Warning: This is quite a lengthy post. Here is a quick run through of what this post will include:

Let's work backwards.

4). For the last six days I did absolutely nothing but sit in my room watching movies. I didn't shower. I didn't talk to anyone save quick 'hello - goodbye' conversations. Judge me. I don't have a job, and this is how I justify spending my time. I made conscious decisions every time a chance to leave the house appeared. I simply stayed home. I DID go to Subway on Thursday... I believe that is the only time I left my house all week. I watched a total of 28 movies over the course of this week. Yes. That is a lot of movies. (I own roughly around 278, including TV on DVD and it is my goal to watch them all by the end of May. I kicked out a huge chunk of that this week.)

3). The bathroom scale and I have always had a love/hate kind of relationship. You know what, it's more like he's the bad boyfriend I just can't quit. He's mean and abusive, and always made me feel fat. But there's just something about the brutal honesty that I adore. Well, Scaley and I have a much better relationship now. He's treating me nice, and the best part is, he's still completely honest. I suppose I have put A LOT of work into our relationship, and it's actually starting to pay off. I took him upstairs to meet my family when he said "189.6 darling. 189.6" this evening. It was the most rewarding moment of our relationship thus far. And you know what that means? He's just one step closer to saying that thing I want to read most. "165! Oh, 165!" And I will say it right back, no hesitations.

2). An old friend of mine had a dream about me last night. After a very long night, I had pretty much determined that I was not going to go to church (I'm sure it was the anti-social week thoughts lingering in my head.) and I got on my computer to email my R.S. Pres to tell her I wouldn't make it. But upon opening facebook, I noticed a wall post from Niki. "I just had the craziest dream about you...remind me to tell you about it! OH MY GOSH!" I debated with the tired portion of my mind for a moment, but the curiosity section has always been slightly overbearing and bullied me out of bed. After Sacrament Meeting, I pulled her aside and she very animatedly told me about her dream."

Singles Ward Family Home Evenings make me smile. I always get dressed up, because inevitably, there will be guys there. It's a great chance to meet people and just talk and laugh in a way that is difficult during the Sunday block schedule meetings. 

I put a little bit of effort into my appearance yesterday, but my whole heart wasn't into it like it usually is. I'm still fighting off the remnants of my cold, and I have a pinched nerve in my neck that makes it so I can't turn my head. I feel like Michael Keaton in Batman. I'm guessing the mask isn't nearly as painful as my pinched nerve. Maybe a bit more claustrophobic, but probably not painful. 

I showed up a little late and sat down by Natalie. I love this girl. Problem is, we should never sit by one another. I have a few people I should never sit by during could-be-edifying moments. Danielle, Pete, and Dale. Being reverent seems monumentally impossible when sitting next to these people. Though things can get very entertaining when the lesson drags on. 

A guy named Brad was giving the lesson. Brad's a nice guy and he has great arms... I'm just not attracted to him. I mentioned this to Natalie, who pulled out a piece of paper from her purse and wrote me a note. We spent the rest of the too-long-for-FHE lesson passing this little envelope back and forth, laughing at the crazy things we said. I won't share all of it with you, but here's one of my favorite parts!

Kate: I won't deny that once I'm married, I'll probably try to convince my hubby to wear some tight little tights and treat me like a damsel.

Natalie: Well, you definitely have the hair for it. 

Kate: I suppose it is the hair that will make it believable. Costumes won't matter for long.

Natalie: OH! You can be Ariel and he can be Eric!

Kate: "Honey, Ursula just made me human! Kiss me if you want to keep me!"

Natalie: At least you won't have the awkward 'Kiss the Girl' scene!

Kate: No, no! Definitely don't need any crabs!

Haha! Natalie, I love you so much! That was such a funny conversation.

Last night while my family was hanging out, my sister brought up the 'pickle girl' segment from a few posts ago. Here's the quip if you missed it.

Speaking of pickles, my dad bought some last night. WHEW! They cleared my sinuses! I would so take a jar of pickles with me to the dance, but I don't want to risk two guys having THIS conversation. "So, was she cute?" "She smelled like pickles!" "OH! You were dancing with pickle-girl? Sorry dude. I could have warned you." No thank you. I do not much want to be pickle-girl! 

My dad made a very good point. "But what if the guy LIKES pickles?"

We all laughed pretty hard, the conversation between the two guys becoming something more along the lines of:

"So, was she cute?" "She smelled like pickles!" "OH! You were dancing with pickle-girl? Sorry dude. I could have warned..." "What are you talking about? It was intoxicating. Forget classic! She was VLASIC!" "Pickles turn you on?" "Are you kidding me? I smelled her breath and I heard the CRUNCH!"

As I mentioned in my previous post, I have a cold. It's not a huge deal, and I've been managing. I'm very doped up on all sorts of meds that my spell checker does not recognize. Zicam, Cold-A-Tak, Vicks Vapor Spray, Cepacol throat lozenges. I still feel a little groggy, but all of this has allowed me to go about my daily life with minimal discomfort. I'm being very careful with my medication, don't worry.

Although, on Friday, when I realized I was getting sick, I wanted to do all that I could to get over it. I had plans for the weekend, for crying out loud! So I dug through our medicine cabinet, looking through the array of meds for something that could kick my cold out of my system before it really took hold. I took some vitamin C, and read a few labels. Cold-A-Tak promised to get rid of my cold three times faster. It had the potential of being a miracle! Take five times a day for the first two days. I did the math, figuring I'd be awake for about 15 hours. "Okay! I'll take a pill every three hours then!" It was about hour nine that I realized that they expected me to take them every five or so hours instead of every three. Whoops. But there weren't any noticeable repercussions. Maybe I'll die of cancer of the roof of the mouth or something years from now.

I was able to attend the highly decorated dance because I was so heavily drowned in drugs. It was a little silly. When I arrived everyone was positioned in a circle. I felt myself groan. It was a single mingle type of dance. All of the boys were in a circle with their backs to each other, a girl facing each guy. You do a couple step-togethers, a spin or two and then the girl moves to the next guy. It's like speed dating to country music. I hate these activities. I tried to duck out...but was caught. I suppose there were a couple of guys that were very cute that I probably wouldn't have danced with otherwise...

The dance was a bit of a dud. Nothing special. I had to keep dodging a guy that I didn't want to talk to all night to the point of leaving the dance early. It wasn't a huge loss. I wasn't doing much dancing either way. Though, I did have a good conversation about marriage with a friend who was also frustrated by the dullness of the dance.

Sarah: I think I'm going to start fasting to find an eternal companion.

Kate: I'll fast with you!

Sarah: Every fast Sunday?

Kate: Why stop there? Lets fast EVERY Sunday. OR, every day! We'll be very tuned in to the spirit AND we'll lose weight!

It's the perfect plan!

Today, I woke up with a closed throat. Oh dear. If you recall, I was supposed to be singing in the choir. So I spent two hours singing through the song, sucking on a cough drop, and trying to work out the lump in my throat. It worked to an extent and I felt comfortable singing. Though, I do admit, I have taken my voice for granted. Once you lose something (if even for a few hours) it's much more appreciated. The choir sounded lovely! 

It's been an interesting weekend. I'm really hoping that my cold goes away soon.

Also! Happy Valentines Day! I've been spending it watching romantic movies. My dad also made blueberry pancakes for dinner which were fabulous! It's been a good Single Awareness Day.

When I was younger, we had stake dances (a youth dance for the church) twice every month. From the time I was 14-17, these dances were the highlight of my 2nd and 4th Saturdays. (Though, I'm not sure why I went most of the time. I usually came home crushed about something some boy did. Psh. Boys.) I haven't been to a dance since New Year's Eve 2008. I remember that I really liked them, even with the stupid boys. 

My singles ward hosts dances quite frequently. I always tell myself I'm going to go, but never do. For some reason, I think I'll sit on the sidelines, never dancing. In my mind, I'm finding it hard to believe that adult single guys are going to ask me to dance. Or maybe that there will only be one or two guys there at all! 

Tonight is the Valentines Dance. I'm actually really excited to go. I've got a group of girls I'm going with and it should be a really good time.

However... I have a cold. It's not crippling, but I sure can't breath. I've been taking every little step I can to clear it up by tonight. I don't feel I'm having much luck. I'm sure I could tough it out, but what guy wants to dance with a sniffling, stuffy, breathes-through-her-mouth girl? I don't want to leave that impression! And it's not like I can tell them I have a cold! The word will spread like the viral infection I'm likely to spread to a few people. "Don't dance with THAT girl if you don't want to get sick!" I'm in a pickle.

Speaking of pickles, my dad bought some last night. WHEW! They cleared my sinuses! I would so take a jar of pickles with me to the dance, but I don't want to risk two guys having THIS conversation. "So, was she cute?" "She smelled like pickles!" "OH! You were dancing with pickle-girl? Sorry dude. I could have warned you." No thank you. I do not much want to be pickle-girl! 

So, I'm crossing my fingers, hoping against hope that the cold will diminish before 8pm tonight. I think I'm going to go and drain my sinuses again. (Have you guys ever used a Neti Pot? SO gross, but so awesome! WOO!)

You know, I've been trying to find events in my life that are blog worthy for nearly a week. Everything I do just seems too simple or mundane to create an entire blog post, let alone anything witty. I'm at a loss. So, I'm simply going to give you snippets from my life this past week.

I decided to start a gratitude journal. Well...blog actually. I decided that I needed reminding that there were good things in my life even though sometimes it doesn't seem like it. It's really only for me, and the past three days have been pretty great because of it. You are all welcome to read it, and I also encourage you to do the same. (I have yet to make it adorable, don't judge me.)

As of this morning, I have officially lost 20 pounds in 2 months. It's incredible what eating right and using appropriate portion sizes can do! I'm living testament that it works and hopefully will continue working.

I got roped into singing in a musical number in Sacrament Meeting on Valentines Day. It's not just me. It's a whole choir number. It's not a permanent choir, but I think that we should make it permanent. It's been so much fun, although challenging. We have one week to learn this song that has tricky four part harmony and piano and violin accompaniments. It's a BEAUTIFUL song. (And there are REALLY cute guys in the choir. Mmm. Music and musically talented boys. The best of both worlds.)

Sunday was full of butterflies and smiles. I know I said I don't think I'm feeling anything special for Pete, but I've always enjoyed it when a guy winks at me. He did so multiple times throughout the three hours we were both in the church house. Maybe the butterflies in my stomach were really feelings of guilt. Here was this guy that really seems to like me (for once) and I'm just not sure I can feel the same way about him. I've tried to make myself feel better by telling myself that he simply had an eyelash in his eye... that seemed to only plague him when he caught my gaze. Yeah. That's plausible, isn't it? Or maybe he hates me so much he has developed some kind of nervous tick that makes his face light up when he sees me. Am I doomed to only like guys that don't return the favor?

I've decided to go stag to the Valentine's Dance this Saturday. Is that pathetic? I don't think so. From what I heard from the guys at choir practice last night, they are all going, but don't have dates. No wonder I never date. The guys around here don't even ask girls to a free Valentines Day event. For crying out loud...

We all know that Valentine's Day is the holiday of love. I'm starting to realize that I'm probably not going to find a date for the 14th. But even so, if I did, it seems to me that having a meaningless date would kind of negate the idea of the holiday. A meaningless date does not equal love. So, while it might be fun to have a date on Valentine's day, I'm no longer going to focus on that. Instead, I am going to focus on the things that I do love. 

So I'm sure you've all heard the phrase "Spiders are more afraid of you than you are of them" as told by parents who hope that their children will not grow up to be arachnophobes like themselves. But somewhere along the line, a spider dangles from a web right in our faces, and we FREAK out because the thing has FAR too many legs. So spiders are more afraid of us? I know this NOT to be true.

 Last summer, in the wee hours of the morning before going to bed, I decided to 'tidy' up my room a bit. I lifted an object that needed putting away from my floor, when a very large spider scurried over my fingertips, and under a napkin that was strewn on my floor. I squealed and grabbed a shoe, pounding the napkin to a pulp! I then flipped the shredded paper with a pen, and there it was. A spider laying in the fetal position, legs in the air. My napkin was in tatters, so I didn't have anything to pick it up and throw it away with, so I left it there until further notice.

I went about cleaning up my room. And because I'm paranoid, I'd continuously peek over to were the spider carcass lay. Still there. All is well. But on my fifth glance. Wait, what?! Where? Where is it?! Ew! Get of the floor, get off the floor!!

A few hours later, I finally decided that I should sleep, justifying to myself that a severely mangled spider was nothing to worry about. He'd probably crawled off somewhere to die, right? So I went to bed without a worry. Yet the next morning I woke and noticed this small insistant itch on the top of my right foot. I had a spider bite! Are you kidding me? That spider had it in for me. He waited in the shadows until I was asleep and he could sink his teeth into me. Low blow spider, getting a girl while she's sleeping. 

Over the course of the next two months, the spiders were out to get me. I'd see nearly five a day, most of the time in my room. I came to the conclusion that I had killed these spider's mother and they wanted revenge. The only thing is...they were all different species of spider. That's when I realized: I had killed the Angelina Jolie of Spiders. She had an overabundance of children and they were as diverse as could be.

I hate spiders.

But spiders are generally detestable. People don't judge you for hating spiders, because most everyone you meet hates them with the white hot intensity of a thousand suns, just as you do.

People judge you a bit when you tell them you are afraid of dirigibles. You know, those large blimp like things? Zeppelins, airships, whatever you want to call them. They used to fascinate me, but somewhere in my life I developed an irrational fear of the things.

*Shudders* I think on some level I've always been a little terrified by them. When I was little, there was this cheesy anime movie 'Kiki's Delivery Service.' I LOVED that movie. But there is a dirigible crash in that movie, and the giant floating thing above the city always gave me chills. It's just kind of escalated from there.

I'm very glad we live in an age where these things don't fly around anymore. However, they seem to be a popular trend in movies lately. Tonight was Institute and after our lesson we watch the movie 'UP!' Adorable movie. I have no idea how it ends. Why is that? Because the villain flies around in a dirigible! (Very fitting. He was the most terrifying villain I've seen because of his choice of aircraft.) I tried not to make a big deal out of it, I would simply not watch the screen. Wow, the looks I was getting from people. I don't know WHY my mind is repulsed by the blasted things, it just is! What happened to the concept of not judging people? "Judge not lest ye be judged!" C'mon people! We're at institute! At least pretend you understand that principle of the gospel. I left the room and didn't finish the movie.

It's an irrational fear. I don't understand it. If I did, I would try to explain. I actually quite like this strange quirk in myself. I find it quite funny! However when you are trying to flirt and look adorable, people staring at you like you are a mad woman with a big ol' zit on your forehead doesn't make you feel too flirty.

Romantic comedies will be the death of me. 

(This is, of course, an exaggeration. No one has ever died from watching a romantic comedy. Someone might have died while watching a romantic comedy; but to my knowledge, cheesy lines and overly unrealistic love affairs projected on a screen have not caused a person's heart to stop beating permanently.)

What I mean by this is: while I am watching a romantic comedy, I laugh, I cry and I enjoy myself. 

Until the end. 

Something about watching a guy profess his love for a girl after three dates really annoys me. That never happens. (Except at BYU.) I find myself a little bitter as the final credits roll across the screen, thinking things such as "Yeah, that's totally unrealistic." "What they don't show you is the terrible break-up that's going to happen in a few month's time." "I hope they get married and have ugly kids." 

Of course I know that it's all fictional. And maybe this is what bothers me the most. Life is not like it is in the movies. Is it just me, or does everyone feel like this after watching the too perfect happy ending wondering why Hollywood does this to the world? 

I'm usually able to make myself feel better by reminding myself that I am watching a significant amount of time crunched into an hour and a half. So though it may seem like they just end up together, they didn't. They had problems. I mean, did you miss the cliche blow out in the middle? "Oh no! There's been some kind of misunderstanding and when we figure things out we'll be happy forever!"

I'm sounding like a total skeptic here. I'm sorry. I'll move on. Today I watched two romantic comedies that, while I was sad at the end, made me think of a bigger picture. Something to look for outside of the ridiculously corny "you complete me" nonsense. 

The first of these was from the movie "Hitch." This movie is hilarious and so far fetched in so many ways. But aside from that, 'Hitch' is constantly telling people to put themselves out there. Good solid advice. What have I been saying in most of my recent posts? Be social, dang it! This movie is just reiterating that fact.

The second was from the movie "Penelope." A girl born with the nose of a pig is able to break the curse and gets a cute, perfectly proportioned nose because she loves and accepts herself just the way she is. True, the love interest loved her just the way she was, but that's not my point. Or maybe it is. If you love yourself, someone somewhere will also love you for you. This also makes you more confident, and apparently that's attractive. Who knew?

So, in addition to my already standing goal to be more social and put myself out there, I am now going to try really hard to love me for me. (Maybe once I accept myself, my butt will miraculously be transformed into a cute, perfectly proportioned butt. Here's hoping!)

It's completely bogus, but I've been reading my horoscope almost daily. I have the button bookmarked because it is a quick and fun thing to check if I have a spare minute. (I have lots of those.) The horoscope is rarely true. Half of the time it's so vague that I am left staring at the computer screen with a furrowed brow and a skeptical mind.

About ten posts ago I mentioned how I wanted to be more social. I would still like to be, it just doesn't seem like I'm making any efforts in that category. I haven't gone to church for two weeks. I realize that I was sick for one of them, and accidentally slept halfway through the other, but I'm feeling it taking it's toll on me. For a while, church was the only time I socialized with anyone and now I don't even have that. 

In thirteen days it will be Valentines Day. That all too famous if-you-have-someone-to-squeeze-it's-great-but-if-you-don't-you-are-miserable holiday. For me, it's always been the 'but-if-you-don't' part of that overly long hyphenated word. It's not usually as bad as that. I'm not miserable. The day comes and goes just about like any other. No plans and single. 

Tonight is Family Home Evening, and while I could have gotten ready and gone; instead I curled up in my lovesac with a quilt and watched the third Spider-Man. (Ever since I wrote the post about looking like Kirsten Dunst, I've been craving it. I had a marathon and watched all three.)

My point is, the thought of this horoscope is great and maybe it could happen. But not if I am here in my room sitting on my can, watching Peter Parker sweep his hair into his face and dance down the street like a total moron. (That scene makes me cringe in embarrassment for him.) So, starting tomorrow, I'm going to get my carcass out of my bedroom and do something. I'm not saying that by doing this, the horoscope will come true, but it's not going to hurt to stop watching Spider-Man alone in my bedroom. (I'm finished with the movies...so it's not a huge loss.)