We went to the Utah Special Olympics on Saturday. We watched the 200m dash and part of a softball game. It was pretty fun. They are so excited to just be there, regardless of the results. 

See a couple more photos on my photography blog, here.


My grandpa passed away this morning. He will always be one of my heroes. He gave me my patriarchal blessing when I was 14, and in it he said, 
"Go forward with optimism."
It's helped me more than he knows. 
I love you grandpa. See you on the other side. Save me a seat.

Dad, Grandpa, Grandma and Mom. December 2008.


I like this music video. Her hair. Her make-up. And her voice grows on you, I promise.


It's funny to notice who deletes you as a friend on Facebook. I mean, I would've deleted them eventually, but still. It kinda stings. I guess I can be the victim instead of the perpetrator now. Ha ha.


My grandma and grandpa Roberts have been in my thoughts and prayers a lot lately...

Grandma, Catherine and Grandpa at Bear Lake in 2007.
Grandpa and Grandma in 2007.
I'm guessing these were taken soon after G&G were married in 1951.


For some reason I'm afraid of phone calls. And I'm not sure why. But the thought of having to make a phone call to someone I don't know, or don't know very well, makes me start to hyperventilate and my heart race.
Ahoy, Ahoy, Alexander Graham Bell! (You know where I learned that from? "Glee." Yeah.)
OK, so I looked up Kirby Heyborne (from The R.M. and Singles Ward) the other day, just because. He has four CDs and some of the songs are streamed from his website. I listened to a few songs and despite my initial revoltion (which, p.s. isn't a word), I didn't want to turn it off. There's something familiar about his voice and it brings me a strange sense of joy. Maybe it's the association with the past, in Washington and visiting my family in Provo before I lived here. Anyway, I doubt I'd ever spend money on his music, but it's nice to listen to for free.

Image from here.
"Thus." I use that word a lot. I thought it was a common word to use. Apparently it's not. Thus, I guess I'm a weirdo. Meh.
I love the name Henry. Love it. My first born son will be named Henry. Well, hopefully. I suppose my husband will get a say in that.
The view from my bedroom window (I know, right?) and the sign Ben swiped from Home Depot for me. It's a great name. Henry.
I decided to utilize my spare time away from the computer. Obviously I failed by virtue that I'm typing this, but I did use some of my spare time this week to make a couple things.
The pieces of paper are from different envelopes. Have you ever noticed the different patterns on the inside of security envelopes? They're pretty cool, actually.
"A" is for Aurora. I was going to use pink, but Aurora is not a pink kind of girl, in my mind. She's tougher than that. Pink is for nancies. (No offense ... ) Ha ha. :o)
And finally, I pretty much have the most fun roommates ever. Kathryn will be living with us again in the fall, so right now we just pretend.
Sarah, me, Kathryn, Rachel


5 kilometers = 3.10689956 miles.

On Monday I ran 3.25 miles.

Things to do before I die #32 = accomplished.


I tried to take photos of the night sky and the skyline this past weekend. It didn't work very well. But that's OK. It reminds me to enjoy things with just my eyes, without a lens in front of them.


Did you watch "Glee" last night? Well, you should. This cracked me up -- Mr. Shu and Neil Patrick Harris ("Bryan Ryan") singing "Dream On."


I'm not really sure why unknown numbers call me and then they don't leave a message. Twice. You'd think if they took the time to call me multiple times, it'd be important enough to leave a message. Huh.


I get the feeling the desk editors don't like me very much. I should probably work on being more personable. I'm just not in the mood.


I called the government today. Yeah, the government. In Washington, D.C. I wanted to know some stuff for an article. They wanted to be off the record. I said I'd get back to them.

Over the course of the 2 minute conversation, I noticed my voice get deeper. I begin with a high-pitched, sweet, almost innocent voice that was an attempt at sugar-coating my request because I doubted they actually wanted to talk to me. But he was very official sounding, and not a jerk, so I relaxed. My vocal chords relaxed, actually. And I talked to him like I was Woodward. Or Bernstein. And I was a real reporter, getting information -- deep background, if you will -- on a government initiative that is being changed by the Obama administration in a sneaky way. But I can't quote him. He needs public affairs' approval.

I'm not going to be a famous reporter, defying my publisher or broadcaster like Murrow did, but I can still relax my vocal chords and talk to 'em straight. That feels good.


Oh my goodness, this is hecka cute. (From Wildflowers Photo, via 100 Layer Cake.)


I love "Glee." If you've never seen the show, then 1) You need to. 2) You won't think this is very funny until you do.

I've always liked this song. Now I like it even more.


I sliced open my ankle with a razor on Saturday night. It was an accident. It hurt, and it bled, and it stung, and it bled, and somehow, it was satisfying. I looked at the deep-red stains on the gauze, at the pink soap sud swirls on the bottom of the bathtub, and it was fascinating. I'm not sure why, but wounds, my wounds, have always been a source of pride. From the scabbed-over knee caps to the black eye and bruised shins. Whether I fell off my bike, missed a grounder at second-base or cut myself with a junky razor, my wounds have brought me a strange sort of fulfillment. I feel more human, and at the same time, more god-like. I feel pain, yet I heal. The aching makes me feel stronger -- maybe because I am able, despite the weakness. Sometimes scars remain, reminding me of the pain. But more importantly, they remind me of the healing.


© 2010 E.Gosney


I was driving today, not really knowing where I was going, just going. I decided to head home, but then got side-tracked into the mall. I was driving through the parking lot, looking around, and realized I really didn't want to go to the mall. So I spent another 5 minutes trying to get back on my way. It might have been a waste of time, except I didn't know it wasn't what I wanted until after I tried it.

Kinda like when me and Kelsey grew mustaches. We didn't know until after that it just wasn't our look.

Last summer when I was living in Texas, I played a lot of Dr. Mario. The pills, or pieces, fell constantly. I didn't have a choice in their colors or their order, I just had to choose what to do with them. Sometimes they fell into place perfectly -- the timing, the color combination, everything was perfect. Other times I'd get blue and red after blue and red and all I needed was a yellow. But in the end I got my yellow and I appreciated it that much more.

Cupcakes are really good. After work today I went and got one. I thought it'd be fun to go alone and enjoy the solitude. I was wrong. I don't like being alone nearly as much any more. The novelty of independence has worn off after four years. The cupcake still tasted good though, there's no denying that.

(It was much more fun to get a cupcake with Mom, like this one a couple weeks ago.)


Today could've been a bad day, but it was a good day.

Bad things included being completely bored and useless at work (but then I got to leave early), having my chocolate-covered peanuts melt in the sun (they hardened back up after a couple hours), having a sore above my eye that makes my whole face feel bruised (uh, hm, nope, this is still bad), and getting a ticket for having two license plates (one on my bumper because the screw is rusted on, and one in the back window because that's the one with current registration.) After finding the ticket on my windshield, I got in my car and broke down. It was odd, seeing as $30 is not something to cry over. Not that hard, anyway. It was the moaning kind of cry, you know? Usually I content myself with the silent cry, but I was alone in my car, so I felt like just letting it all out through my voice was totally worth it. After about 45 seconds my mascara was all but off my eyelashes and I was laughing. It ended up being a really good thing. I needed that cry. After that, I was in a great mood. (Ah, to be a girl and not even understand yourself, let alone have someone else understand you.)

I went to a National Day of Prayer service at the capitol building. It was kinda odd, seeing as it was hosted by Evangelicals and everyone in attendance was, well, not Mormon. I felt like I was in one of the commercials selling Christian music CDs, where everyone in the crowd has their arms in the air, eye closes, swaying to the music and singing the words. I guess I could've joined in, but I was holding a camera, a recorder, a notebook and pen, so putting my arms up would've been counter-productive. And I didn't know the words to the songs. I liked the experience of another faith (although I much prefer Sacrament Meeting and hymns). I especially liked hearing people shout, "AMEN!" and "Yes, sir. Praise Jesus." One Hispanic lady kept muttering over and over again, "Jesus, Jesus, Jesusssssssss," with the Mexican pronunciation, mind you. (Go back and read it again, saying it "Hay-soos.")

I was turning left out of the gas station today and the big truck next to me, waiting to turn right, kept back so I would be able to see cars coming in both directions. That was sure nice of him, huh? I thought so.

My roommate just got home. She's saying goodnight to her boyfriend and I can hear them. You know, like hear what they're doing. It's disgusting. So I turned on some music to drown them out. "When you see my face I hope it gives you hell. When you walk my way I hope it gives you hell..."

I wandered around Temple Square for a little over an hour today. I successfully avoided the sister missionaries until I walked into the North Visitor's Center, which, in effect, was like walking into a mine-field. There was no escape. Luckily I didn't say much about myself, thus not definitely identifying myself as a member or non-member, thus halting conversation. Then I walked away. It made for a fun game.

5.5.10 #2

Top 15 most played songs on my iTunes:

1) "Haven't Met You Yet" by Michael Buble -- 89 times
2) "Can't Go Back Now" by The Weepies -- 75 times
3) "The Piano Duet" by Danny Elfman -- 70 times
4) "Hideaway" by The Weepies -- 69 times
5) "All I Do Is Dream of You" by Michael Buble -- 65 times
6) "Baby You've Got What It Takes" by Michael Buble -- 65 times
7) "World Spins Madly On" by The Weepies -- 63 times
8) "1234" by Feist -- 61 times
9) "Rather Be With You" by Joshua Radin -- 60 times
10) "The Calculation" by Regina Spektor -- 60 times
11) "Dream" by Priscilla Ahn -- 59 times
12) "Fireflies" by Owl City -- 58 times
13) "Your Hands" by JJ Heller -- 57 times
14) "Nobody Knows Me At All" by The Weepies -- 57 times
15) "Suite for Solo Cello No. 1 in G Major, BMV 1007: I. Prelude" by Yo-Yo Ma -- 57 times

full-body shot of my car. ;o) 

me, at the park.

Life is a balancing act. Luckily it's not balancing on a tightrope 10 stories up. Cuz if you fell off, you'd be dead.


(From "Glee," season 1, episode 17)


Wow, last year on Cinco de Mayo, I was in Dallas laughing at the smashed bug Cath found on the Mexican Sprite bottle...


© 2010 E. Gosney

Sometimes I feel like I missed my train and all I can do is wait.
But then the next train comes into view and, in my rejoicing, I scurry off the tracks and get ready to board.
And then sometimes it feels like I didn't scurry fast enough.
Trains hurt.


I got a car. You can't really see it in this picture because Mom said a picture of me was more important than a picture of the car. I would have to agree. j/k. ;o) 
It's a 2000 Honda Civic. I like it. A lot. 
35 mpg
cd player
Yeah, I like it. 

Me and my buddy Mason. I love this boy. He calls me "Be-beth" and always grabs my hand to show me Buzz or Woody or Toy Story. Yep, I love this boy.

Today is May Day but I got to celebrate it early with the flowers I got for graduation. Gerber daisies from Mom, Dad and Catherine and ... other flowers from Deon (I don't know what they're called, but they're pretty!) My roommates are jealous. I think they'd be more jealous if I lied and said they were all from boys, but I'm not such a good liar. ;o) So thanks, family, for the beautiful flowers!