddball in this scratching fest.  Which is kind of a break through for me.
There haven’t been many times in my life where I didn’t look at a super skinny girl and think “Man, I wish I could look like that.”
There were so many times that I wished that I could be one of those girls so I could scratch a guy’s back too. (Sounds weird, but okay.)

Anyways, I felt like this was substantial yesterday.
For me to realize that all the body positive and be yourself influences I have been surrounding myself with has in fact made an impact on me, but also that I could look at those girls scratching guy’s backs and think “It’s not my time for that.”
That’s a huge deal too.

I realize this all may have been disjointed and not a fluid post, but I feel good about it.


I got your number!

I feel like the last two years have been a huge learning activity in terms of dating and what to do about men.
Those of you who have been consistently reading my blog know this.
But all of these learning activities has led up to me becoming more and more relaxed in terms dating.
I am still not very good at it and this is why I have become relaxed.
Because when I am actively searching it out, it gets disappointing.
Expectations are not your friend.

So, I like to put out my thoughts on dating, not because I want to help anyone, more so I just like to write out my thoughts and this is like my public journal.
Recently I sort of gave a guy my number.
And by sort of, I mean this happened:

Brother Stapleton

First off, this guy was a lot cuter than he sounds in my description.
Second, if you were wondering if I am scared to walk up to a guy and give him my number, I am not.
However, anytime I have ever done this, it never really works out for me. So this time I wanted the guy to have my number, but I didn’t want the rejection that comes with him not texting me.
So, they can reject Brother Stapleton and it’s no reflection on me.

Well, I was sort of surprised Brother Stapleton was down for it.
Surprised the guy took the number from a random older gentleman.
But even more surprised when I got a text the next day.
My scheming plans work sometimes? What the heck with this?

So, I had been texting this guy and it really didn’t seem to be working out. He wasn’t that interested in me and was consistently telling me “I’m just saying words to you.” or admitting to not being into the conversation.
Okay, I don’t need someone to just say words to me. I would rather have someone actually engage with me.
And then it dawned on me: I don’t have to keep texting some guy who is not interested in me.

You are probably laughing at this point. “Duh, Corrie.”
No, not duh and I will tell you why.
First off, it can feel so amazing to have someone texting you. Even if it’s a guy you aren’t getting on with, to come back to your phone and find out someone had something to say to you…YES!
I don’t have anyone except my sister saying things to me and especially not guys.
I want to have a guy texting me and to have my phone light up all the time.
But not like this.
And yes, that’s a stupid realization to come to, but it was a realization.

The second reason this is not a duh to me is that so many times before in my life I have been so craved for a boyfriend that I would never openly be okay with just “Oh, we don’t click.””
If a guy seemed disinterested, I was going to make him interested!
I was going to text that heck out of him until he loved me, gosh darnit! Because I need a boyfriend so bad!
So, having a situation where I can openly go “Okay, he’s not interested. Oh Well.”
That’s a big deal to me! I am growing up and becoming more patient and crap!
This is awesome!

The point is, I am a bit proud of myself for being empowered enough to let go of trying to force myself on guys.
Just because a guy will text you does not mean that you will live happily ever after.  And it’s okay to decide you don’t see it.
Also, get your bishopric members to hand out your number.

I’m getting better at life and stuff!
You can’t see me wink.

(There is a song there. You can listen to it here.)


Will I be pretty?

This week I read this article (don’t ask me the link, because I don’t know where it is. Saw it on Facebook) and the title of the article was “The End of Pretty”.
I want to be pretty, so naturally I clicked on it.
Because I am not dying soon, so if pretty is ending, I will have to strive to look fine?
Come on now.

This article was actually one that made me think a lot. The writer was a man, which is nice as often times articles about beauty are written by women, and he was just talking about how girls no longer strive to be pretty. They strive to be hot and sexy.
He explained that being pretty is more about beauty and innocence and it inspires in a man to want to take care of a woman. Protect her.
Whereas being hot and sexy is something that is consumable and has more to do with physical attraction.
He brought up the example of Grease and how pretty/beautiful Sandy was in the beginning of the movie and how she gave that away to become hot so everyone would like her.
He talked about how forward women are now and how they wear less clothing even younger. How they strive to be sexy consistently and appeal to men sexually now, even in movies.
And how men look for this more in women now too.

Oh. My. Goodness.
I realized he was right.
There is not much innocence in the world anymore and women do strive to be sexy all the time.
I have often had a few moments where I felt down on myself for not being a sexy person. I’m not really sure how to be sexy.
I could always lick my lips?
Ehhhhh. I would rather be pretty.

The way that this man talked about how men feel about pretty women was so delicate and sweet.
That when a girl is pretty, they need to take care of them and protect them.
I just think of a man wanting to hold that pretty, innocent girl.
And I want to be that girl and have that sort of sweet, loving action done to me.
It made me think of this song:

(You can listen to it here if you are reading this in an email.)

Just romantic and beautiful.

Well, the other day I was talking to this man who didn’t know me very well and he came out and said “You’re just a good church girl.”
At first I was a little taken aback.
Clearly this guy doesn’t know me very well to so easily compartmentalized me like that.
Now, I go to church and it is the center of my life. I read my scriptures every night, attend the temple twice a week and I am a female, so technically the stereotype does apply to me. I see where you are coming from, man.
However, the way he said it was more in a derogatory sense than the times I have brought up that I am good church girl.
Like that made me naive and….lame.


Obviously this guy is not the one for me.
I don’t say that I do the spiritual things I do to be pretty, but at the same time it does lend to this new definition of pretty that I have received.
Being a righteous daughter of God does bring that sort of good feeling the writer of the article described.
And I can see where it’s not appreciated any longer by someone like the man I was talking to.
But I think that being pretty would be very romantic and I want someone to recognize those parts of me more than to want to have sex with me.

I may be butchering what I am trying to say, but mostly when I think of myself as being pretty now, I think of my testimony and how I feel when I share it.
I think about attending the temple with my future companion and reading the scriptures together.
I think of how smart I am and how I would try to be sweet to a man.
I think of telling him how handsome he is and whispering sweet nothings to him.
I want to be that kind of pretty. Innocent romance pretty.

That kind of pretty

So, I am a girl. (In case anyone hasn’t noticed)
I do girly things.
Like make-up. I have worn make-up since I was 12 years old and if you are one of those people who are going to try to convince me to stop, it’s too late.
We have gone too far with the make-up.

I’ve always known that my make-up takes up the largest portion of my time getting ready.
I mean, most of the time I spend getting ready for the day is in front of the mirror. I usually shower at night, so that time is taken away from getting ready. And the rest of the time is just putting on clothes.
But I didn’t really think  my mirror time/make-up took that long. I mean, I do a pretty basic make-up routine.
I don’t like wearing a ton eye shadow, because at the end of the day it doesn’t look as good as it did in the beginning of the day.
Plus, I am very phlegmatic and that’s a lot of work.

Anyways, I always think that even though I spend the bulk of my time in front of the mirror, it really doesn’t take me that long. (Repeating myself)
However, there is a stereotype out there about girls taking a long time to get ready.
Just for kicks and for my own knowledge, I timed myself in front of the mirror.

From the beginning of putting my hair up to wash my face/brush my teeth to the time I put in my contacts (Yes, I put in my contacts after doing my make-up) and taking my hair down.
This is the amount of time it took:

Makeup Timer


I decided after doing that little exercise that I was going to get up a little earlier to accommodate the fact that I very closely take almost an hour in front of the mirror.
And the bulk of that is my eyeliner.
Knowledge is power.

Anyways, here is my make-up.
Let me know if it’s not 38 minutes worth.

Makeup Time Pic EyesClosed

Makeup Time Pic


Extreme Close-up!


I wanted to post something today, but it just seemed kind of overwhelming to organize my thoughts enough for an actual topic.
Not gonna lie, I really didn’t do much today. I had one of those weeks where everything I did just seem to not turn out right and all my endeavors did not succeed. Except for one big event.
I went to the Temple this week, which is a big event in an LDS members life. I’ve been preparing for months to go and I finally did.
But then everything else around it just fell apart.
Even this morning, just as an example, I got up for church and got all dressed, which I looked cute.
But then when I was sitting in the car my sister pointed our a huge stain on my dress.
Where did the stain come from? Who’s to say, I hadn’t even eaten in the dress.
So, I had to drop my sister off at church and then drive home, take off the dress and put it in the wash.
And afterward I didn’t want to try getting dressed again.

Here’s the thing, and this may be a side note, I love to coordinate my outfits. I really do.
I’ve talked about it before on here and I am getting more comfortable with posting my outfits.
But when you sit and think about your outfit and what you are going to wear, if that outfit goes south, I really don’t feel like trying again.
You had one chance to see me dressed today world and you opted out.
Make better choices universe.

Anyways, to add a little more clarity to my giving up, last week all of my big plans came together, including going to the temple.
It was like one huge answer to all my prayers last week. Literally everything I had been hoping for came through.
But then this week it all seemed to unravel and even though I got to go to the temple (which was beautiful and life changing, don’t get me wrong) it just all went downhill.
I cried hysterically a few times. Cried myself to sleep a few other times. And the times I wasn’t crying, I had a major migraine. (The kind that feels like someone has a pick behind your eye and just keeps digging into it.)

Well, jumping around here, early this morning I was trying to make new plans and take new steps toward the goals I had. Trying to undo the mess that was created this week.
But then after the dress fiasco I was laying in my bed in my underwear and I realized that I didn’t want to think about any goals or any plans or anything. I definitely didn’t want to talk to anyone.
I just wanted to lay there and not think at all.
Last night I had a dream that I was stuck in a cave full of water and there was only enough air room for my head and I was treading water to stay afloat. There were these bugs and water creatures that kept climbing through my hair and no matter how much I tried to get them off, I could still feel more.
Literally the most stressful, anxiety dream that I can remember.

So, I feel like I need a time where I can just exist. A time where my mind and my goals sits in a resting state. Where it’s just a blank canvas for a while.
I can go to work and just keep to myself.
Listen to classical music to relax me. Stick to myself at work, not make waves. Spend some time at the temple.
Just breathe for a minute, because doe times I am so busy trying to strive to get things done, even if I may seem like I’m not.
I just want to exist for a little bit. Like a cloud that’s just floating by.

Why I love Funky Shoes.

So, the other day I came into work and my coworker told me “Why are you always wearing such funky shoes? You just find the craziest shoes.”
I really do and it’s my freaking favorite.

Let me explain why, take what I am wearing today:

(Couldn't Decide which pic)

(Couldn’t Decide which pic)

Kind of boring. Just a blue shirt, green skirt and blue tights.
Not trying to hard.
BUT WAIT! Check out those shoes…

Paradise TOMS

I am not boring. Paradise Toms baby.
Suddenly my simple outfit has been given a new flair to it and I don’t look like a boring dork.

Let me show you again.
Floral Outfit August 8 2014

This is what I wore yesterday.
Just a black pencil skirt, even more simple than a green one. Pink on pink  floral pattern.
But then, whaaat?

(Obviously not taken the same day.)

(Obviously not taken the same day.)

You can add some spunk to a normal, business casual outfit to remind the Man that you have a personality that will not be squandered.

That’s why I wear funky shoes.
Because suddenly even my most boring outfits at work can be turned into an adventure.

You can’t see me wink.

Living Statues.

Do you ever have times where you have troubles and you can’t get them out of your head so you can sleep?
I’m lying in bed trying to not think about my troubles and leave them to face tomorrow.
Trying to push them from my mind and my thoughts turned to statues and the different Greek statues.
I’ve been thinking about how each of those was sculpted after an actual person.
Then I tried closing my eyes and picturing these people. Tried to see what they saw. Look through their eyes.
But I couldn’t, because in the end I don’t truly long to be someone else and I don’t know how to see not as myself. I can see perspectives, but in the end I only want to see as me.
Which I should take comfort in that, except when I am trying to avoid myself.

Anyways, just some thoughts while a troubled mind tries to sleep.

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