I wrote this over a year ago, but never published it. It's interesting, to look back and wonder what was going on in my life, and in my head. Or, for YOU to wonder. I know. Ha. Anyway, here's a poem I wrote.

Anticipation of rejection.
A needle poised for injection.
Pacing. Waiting. Heart racing.
Each second, an hour.
Do it, you coward.

Nye to insanity.
Unflattered, my vanity.
Stab the needle in,
I beg you.
Bring the pain,
and then,

Back to the way it was.

Before the disease.
The one all stupidly seek.

I'd rather get punched in the face
Unwanted, but not




"I saw a woman the other day. She had the most beautiful Mom hands."

"What ever could you mean?"

"You know, Mom hands. Muscular. Worn. Short fingernails. Able."

"I suppose so."

"There may have been an age spot or two. And veins, you could see the veins."

"They sound quite the opposite of beautiful."

"Hm. ... Sometimes I fear I'll never have Mom hands. You know?"

"I suppose so."

Conversations With Myself, No. 3


I had a birthday and it was fantastic. 

Some of us went to dinner at Macaroni Grill.
[Simon, Kyle, Andi, me, Jessica, Soleil, Noah, Brynn, Anjilee, Cody, Kjersti, Calvin]

Then we blew out candles. And because Kyle's 25th birthday was the day after mine, he had to face the fact of growing old, too. (He's pointing at the dreaded 25, not the fact that he's standing
next to me. Promise.)

Then we played games. Tom gave me a football and insisted
on posing like this. 
(Seriously, look at my arms!)

Telisha and me.

Kyle and me.

Stefany, me and Jessica. We had to take a couple because Stefany and Jess were on one and, well, they were on one. :)

I didn't get pictures of everyone that was there (my bad), but nonetheless, it was a blast.

(Jessica and me also went rock climbing and saw "The Odd Life of Timothy Green" in the dollar theater, which was quite good. Quite good.)


My throat is swelling up and my face has the odd sensation of someone slamming it against a glass door, but I feel like I owe it to the Internets people to write something funny.

OK, let's be honest, I don't owe anyone anything. Except Jessica. I think I still owe her like 20 bucks.

It's December again. Did you hear? My favorite month. Full of Hallmark Original Movies and really crappy baked goods that everyone eats because it's Christmas time and they're afraid of hurting Great-Aunt Bertha's feelings by not eating the gluten-egg-sugar-free oatmeal raisin cookies. This is the month of horrific Target commercials and Real Simple magazine ads giving you ideas for stocking stuffers "Under $100!" and "Gifts for the whole office!" for 50 bucks a pop. I don't know who Target and those other retailers are trying to market toward, because my stocking's contents over the past 25 years combined hasn't reached a value of $100. I mean, Thin Mints and tooth brushes aren't cheap, but come on.

(Hey Mom, thanks for all the stocking stuff. I really like Thin Mints. And tooth brushes. You're the best. Love, Elizabeth.)

December also happens to be the month of my birth. That's right, as a little taste of the joy December 25th brings, you get a taste of Elizabeth on the 8th. — But not a real taste. That's disgusting. And illegal. And I have about 17 communicable and non-communicable diseases. So, buyer beware. Not that you can buy me. That's also illegal.

I'm turning 25 on Saturday. Twenty5. Two-Five.

I feel like I should buy fireworks or write up a Last Will & Testament, or, you know, eat brownies. Maybe listing out my top 25 accomplishments will make me feel better about hitting a quarter-century. Here we go then:

25. Learning to walk. Very important.
24. Cursive. Also crucial in this ever-advancing technologically-driven world.
23. Eating an entire box of Oreos in 24 hours by myself at age 19.
22. Crashing my scooter three times within the first three weeks of owning it, and not totaling it.
21. Getting my first kiss in high school.
20. Not getting any STDs in high school. (Or college. Or, ever.)
19. Memorizing the monologue at the beginning of The Lord of the Rings movie.
18. Owning a Perry the Platypus plush toy.
17. Sending away for an Avengers poster with cereal box-tops and $4.
16. Fixing the drain in my apartment.
15. Riding California Screamin' six times in one day.
14. Barfing on the first day of lacrosse practice in front of the whole varsity team after running a mile.
13. Barfing across the kitchen table after reaching for just one. more. taco.
12. Getting stuck in the basement bathroom for an hour because I didn't want the missionaries to see me in my pajamas. And surviving to tell the tale.
11. Using perfume bottles and matches to make fireballs in the tree house.
10. Stealing upwards of $10 from my mom's purse in first grade to buy pencils from the pencil machine at school.
9. Skipping recess detention in first grade because I was so bada** and then playing POGs for keeps and cleaning out Helen and Tony's stash.
8. Losing a toenail after running the Red Rock Relay. Like I was saying, bada**.
7. Making my own skinny jeans out of boot-cut jeans and daring to wear them in public.
6. Eating an ant.
5. Asking a chaperone to dance at a Stake Dance.
4. Beating Dr. Mario on Speed Level High. (Take off the last two words in that sentence and you have another great accomplishment. Unfortunately not one of mine.)
3. Getting my bachelor's degree but still making less than people with a high school diploma.
2. Turning down the hoards of boys beating down my door so I can remain single and independent and go on a mission.
1. My hair. I mean, seriously, have you seen my hair?

Happy Christmas!



Interesting thing, death. Not that I know anything about it. But I can imagine.

This thought came to me today, the one written just above. And as I wrote it, thinking it would be the beginning of some great essay, it became at once both inane and enlightening. I will allow you to judge its silliness, but let me tell you why I thought it worth a second look. You see, it is true. I know nothing, comparatively, about death. Nor do I know anything, comparatively, about love. About trust. About friendship and heartache and betrayal and sin and forgiveness and fear and happiness. In comparison, I know nothing. The depth of that original thought, the one written above, comes in the overwhelming fact that I know, and am, nothing. Nor will I ever been much of anything. In comparison. And comparison is how things are measured, are they not? Yet I heard it once said that "comparison is the thief of joy."(It has been attributed to both Theodore Roosevelt and author Dwight Edwards) So what is it? Either I am nothing, compared to others, stuck in misery, or I am without measure, oblivious to others and happy. Or is it neither? If I am actually something, instead of nothing, then my whole argument is false.

Without measure. I didn't realize the impact of that phrase, the other meaning to it, until I wrote it out. For isn't that a way God and his knowledge and blessings are described? "Without measure." He promises us that, if we obey, align our will with His. And isn't it also true that God is no respecter of persons. He does not compare us to each other. He loves each of us, sees us all of "great worth" (D&C 18:10) and infinite potential. It's as if He has blinders on when looking at us. We will be judged, yes, but not in comparison to what so-and-so did and what we did. But just what we did. Where our heart is at. There is no one else to compare us to, it's just us. And yes, we are nothing. The scriptures tell us that. And yet, they tell us of the infinite potential we have as well.

Interesting thing, God. Not that I know anything about Him. And yet, I do.


Yes, yes it is 3:19 a.m. I've been edited photos for the past 3+ hours and my face feels disconnected from my head. Odd. Very odd.

How about some photos, not edited, but equally as visual as any other photo. Whoa, yeah, I'm super tired. 

I was practicing my Spanish one night instead of going to sleep ...

 I went to Portland a couple weekends ago. These are my feet, waiting at the SLC airport.

I brought a sweatshirt to Portland. I should've brought a parka. It was freakin' freezing, especially waiting outside the Portland Temple for Bart and Gayleen. (Cuz they were getting married!)

The Portland Temple has a visitor's center with Books of Mormon in lots of languages. I pretended to be a non-member at first. It was fun, the sister missionaries and senior couple getting all excited to tell me stuff I already knew. Haha. 

Next came Washington. This is a bridge.

This is another bridge.

 This is my grandpa. He — is awesome. 

This is Bart and Gayleen. They got married. Remember?

Stevie and me. How it should be. "BFF for live baby, woah!"

This is Seattle and my feet again, waiting at the ferry. Some guy was talking to himself and pacing near me, each time getting closer to me. So I left. 

And flew home, to Utah. It really is home now. Washington is where I grew up, but Utah is home. 

I'm a horrible pet owner.

I'm alright at handlettering though. I got paid for this beauty. It went on a wedding invitation.

I bought this shirt. Yes, yes those are sequins. Jealous ...

Turns our you need a typhoid shot if you're going to Chile. And a flu shot if you're going into the MTC. And meningococcal meningitis too. But let's focus on what's really important — my arms are awesome! 

Catherine sent me this. So. Awesome. Her friends are
obviously pretty cool.  

I feel like I'm just dumping my phone photos on my blog without filtering them. ... Oh well. 

Jessica made me this card.

Me and Gayleen have really good "textanges" — exchanges via texting. This is a tid-bit.

Alright I think that's it. Good night. :)


Holy buckets, Peter!

(10 points to whoever can name that movie.)

I don't have any time to write, but I did want to share my Instagram profile, so you can see all my crappy-photos-made-somehow-cool-with-hazy-filters! I'm not gonna lie, I like it when I get a lot of "likes" on a photo, but I take photos mostly for my own sake, to keep a visual record of my everydays.

[recent photo - Sluy's Bakery in Poulsbo. Mmmm, boy.]




I'm starting to feel like one of those newly engaged girls who can only talk about wedding stuff. Or like a Nothing-Is-More-Precious-Then-Being-Prego-And-I-Happen-To-Be-Pregnant-So-Everything-Has-To-Do-With-My-Pregnancy-Even-Though-It-Does-NOT! kind of woman. Except both those things involve men, and I'm super-duper single, and my obsessive, life-changing event is my mission. So, yes, you guessed it, I'm writing something else about my 18-month stint in Chile so that my posterity can know me that much better, and so that none of you forget: I'm going on a mission and it is the single most important thing in my life, therefore it MUST be that important to you and your dog and your bus driver and his overly protective mother.

What I'll Miss While On My Mission

My family, my friends, blah, blah, blah. I know. But the OTHER things I'll really miss while I'm gone are:

1) Release of "Catching Fire" (second movie in "The Hunger Games" series)
2) Using my super awesome cameras, because I can't take them with me.
3) Release of Iron Man 3.
4) Music other than MoTab.
5) This YouTube video.
6) And this YouTube video.
7) My iPhone.
8) Instagram. And Facebook. And Twitter. I mean, holy-moley, who's gonna update my feeds while I'm gone?!
9) Walking around Target aimlessly for hours buying things I don't really need.
10) Sleeping in church meetings.
11) Texting Stevie at 4 a.m. asking if she's awake.
12) Disneyland.
13) California Adventure.
14) Modern Family.
15) Psych.
16) 80s Dancing and my Dance Pants (although I just might bring those suckers with me.)

There are more. I may need your help coping with these depravations, so letters and packages are appreciated.


There are some actually important things I'll miss related to my family, actually, like:

1) The birth of Devon and Sarah's third child.
2) The inevitable marriage of my brother, or my sister, or both.
3) Christmas Eve Bingo
4) Roberts' Family Reunion (most especially the dance competition)

Until next time, don't forget I'm going on a mission. But if you do, I'll just keep reminding you. Because, hallo, it's super awesome and you should be super excited every time you see me, or hear my name, or think about me. I'm super serious.

Viva Mexico!



Wanna know what it feels like to be a white girl who's never left the country once in her 24 years (except to Canada, which hardly counts as another country) and is suddenly leaving everything she knows, everything she loves, everything that is familiar and comfortable, to go for a year and a half to a country and people and language completely strange, foreign and unknown? And not only that, but to share what is the single most precious and influential possession she has, which happens to be of eternal importance, and all in a tongue she doesn't yet know, nor will she adequately know even after she gets there? Here's a visual for you:

Some of you can relate, I'm guessing. I've never needed so much faith in God (and self-administered pep-talks) in my life.

Wanna know what my mom feels like? That illustration coming soon. ;o)


Two nights ago I opened my mission call. I turned in my papers about 4 weeks ago, so it took longer than I anticipated to get my call, but it was worth the wait. Here's the video of me opening it. I'm not a good crier, especially while trying to talk (thanks for that trait, Mom ;) but I think you can still understand me, right?


I asked if the people there could hold their applause (or whatever) so my family on the computer could hear. That's why you hear Andi go, "WOOOO!" and then cut it short. Haha, thanks chica!

I leave February 13. Wish me luck. It's gonna be awesome.

 The group. Rob Clegg (1st counselor in previous ward's bishopric); Alicia Wilcox, Laura Ludlow, Andi Morales and Ashley Warner (American Crafts); Kathy Palmer (awesome lady); Jessica Bues (best friend and roommate); Anjilee Harris and Nikki Lefevre (neighbors and friends); Gayleen Brown (former 1st counselor in my RS presidency, and friend!); Sarah Victors (best friend and former roommate); Noah Robins (PRIMO!!); John Bodine (previous ward's bishop); Anna, Gabe, Brianna and Tucker Gosney; and then there's me at the front holding my call and the computer who has Mom, Dad, Kelsey, Deon, Devon, Sarah and families. Ben and Dillan were on phones, Thomas was in flight, and Hayden, Mason and Gage were running amuck somewhere in my apartment. :) 

Andi, Ashley, me, Laura and Alicia. American Crafts girls!

Noah and me (Primo! Did you know he speaks Spanish too? Who knew!)

Kathy and me. She seriously is awesome. 

Gabe, me and Anna.

Sarah and me

Gayleen and me. She speaks Spanish too.

Cameron White (he came late. And doesn't speak Spanish. He speaks Korean.)

Jessica is the bestest friend a girl could ask for. 

Anjilee, me and Nikki. The best neighbors you could ask for. Oh, and good friends too. :) 


May I suggest never saying to someone, "Wow, I like you, because you're so much like me!" One, that's hints at severe self-centeredness and narcissism, and two, I'm guessing that other person likes you well enough for being YOU, but there's some glaring flaw in your make-up that has them thanking their lucky stars they are NOTHING like you. So when you make the comparison that you and they are very similar, it will probably put a damper on their ... life.

Just a suggestion.


I have a couple habitual, go-to phrases when walking away from a conversation. Such as, "Well, have fun!" even if they aren't doing anything or going anywhere. I think people are catching on to my insincerity and lack of verbal skills. Catching on like a moose to a speed boat.


I can do a pull-up now. IN YOUR FACE, WORLD!


I kinda feel like I'm on speed right now, thus the strange topics and exclamations. Although, I've never been on speed. Or any narcotic, legal or illegal, come to think of it. But even if I weren't afraid of prison, health problems, STDs (those fall into health problems, huh?) or divine retribution, I wouldn't do drugs. I'd drink. Boy howdy, would I drink. I once said this, and also that I wondered what it felt like to be high, during a seminary class. May I add to my first suggestion that you never do this either. I may never have been to an AA meeting or drug counseling, but shoot-dang did that seminary class turn from Bible study to intervention faster than a humming bird on heroine. I learned my lesson: Keep all curiosities about illecite substances to yourself.

Which, obviously, I just failed to do, as I publish this on the Internets. (That 's' was on purpose, grammar-Nazis.)




I suppose I've loved him since the day we met. That first day, so many years ago. I didn't know it until now, that all these years he's been there, holding a part of me that no one else has. No one else can. I couldn't call it love back then, but now there's no other word for it.

How I wish I could muster that courage to tell him. It fills up my chest, this feeling does, and I'm afraid that when (not if, for I will muster that courage) I open my mouth, the words will burst out, hitting him like a water cannon, shoving him away in shock and confusion and fear. And I can't stand that thought. I can't stand the idea of him not being here. Of not holding that part of me. Or worse, taking that part with him.

But maybe he loves me back. Even a little. I think that would be OK, to know he even loved me a little bit. Or maybe, just maybe, he has the same fears. Maybe he has a water cannon of words filling up his chest.

But that's just wishful thinking. I am no Emma, though he be Mr. Knightly. And it hurts. The truth, it hurts.

Love hurts.

Now I understand that saying.


A lot of people know, but for those who don't:

I'm going on an 18-month proselyting mission for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Woohoo! I don't have my call (assignment) yet, but I should in the next couple weeks. I could be sent any where around the globe, speaking nearly any language. I'll be serving the people of that area and sharing my testimony of the restored gospel of Jesus Christ.

This wasn't something I was planning on doing. At all. But Heavenly Father never ceases to surprise me in His plan for my life. I was actually praying at the end of July about something not wholly unrelated, but certainly not a mission. After 45 minutes on my knees and a lot of discussion with God, I got up with an unmistakable knowledge that I was to serve a mission. I had concerns, you betchya, about finances and my career and friends and my age, yet none of that mattered. I was enveloped in peace. Truly. And that's not something I can boast very often. But that night — and continually since that night — I have felt full — do you know that feeling? One of satisfaction and confidence and determination and excitement. And everything was — everything is — so good. And so right.

People always seem to ask, "Where do you want to go?" and "What are you scared of/excited for," but not many people ask, "Why are you going?" So I asked myself that. And here's my answer: I want to share this gospel — this truth, this light, this love and joy — with everyone. The gospel has shaped my life and Heavenly Father has blessed me so much, I want to share those blessings with others. Sure, I know a lot of people don't want to hear about it. They are content with where they are. But that's OK, I just want to have the chance to share. And to serve. Gosh I'm excited to meet new people and serve them. Be it simply through raking leaves, painting walls and giving hugs, or having them gain a testimony of the gospel of Jesus Christ and seeing their lives and eternities change, I'm just excited to be there with them.

My availability date is January 1, 2013.

[In case you want to know more about missionaries, here's a great link.]

P.S. Feel free to guess where I'll be sent. The winner will get an autographed picture of me and a box of candy. Pretty sure that's the best prize EVER.


My friend Gayleen is marrying Bart in November. I got to take their engagements photos for them, and boy-howdy was it fun.

© 2012 e.gosney

I love the candid ones best.


"Hi-ya doc. You are a doctor, aren't ya?"

"Yes, that's what my degree says, at least." He talked slowly, his deep, full voice forming words that hung for a moment in the back of his mouth. He didn't look up, but stared intently at his right hand that was cradled in the left, turning his wrist back and forth, back and forth.

"Well, watchya doing down here, doc? Why don'tchya get on up to the hospital where you's belong?"

The two men sat in a dimly lit bar, both hunched over the worn wooden counter. Stale smoke hung in the air and saturated every surface. The twang of country music played in an endless story of love and loss and death and regret.

"I ... don't ..." The doctor attempted to respond, still holding his wrist, still turning it back and forth. Back and forth.

The man with the questions scrunched his forehead, lowering his face to catch the downward glance of the doctor's absent stare. But the doc was gone, lost in the recesses of his mind, wandering the caverns within his skull, searching for answers that were not there.

"Well, best of luck to ya, doc." The man hesitated as he rose from his stool, waiting for some acknowledgement. Shaking his head, the man patted the old bar and walked away.

"I don't ... belong ... anywhere." The whisper faded unheard into the smoke. He turned his wrist back and forth. Back and forth.

Back and forth.


Red Rock Relay - Sept. 7 & 8, 2012

This past weekend I ran 16.8 miles over the course of 32 hours, going on about 1 hour of sleep, along with 11 other people doing the same ridiculous thing, all for the sake of fun. (Ha. Fun.) Our team, Team Tortoise, ran a total of 187 miles, from Brian Head to Zion National Park. I was in the Sun Van, which, in comparison to the Snow Van, has harder and longer runs in the worst parts of the day. So fun. I was with some awesome people, no doubt. Probably the best group you could ask for, actually. And that, genuinely, was wicked, awesome fun. Thanks Jessica, Nikki, Kyle, Simon and Cameron for making Red Rock Relay Zion 2012 such a memorable experience. 


"We just showered."
"Yeah, but who doesn't like a good WIPE?!" -Simon

"Truck, YEAH!"
"I'm WIDE AWAKE!" -Kyle

"Is Jessica doing OK?"
"Well, she asked for an AK-47, so I'm not sure she's in the right mental state. Because you don't shoot yourself with an AK-47." -Elizabeth

"If it makes you feel any better, I just had to crap in the woods and I think some people saw me." -Jessica

"Nice job, Jessica." -Cameron, after Jess went potty in the woods.



Team Tortoise at the start line.

Nikki and Jessica are kinda violent. 

Da boyz. (Simon, Kyle and Cameron)

On our "van" with the clouds rolling in. 

Jessica, flying up her first leg of the race.

Kyle had 14 kills (he passed 14 people) on his first leg. 

Nikki was showing me how to do the Reject.

Simon was probably yelling, "I'm gonna kill her!"

Jessica ... is scary. 

My pre-race photo. Yes, I probably did have to go to the bathroom.

"Da-Har!" Simon handing off to me.

Cameron's pre-race photo. 

Me, almost done with my first leg. 

Nikki was really enjoying hitting Jessica's back, trying to break up the mucus and junk in her lungs. 

Jessica and me

Day 2, Cameron, Jess and Nikki

My shirt. (Yes, that's a dead hare.) 

[Pretend there are a bunch of pictures of our night runs. I ran 5.2 miles through the supposedly haunted Mountain Meadows area at 2 a.m. No ghost sightings though.]

Cameron getting some well deserved water.

I had just finished my third, and last, leg. Hallelujah!
Jess, Kyle and me.

The team, all done and ready to go home.
(This is at Zion National Park.) 

The Sun Van, biting our medals.

Free snow cones! Cameron and Nikki.

Simon and Jessica

me and Kyle.

Cameron and Kyle fixing the roof rack one last time on the way home. 

The End. 

And most likely, never, ever, again. :)