Exceeding Expectations?

What am I allowed to expect from and require of other people?

This is a question I have found myself coming back to and wrestling over and over with, for at least the past 2 years, if not past 3.

Some real-world examples:
Is it fair for me to expect a returned phone call?
Is it fair for me to expect my friends to _____? (You fill in the blank: invite me, ask me how my day was, etc...)
Is it fair for me to expect people to keep their word?

These types of questions torment me most when I find myself feeling unjustified or unhappy with somebody or some situation.

After this thought process, I always come to the conclusion that it is best not to expect anything out of anybody, because then I'll never be disappointed.  After all, I didn't expect them to _____, so then I don't have to be mad.

But I think this is incorrect.  I just don't know why.

Comments from my (ahem, 2) readers are, dare I say it, expected?

Today I discovered wheat thins are the culprit for making my intestines feel like they house an overly active hamster.  It's more fun imagining this as my innards anyways.

Also, I think the kid who gets this is lucky, because he or she will feel like the owner of a happy hamster.

The Schematics of Serious Swimming

Friday morning, 5:45 am.  I awake from my restful 4 hours of sleep.  I roll out of bed, pull on my sweats, brush my teeth, make the decision to skip shaving my legs, grab my only swimsuit, (despite the fact that it is 2 seasons old, very stretched out, has little lumps of crumbled fabric as makeshift cups, AND is a 2-piece, which is not allowed), and hop in the car.  I pick up Emily, and we arrive at the RB shortly after 6.

Ah, the early hours of the morning.  I love them.  Really.

Upon arrival, I find out that the RB has recently ceased to lend out swim suits, but still enforce their 1-piece rule with t-shirts.  I couldn't be happier.

Banking on the lifeguard not noticing my 2-piece, I go  to the bathroom and begin to change.  While I'm changing, Emily comes over and tells me through the stall door that she just realized that she is wearing 2 suits (swimmers do that for the added resistance) and I could wear one of hers.  Emily is over 6 feet tall.  I am not.  Thus, we decided it would be best for modesty reasons for me to wear hers over mine.  Imagine a larger, more saggy version of this:

over this:

But wait, I was too cheap to buy the shorts that came with the picture above.  So I've got these babies from walmart under the one piece.

Layer all of that, add some goggles, and you've got sexy, modest, swimmin' NJP.

The swimming itself was less comical, but more embarrassing... 

A) We had to butt our way in and share lanes with other swimmers that weren't too happy to have us join.  Not to mention that I found out mid-workout that the two people in MY lane were the top BYU triathelete and a key member of the BYU triathlon club.

B) Emily's comment of, "if you learned proper technique, you'd be pretty good!"  As if my pride wasn't already dwindling by a thread.

C) I couldn't swim 2 laps consecutively without stopping to rest.  Maybe it was the added resistance?

Font & Murder Movies...

Due to my general lack of movie knowledge, I realize that I'm probably not the person for this job.  That being said, here are two movie reviews:

Helvetica
Helvetica is a font, as well as the name of this movie.  This was my favorite part:

Isn't that man great?! He's so passionate about Helvetica.  Besides that little clip, I found the movie interesting, considering it's an 80 minute film about a font.

Although I'm not artsy, I could tell the movie was and decided it would probably really appeal to some of my artsy/advertising friends, like Jimmy and Dane.  It had some beautiful shots of beautiful places, and had history, facts, effects, etc of fonts.  All good things.  But after 45 minutes, I decided to call it good because I was feeling saturated with font-talk and antsy to do something more beneficial with the remaining hours in the day.  Probably 2.5 stars out of 5.

The Lovely Bones

This movie was absolutely riveting.  From cowering and covering my eyes, to wishing I grew up in the 70's, to barely on the edge of my seat, this movie took me more places in 135 minutes than any other movie I've encountered. 

I loved all the little details and all the symbolism.  I loved the portrayal of her family, and their individual dealings with the situation.  I loved Susan Sarandon.  Most of all, I loved the unusual amount of truth it contained.

Despite all of this, I can't say it was particularly enjoyable.  The movie is about a pedophile.  Yes, a pedophile.  It made me want to vomit.  Multiple times.  No way would I want to watch it more than well, twice.  It left both my Mom and I both with headaches.  Despite this, I think it's a must see for ALL girls and anybody that has a girl they care about.  Hopefully that's all of you.  Go see it.  Maybe even talk to Kelli, she'll tell you how to watch it for free.

Oh yeah, 4.6 out of 5.

Soccer, the sport of all sports.

I felt like this a few times during my soccer game today. 
No, not like an angry wild cave woman.
Rather, a little unnecessarily beat up by the opposing team.
But isn't it fun to remember this ferocious little all-star from 2009?
I thought it was a good excuse.
(Just in case you don't remember...here you go.)

A Favorite Friend

Each Christmas, we make scrapbook pages for my grandparents. While looking for pictures to scrapbook this year, I found these.

They were taken last summer, when I was spending one day a week "working" at my grandparents house. My Mom took these as we were taking one of our many breaks, feasting upon Murray Burgers and ice cream.

Growing up, there were a couple summers when I spent almost an equal amount of time at my grandparents house as my own. I found out a year or so ago that my Dad had actually begun restricting the time I spent at their house, due to my siblings accusations that I was "Nana's and Pa's favorite grand-kid."

My Grandpa Holfeltz, whom we call "Pa", has played an important part in my life. To say he's my grandpa, teacher, or friend, doesn't begin to describe what he means to me.

Don't do it, Cason.

Today I scored the highest on a test I have EVER scored in my whole BYU career. It even gave me the rotating "Congratulations" and "Fantastic." (I realize that the picture isn't the best evidence, but it says it, I PROMISE.)

Pride washed over me as I blinked hard thrice at the screen, took out my phone, and proceeded to take a picture. Just then, a fellow whom we'll call EWM, comes out of nowhere and brings it to everybody in the testing center lobby's attention: "Natalie, are you taking a picture of the screen?"

YES! You got a problem with it? You would too if you ever scored that high on a test!

In fact, if he had tried to stop me, my moment of glory may have instantly morphed into a moment of triumphant outrage and resulted in a knuckle sandwich. (For the record, I didn't actually exclaim or carry out any of that, but merely replied "Yes.")

And not to be a debbie downer, but I feel the need to point out that there are bound be some gross miskeys that WILL result in a little broken NJP heart. Oh well, c'est la vie. It was fun while it lasted. Regardless of my final grades, finals are OVER and that deserves some celebration. Let the games begin.

Hopefully they won't begin with Cason actually ralphing on the carpeting like the noises he's currently making are foreshadowing. No matter, I'm just glad to be home.