Single.

For those of you who don't know, I have moved in with my grandparents. I moved up here mostly for a change. It's basically a long story, but it boils down to the fact that I need something new. I love being home and with my family, but I wasn't doing anything there. So, on a Wednesday we called my grandma and on Sunday I drove up. It happened quickly, but it has been a good decision so far.

Anyway, the Sunday I drove up Grandma went to my aunt's ward to hear my cousin play the piano. While there she sat next to a "good looking returned missionary who would be delighted to take me to the singles ward next week."

I planned on going to church with this guy, whoever he is, but things fell through. Awkwardly. I'll spare you the details on everyone's lack of communication, but either way I ended up going to the singles ward with my 13 year old cousin.

I've never been good at getting anywhere on time. So when getting ready for church this morning, I made sure I had plenty of time to drive to the building about fifteen or so minutes away and possibly even stop by my aunt's house on the way. I picked up my cousin and we made it to the building fifteen minutes before sacrament meeting started.

We took our time getting into the building, returning to the car for a piece of gum, going in to the bathroom, and finally choosing a seat in the chapel. The very empty chapel. In fact, other than us there was just one other lady. She obviously wasn't a single, so I just assumed she was from the previous ward.

When one rolled around and still no one was there, we got really confused. The lady approached us and asked if she was in the right place. We didn't even know if we were in the right place. After about ten minutes of confusion, we discovered that the ward had met with another singles ward for a special pioneer sacrament meeting of some sort.

Good news: I'm not the only single left out there.

Bad news: I missed out on church this weekend.

Lesson learned: When you have the opportunity to go to church with a "good looking returned missionary who would be delighted to take you," you darn well better take it. Otherwise, you may be left alone thinking you're the only surviving LDS single.

Dreams

We've all imagined how our lives would turn out. Well, I know I have. Personally I've spent many hours day dreaming about how I'll be rich, or I'll be an adventurer, or how I'll just live in a small house with millions of cats, or even that I'll finally learn to travel through time and live with the dinosaurs.  The problem is, until I get up off of my lazy tush, they're just dreams. How many people out there actually end up doing the thing they dreamed of their entire lives? Or better yet, have a job that actually fits with what they went to school for?

I've often heard stories of people who dreamed of becoming this or that but somehow they ended up on a different path. Now, the path they ended up on worked out for them, they are happy. But, when hearing the stories, peeking out from behind their eyes is a look of disappointment and hope. They wish they would have gone after their dreams, and maybe part of them still has hope that things will work out the way they had always imagined. 

Almost two months ago, I got a call for a job interview. It wasn't an ideal job. I'd be driving 40 minutes to and from each day, working little hours, and it wasn't anything spectacular or glamorous. But after spending hours applying for jobs, I was happy to finally have an interview. And I thought my parents would have the same feeling. They were happy, but my dad sat me down for a "lecture" that night. 

Dad explained to me that I have options. I needed to decide if I wanted a job, or if I wanted to work towards a career and get on a path. He wasn't lecturing, more like guiding in a loving way, letting me know that no matter what I did with my life, he would still support me. The problem was that I didn't know what kind of path I wanted to be on. All I knew was that I needed money and I needed to be doing SOMETHING with my time.

I went in for the interview with a pessimistic attitude. Not in the sense that I wouldn't get the job, but in the sense that I would get the job and not know what to do about it. I'm not one who likes making decisions. Before I talked to my dad, whether I took the job relied solely on whether or not they gave it to me. But he pointed out that I have to, at some point, decide what I want to do with my life and that I should try harder to take a job that has some relation to some thing I may be somewhat interested in someday.

I had two interviews. Both started out with the interviewer giving me a brief history of their experience with the store. The first one said she had gotten a job after going to a little bit of college and has stuck with it for two years. The second had been there many years and was now a single mother. I realized I didn't want to be sucked into that trap. The trap of sticking with something just for the security of it.

I drove home with a determination to make my dreams come true. Even if I'm not sure what they are yet, I'm going to find out and I'm not going to give up. I don't want to be an old cat lady luring strangers into my home to talk about how I could have been something. Because I can be something now. The only thing standing in my way is me. 

It's Magic!

The following story is absolutely true.

Mitchell, Mom, and I were sitting at the table eating a positively healthy dinner of hot dogs and mandarin oranges. As the meal was coming to an end, Mom looked over at Mitchell's plate and said, "What on earth do you think you're doing?" He had poured his glass of water onto his plate so it was barely not spilling over.

"Nothing!" He responded.

"Mitchell," my mom wasn't happy. "Sorine just cleaned the floors. If you spill any of that you will have to clean it up."

"MOM!" he stood up. "I'm doing a magic trick! If you would pay any attention to my life you would know that I'm becoming a magician."

Mitchell then performed a delightful magic trick using a candle, a piece of hot dog, his cup, and some matches. Needless to say, my little brother is becoming a magician. And we would have known months ago had we simply paid more attention to his life.

The end.

When I grow up

There is a question we've all been asked since the time we could talk in complete sentences. It is the one question just about everyone you come in contact with wants to know the answer to. Problem is, it doesn't always have an answer. When I was little I always waited excitedly for someone to ask it. Now, I dread it. The ominous question - What do you want to be when  you grow up?

I've given so many answers it isn't even funny. Sure, when I was eight it was cute to hear me say I wanted to grow up and be a tight rope walker. But if I were to say that now... I can just imagine... "So, Sorine, tell us. What are you majoring in?" "Oh, try not to be intimidated or anything, but I'm majoring in Circus Performance with an emphasis in the Tight Rope." 

There are different versions of this question. One example, most common in the college world, is the one used above. What's your major. You'd think this one would be easier, after all, it is a bit broader and by the time you start hearing it you've had some experience to narrow down your choices. However, I have had an even harder time coming up with an answer to this one. 

For a while, I got angrier and angrier whenever the words "what's your major?" were directed towards me. I've always been very indecisive and when it comes to MAJOR decisions, I just can't make up my mind. It doesn't help that my interests are so scattered. 

I thought I had come up with the perfect solution. Not only did it solve my major problem, but also Julia's. "What's your major?" someone would ask. I'd smile politely and respond with "I'm majoring in Dinosaur and the becoming thereof. Julia will be my guinea pig." It was perfect. Once  I mastered becoming a dinosaur I could trample where I please and eventually take over the world. 

Unfortunately, that didn't pan out. At least at the schools I've looked into, no one offers classes on how to become a prehistoric reptile. Although I personally think it should be a required course. After all, who knows when dinosaurs will come back. And the only way we can survive is to become a part of them... subject for another blog another day. 

So, as generic, pathetic and lame as it may be, my response is always "I'm just doing my generals for now, but I'm thinking of [insert interest of the day here]." I don't enjoy the look of disappointment that often follows. But hey, I'm only twenty. I have time to to really think about it before an official decision needs to be made. 

Let's just hope someone doesn't hold a gun to my head and say "What do you want to be when you grow up? Answer or you become brain pudding." 

Truth is...

I'm very attracted to red heads.

I'm not really a big fan of tacos.

Once in a while, I'll pretend to be a dinosaur when I'm eating my food.

Okay, not once in a while. I pretend to be a dinosaur probably more often than I should.

And to be honest, I pretended to be a dinosaur while eating a chicken sandwich in my prom dress at Wendy's.

I was once hit in the face with a kayak.

I broke my arm when I was two. I fell off the piano bench and landed in a basket of laundry.

I think I'm funny.

I do the macarena quietly at the most random moments.

I don't know how tall I am. And I think I'll keep it that way.

I always remember at least a small detail of my dreams.

Never Been Kissed is the story of my life.

John Cusack is my favorite.

I could spend all day watching movies and be happy.

I really like myself. :)

Being a Goodworth :)

Spending time away from my family and with other people has helped teach me how strange the Goodworth family really is. What I found to be normal, other people thought me crazy for doing. Like I talked about here, I'm so glad I'm a party of this family. I absolutely LOVE being a Goodworth. I've noticed, lately, that it takes a lot to be a Goodworth and there are a few qualities that EVERY Goodworth has, whether they like it or not.

1. Every Goodworth thinks they are funny.
Yes. This is a big one. When you are in a room with my family you can't help but notice when someone thinks they are funny. Everyone has their own way of covering up their snickers before they tell a joke. My roommates and friends have often caught me trying not to laugh before I say something I think is funny.

2. We laugh even if no one else laughs.
This continues off of the first one. If we think we are funny, we laugh. I'll admit it, I'm often the only one laughing at my jokes.

3. We talk over each other, but somehow still manage to listen.
Prime example from earlier today:

Mitchell: I hit a bird the other day.
Me: That's depressing.
Mitchell: Yeah, it was bad.
Me: I hit a bird once.
Mitchell: The guts were all over the window.
Me: It flew away.
Mitchell: It didn't fly away.

4. We get crazy and don't make any sense whatsoever, but we understand one another.
The only way I can explain this is through this post Julia, Spencer and I made a while back. Read it. We think we're funny. :)

5. We stink...or at least think we do.
Read the end of this post. It says it says it all. One of my favorite family moments. :)

Okay, I know this just kept sending you to previous things I've written, but hey, I enjoy writing about my family. Seriously, I've never met anyone who hates the Goodworth family. Whether you think we're funny or not, you can't deny that we are entertaining. :)

That is the one thing about being a Goodworth that I can never get enough of. We don't have a filter. Unlike other people, we do the first thing that comes into our minds - throwing scriptures in the car, log rolling to the kitchen, dancing and singing about bananas - we don't care if we look ridiculous, we care if we're happy.

If you haven't heard me say it before, I absolutely, positively, 100% love being a Goodworth. :)

What I wish I could say...

I never felt like we were truly friends. I've always been there for you, even when you didn't want me there. Yet  you haven't been there for me lately and I really needed you. No matter what I do it isn't good enough. It's been a one sided friendship all along and I honestly don't know why I've stuck with it.

I've always been overlooked. And I trusted you with my deepest feelings and thoughts. But I don't think you really cared. And now even you're overlooking me.

You're a jerk. That's all there is to it.

You're the best friend I've ever had. When I say we'll be friends forever, I actually mean it. As cheesy and lame as that may sound. Thanks for eating the crazy, unhealthy food combinations with me and for listening to me ramble and rant over the smallest things.

Even after I yelled in your ear when we were five, you stayed my friend. And I'm so grateful for that. You've seen me happy, sad, angry, anxious and everywhere in between. You better still be around to see me attempting to run through sprinklers when my thighs don't work.

I feel like you used me. And now that I can't help you get the girls you want, you find no point in our friendships. I understand. Actually, I don't. But whatever, I'll get over it.

I don't like it when people don't like me. I'll do just about everything I can to keep a friendship. But I don't even know what else to try with you.

You're welcome for all the free food.

Thanks for trying. It really made a difference.

I'm sorry for the way I handled things. I wish I could go back and change it all. Thanks for still putting up with me and wanting to be my friend. And even though it'd be hilarious if you did, it probably isn't the best idea to send him a fish and gross rabbit hair.

Just be honest with me.

I miss you. More than anything. I still feel responsible for what happened, and SO guilty. Please forgive me. I'm doing my best, trying to anyway. There is no way I could ever live up to what you could have become.

I'm worried about you. I want to support you, but it's getting to the point where I don't know what to do anymore.

Quit hiding. Take responsibility for you're life and actually do something.

I know. I don't know if'it's still going on, and I don't want to know. But please understand that I'm here for you no matter what.

I've always looked up to you. I never understood how you could easily hide all your cares, fears, worries and just listen. I wish I would have done the same for you.

You make me laugh. Harder than anyone out there. Don't ever doubt yourself because you really are outstanding.

You amaze me. The way that you don't care what anyone thinks, how you don't ever judge or talk harshly, how your one hundred percent yourself. I admire that.

You are stronger than you think you are.

Life is hard. And we all have different taste buds.

Thank you for making me who I am.