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. :)