Dude.

A lot of people in my family have a recent fascination with this word.  But we use it when we are frustrated with something.  It's weird.  Maybe just saying dude is weird.  It's the surfer guy inside of all of us.....

Sometimes (like now) I really want to blog, but I have nothing particularly blog-worthy in my arsenal.  It's weird though.  Like I have this urge to just divulge to the internets for no particular reason.  Like if someone finds out some flaw I have I can be like, "I told the internets, and you use the internets, so you should have known the whole time."

Like this flaw:  I don't much like being told what to do.  I'm pretty bad at that.  Not that I have trouble with authority figures too much, but I don't like when things are laid out for me like they are the best thing for me to do, when really, they might not be the best thing for me to do.  Like my school choice.  A very high percentage of Mormons who go to college go to some form of Brigham Young University (Very scientific, I know).  I didn't apply there.  And it worked out for me. (I'm a rebel like that.)

Or in high school there was this big dance festival thing where the youth from my church spent months learning this elaborate waltz that we performed to Disney songs.  And in an especially dramatic part of the song, all the boys would pick up their partners sort of on their side and the girls had flow-y dresses that they would hold out while being spun in a circle.  Except that I absolutely HATE to be picked up.  And my partner definitely could have managed it, but why should I do something that I am physically uncomfortable with, especially at a church activity where they teach us that you should say no to those sorts of things.
And all the adults teaching us the dance were like, "Gigi, you are the only one not being picked up, you stick out.  Everyone else is doing it, can't you just join everyone else?"  And it still makes me a little heated because these are the sort of peer pressure attitudes that I was taught to stay strong against.  Which I did.
You can't tell me what to do.

Which is exactly what I literally said out loud when my mom's car said this:

I most certainly will not change the oil now, thank you very much.  What nerve!  Demanding that I do it now.  As if I wasn't busy driving somewhere when I got this message.  Right now?  You want me to drop everything else right now and change your oil?  Get my clothes dirty and everything?  Without so much as a please?

No thank you.


And that my friends, is how you turn one picture into an entire blog post.