Confessions Unconcealed

Dear Leisa,

2011-01-27T23:25:00.007-07:00

Today was your birthday, and I think you should know you've been on my mind for weeks. I can't help but wonder what a life with you would be like. I'd like to think we'd be best friends. I'd like to imagine we'd have an unbreakable friendship in which we understood each other in ways that maybe no one else could.

But you went Home before we really had the chance to know what that would be like. Yet, I will always admire you. You stuck up for me when I hadn't the courage to speak. You had a way of making me feel like I belonged, despite our difference of age, no matter who we were with. Did I ever tell you that you were the one who convinced me to move to AZ? I wanted to be there because you were. And so, I am left here wishing you were here today, wishing I could help make it a wonderful day. I love you dear sister. Please know I'm still loving you.

Love,

gina marie

TrOgLOdyTe

2010-08-16T12:21:00.008-06:00

trog·lo·dyte /ˈtrɒgləˌdaɪt/ Show Spelled[trog-luh-dahyt]

1. a prehistoric cave dweller.

2. a person living in seclusion.

It's the perfect word to describe me and my interaction with the online networking world, or lack thereof. My mother-in-law would be pleased to see me use such a word. It is a term she used often with Brandon as a teen. Every morning, as she opened the curtains and let the sunshine in, Brandon complained about the light and how it hurt his eyes. He wanted to keep the room as dark as possible. As a result, she called him a troglodyte: 1) a prehistoric cave dweller, living in the darkness of a cave.

While I do not particularly want to live in a cave that eliminates the light from the world outside, I do find myself limiting my interaction with others in the world online. For this reason, I call myself a troglodyte, using a second definition of the word: 2) a person living in seclusion.

Now, with this definition comes an explanation and several apologies. First, the {apologies}:
To all of the 21 FB friend requests I did not accept until today: I'm sorry.
To all those who have commented on my wall, blog, or sent a message with no a reply: I'm sorry.
And to all those who never received a birthday wish from me: I really am sorry.

Though this is not a comprehensive list of all the wrong I've done (obviously), I really do feel bad for not communicating to the people I love. It doesn't make sense, especially when I value the friendships I have. Yet, why I am I not more eager to stay in touch, if I truly care?

The answer? It's a personal problem. Really, it's not you, it's me. When I get on the internet to do something as simple as reply to a comment, I find myself spending hours reading updates and viewing pictures. It's as if I lack the self control to stop. One click leads to the next, and before I know it, it seems like the entire night is spent staring at my computer screen. I feel like with all that time on the computer, I should have pages of homework done, but nope, not one. It's actually kinda depressing, just knowing I'm capable of sitting so long without really accomplishing any item of business desperately needing completion. I feel downright lazy.

Consequently, I've moved to the opposite extreme. Rather than devoting hours of my time interacting with the world of friends online, I've eliminated that possibility as I've avoided the networking scene altogether, in fear that if I even do so much as log on, I will succumb to the temptation to waste away time in which I should be doing other things. Since my senior year began, I've ignored the world of people outside of my view, secluded myself from them, and thus, become a troglodyte.

As result, there are the pro's and con's. On a positive note, I've been able to stay focused on my studies, and not feel guilty for not neglecting my homework, calling, or husband, due to excessive time on the internet. It has felt great to be able to accomplish what I set to do, without getting distracted, oh so easily by the click of my fingertips.

On the negative end, I've been neglecting people. Not just anybody either, people I care about. As if right now, I still am not completely certain how to go about finding the balance, but I do know that nothing is extremes is a good thing. So to all those I've ignored, I do apologize, and am genuinely sorry. Just know it's really not you, it's me, trying to figure things out.

P.S. Brandon read this post, and then asked if I wrote this to the bishop. Too serious? lol.

I'll leave the baking to {him}

2010-03-06T11:24:00.005-07:00

While there are many attributes in which I thankfully inherited from my beloved mother, I begrudgingly admit that her baking skills was not one of them. I do not enjoy the process, nor the results. As my frustration levels rise at the very thought of baking, I can't help but consider why I have produced a shameful number of baking failures. Thus, after an in depth analysis concerning the cause, here is my final conclusion, impelling me to confess: I {don't} follow the recipe.

Okay, okay, I know this analysis deserves an automatic, "Duh." But, believe it or not, there is a reason behind my madness: strict adherence to recipes restricts my creativity. Perhaps, I stand alone in this theory, but as I follow a recipe with rigorous precision, I feel limited by the scrupulous measurements required. To me, the joy of cooking comes from making the recipe my own through personal modifications and estimations. I prefer to think of recipes as a guideline, not a commandment. Thus, exact obedience to a recipe is a meticulous process which I do not enjoy.

The FINAL Finale

2009-12-17T03:29:00.004-07:00

Fireworks are a mysterious thing. Every year I anxiously watch and wait. Amidst the rapid firings are the intermittent lulls. With each pause, I can't help but wonder if the {finale} proceeds. Seconds seem like hours. When the firings return, I am convinced this is the end. The crowd grows silent. Viewers hope for a more grand finale, but accept the uncertainty. Then, just as I am about to leave the anticlimactic scene, an explosion of light fills the sky. Thunderous popcorn deafens the air. Undoubtedly, I know, this is the FINAL finale.

And so it is with my semester. I anxiously await the outburst of testing that is about to take place. I don't how or why I have ten finals from only seven classes, but matters still remain. Last week I took four, but six await. Today, they will come. Ready or not, here they come. Undoubtedly, I know, this is the FINAL finale.

[ONE]

2009-11-01T22:37:00.004-07:00

It's been...

[ONE] day since he carried me to our bed.

[ONE] week since he bought me flowers.

[ONE] month since he hung my decorations.

[ONE] year since eternity began.

He is the [ONE] who has captured my heart so deeply, so gently, so firmly. He is the [ONE] who found me when broken, wounded with heartache--unwillingly to open, but showed me what it meant to love. He is the [ONE] who believes I can do anything. He is the [ONE] who hears me, feels me, and knows me better than I know myself. He is the [ONE] who's touch, so tender, can make me cry. He is the [ONE] I can never get enough of.

Big Confession: I'm dating other people

2009-09-02T14:54:00.005-06:00

I know. First, the shock of Vegas and now this. But it's true. For weeks now, I have been on dozens of dates with a plethora peeps. It all started about a two months ago. I received a call from a man, wanting to meet me in his office. It seemed so innocent. And so I did. Since that day, my life has certainly changed- for the better. I now have the privilege to work closely with the youth of the ward. I was called as the first counselor in the Young Women's Presidency. These women are amazing! I have thoroughly enjoyed all of my one-on-one dates to get to know them individually. Working with the youth has been a huge blessing in my life, and I only hope and pray that they may know of my instant love for them and desire for them to be happy.

p.s. For the record, I absolutely admire and adore my handsome husband. There is no one in the world I would rather be with. Eternity will never be enough for me!

Wordly Confessions

2009-08-18T16:42:00.007-06:00

This post is inspired by my dear cousin Chelsea. I hate to admit it, but Brandon and I are the wordly ones of the family. WE {love} Vegas. Went there on our honeymoon and can't wait to go back. We loved the shopping, the Fall weather, the shows, but most of all the FOOD. We gained 5 pounds in our first 24 hours of marriage, and the numbers keep on getting bigger. One buffet after another. Ate six plates of crab legs saturated in butter and enjoyed every bite. There was much to enjoy for a party of two. Now, a place for family fun? Not exactly. Not my first choice...or hundredth. But for now, Vegas holds a place in our heart. A place set aside for sporadic get-a-ways, filled with romance and adventure.

I tend to make {small} things BIG.

2009-08-10T10:49:00.007-06:00

Sometimes, it's the smallest things in life that become the biggest. For some couples, it's the toilet seat. Others it's the toothpaste-- maybe the brand or tube squeezing technique. I too am guilty of making the {small} things BIG. Here are just a few of the small things Brandon does that I think are BIG:

Falling asleep in his arms: No matter how tired we are, or how recently I threw my latest fit, when we lie down for bed, Brandon {always} extends his left arm over my way, places my pillow on top of his shoulder, and brings me in closely so that my head lies comfortably near his chest. It's routine. We both know we won't stay in this position forever, but it doesn't matter. Being close to him those last few moments before my minds fades into unconsciousness means everything.

His excitement to see me: Everyday when Brandon comes home for lunch, he cracks the door open, peaks his head in, looks to the left, looks to the right, and then searches the house until he finds me. As soon as I'm found, he yells the word "LOVEY!" like a little kid who just discovered candy. Then he runs towards me, picks me up off the ground, and lays on a wet one. His excitement to see me is the best feeling in the world.

Only he calls me {Lovey}: He is my Lovey, as I am his. It's the sweet, endearing name he endowed to me during our early dating days. For him to say "Gina" sounds like another four letter word. I prefer Lovey. Such a simple word lets me know I am his, as he he mine. Truly, it is the {small} things that I tend to make BIG.

Confession #3 Sometimes I'm merciless....

2009-07-13T21:34:00.006-06:00

It was another one of those days when I should be ashamed of myself. The key word is should. Allow me to explain.

Today, as I was innocently shopping in our local grocery store, I heard an announcement over the intercom, like a voice from above. It beckoned to me saying, "Hello shoppers! The cookie eating contest will be held in five minutes. For those who would like to participate, please take your seats in the front aisle 2." Say no more. I was there. This was certainly a call from heaven.

So there I sat, waiting for the remaining contestants to arrive. I was ready for the win. Eating is my forte. It's what I do best. This was my time to shine and win the grand prize- no hold backs. The problem? Well, as the table of contestants filled, I was surrounded by my competitors, all half my age or younger.

At this point I have a decision to make. Do I resign? Let the children fight this battle amongst themselves? Or at the very least, I could take it slow and let the kids win. No mature, civilized/non barbaric adult would really take the glory away from a child would they? I did. I confess, sometimes, I can be merciless.

p.s. My husband is proud of me. Perhaps we both have issues. Or maybe he just enjoys the prize.

I confess: I did it....but I didn't like it

2009-07-02T10:53:00.005-06:00

Yesterday was a big day for me. I broke down and did exactly what I didn't want to do; I finally showered. You know what it's like when there's something you dread doing. Everything else seems to take priority. ANY excuse seems valid. But I think my reasons are legit.

Here are my top [five] reasons why I dread/delay showering (not ranked in order of importance):

1. [wet hair:] Let's face it. Blow drying your hair is extremely damaging. The more often you shower, the more you blow dry your hair, and the faster your hair is damaged, the quicker you get split ends, which leads to more money spent to get it cut! Does anyone agree with me? Plus, who wants to blow dry their hair on a hot and sweaty day with no air conditioning? Not me, that's for sure. The solution: don't shower.

2. [wet skin on dry clothes:] You might as well have me chew on cotton. I get goosebumps putting dry clothes on a wet body. I hate the feeling of cotton sticking to my skin, and having to peel it off. Ugh, the thought just makes me cringe. Instead, I would rather run around naked until every drop of water has dried, but there's never time for that because I postpone showering until the very last second. It's always wash and go, no time for for drying. Get the clothes on and get out the door.

3. [clogged drain:] Please, tell me the truth. Would you be thrilled to shower if you knew that you were about to stand in the midst of hairy, dirty water, one and a half feet high? Nothing grosses me out more than the gobs of hair coming out of our drain, keeping me company while I attempt to get myself clean. Every time I shower I witness a month's worth of hair rise from the dead. It's like I have to shower after I shower, just to get all the hair of of my ankles. Is that encouraging? I think not.

4.[intentions to work-out:] Postponing my shower until after I exercise just makes sense. I mean, what's the use of showering in the morning if you know you will get sweaty later in the day? Sure, I could shower in the morning and night, but how likely is that? Clearly, it makes more sense to simply shower when the work out is done. The problem? Well, this is the way things usually go: I often think to myself, "Since I didn't exercise this morning, I'll run tonight, and I don't want to shower now, because I know I'll get all sweaty this evening." This thought is usually followed by, "I'm too tired to run tonight, but I'll definitely work out tomorrow morning and shower after that." And so the process repeats. It reoccurs in streaks more often than I would like to admit. Truly, I do intend to work out, but....

5. [coldness:] It doesn't matter if it's winter, spring, or summer; getting out of the shower is always cold. Sure, I could be more like Brandon and crank the heat on high to create a steamy sauna, but still, what happens when I leave the bathroom? Coldness. Pure coldness, which I of course, I dread.

My First Confession.

2009-06-20T20:31:00.007-06:00

To all of those who have never witnessed my blog prior to this day, allow me to reveal my first confession: "Confessions Unconcealed" was formally known as "The McDonald Farm." Why the need for change?

Time for a reality check. Do I really strike you as the {farm girl} type? Sure, my adolescence years were spent in a small town where FFA grew rampant, but have I ever milked cow? Felt comfortable on a horse? Tortured myself to wear a pair of Wanglers? Absolutely not. In fact, animals remain a foreign phenomenon. Throughout my childhood years, pets were the enemy; they were the unfriendly furry creatures that threatened my safety and caused the house to stink.

And yet somehow, I am married to the man who loves anything with four legs. Perhaps it's time for me to overcome, yet another, one of my fears, and take on a love for pets. Is it that easy? Only time will tell.

Honest Assessment.

2009-06-20T15:23:00.000-06:00

It's time for a bit of honesty. I cringe at the the thought of writing. No, that's wrong. Actually, I loath the idea of other people reading my writing. Wait. That's false. I write with the intent to be heard, but most importantly, I write because I {feel}. The essence of feeling it what makes men humane and helps define each personality. My feelings (the composition of me) are constantly changing and with this evolution comes the desperate need for documentation, and yet, eight months have passed from the first post I've made, and there's is not a word to be written.

What then, is the cause of my prohibition? Do I blame the absence on time? Laziness? Inexperience? Lack of content or all of the above?

Or perhaps, there's a deeper explanation that lies only within the realm of my psyche. Perhaps, it is my subconscious connection that equates publication with perfection, and therefore, prevents publication because perfection in writing does not exist, for when is a piece of writing ever truly complete?

With this dilemma discovered, there calls a need for sophisticated solutions. There must a cure, some methodical practice, which writers have used to overcome the problem that lies within me. Certainly, I cannot be the first who struggles with the need to perfect. Indeed, I am not. Proudly, I announce that after much research and analysis, a resolution to such a problem does exist! With profound insight, I declare the following formula: Step 1) GET OVER IT, step 2) write anyway.

To my readers who find fault, get over it. To myself, the greatest critic of them all, get over it and write anyway. To those who continue to read, I am not perfect. My feelings, thoughts, and expressions are often incomplete. Yet, after years of imperfection, I must be true to myself. I write for me and feel a need to document my life and ideas (as disoriented as they might be), and can no longer allow the presumed judgment of others to prohibit this process.

The Adventure is about to begin...

2008-10-11T22:48:00.002-06:00

The McDonalds now have a blog! Yay! Welcome to our farm. Brandon and I have less than two weeks until we are hitched and I officially become apart of the McDonald family. I'm so excited!