Archive | February, 2011

Deep, deep thoughts

28 Feb

Dear Annette,

A week ago or so, I went to Dick’s with the intent of buying new Adidas slides, the kind with the hard plastic things and not the soft foam stuff, because that kind always ends up being gross and absorbing nasty things like foot sweat and river water, and then just smelling awful. However, they only had the ukky foam kind, so instead I went to look at running clothes. And for some reason, the running clothes for this upcoming spring are both highly functional and highly cute. I could literally see myself going for a jog in the shorts and a dry-fit shirt, and then going home and putting on a cute running jacket and maybe some longer running shorts, and then going to class, looking off the chain, and then going to work, changing into that amazingly transparent tanktop uniform, and then jogging home. Functional and cute.

The best part was how much they inspired me to actually start training more. They brought back nostalgic memories of old track teams and cross country adventures, how Marissa and Betsy would always try to get me to wear the skimpiest outfits ever, and how one day, when I did finally show up in short shorts and a sports bra, they thought I was playing a prank on them. I swore to myself that if I had these sweet clothes, I would run more and run faster, because I would just look so good that all of that positive energy would somehow work it’s way into my feet and propel me forwards.

I looked at the price tags, and then a reality check hit me. $55 for a pair of shorts? Yeah, right.

I then felt bitter. How dare those Nike executives put these excessive prices between me and my Olympic dream! I decided to write a blog post about a variety of insightful things based off of this experience. In it, I was going to include things like:

1. Flashy clothes don’t make the runner – the runner makes those clothes fast and impressive, because the runner is fast and has mad skills.

2. Thoughts about the Adidas slides. Something about how, while the cushy stuff is more comfortable at first, in the end, it just festers with nasty. Something about deceptive appearances, things too good to be true – you know, all of that jazz.

3. Am I still going to be a fan of bright orange, pink, and green shorts and turquoise tanks and flashy jackets when I’m older and more refined? Was it a wise investment? (As soon as I typed this rhetorical question, I immediately said to myself, well, duh. I’m Elisabeth Hieber. Am I not going to be a fan of bright orange, pink, and green shorts when I’m older and more refined?!)

However, I’m not feeling deep, insightful, or reflective today. And I realize those are all synonyms.

I mean, on a level, I sure am having those wonderful intrinsic thoughts, am carefully considering how these things would fit into my budget, and am perfectly content with the soccer shorts and old t-shirts that are relics of my previous athletic life.


But today, let’s be straight; I just want the clothes.


Here’s to keeping it real!



P.S. – I found some sweet music recently that you might enjoy.

Chappo – Come Home

Broadcast 2000 – Get Up And Go

Your Song – Ellie Goulding






Things that happened

25 Feb

Dear Annette,

As you know, these last few days have been just a tad rough around the edges. You know me – I am pretty notorious for trying to avoid certain conflicts by any means possible. Even though this inevitably leads to more conflicts. Even though, rationally, I know that just confronting the issue will always prevail, because it’s better to just resolve everything, as opposed to letting it fester.

I find myself at odds with myself. I call it a personal paradox, because I am a sucker for alliteration. Some days I feel like conquering the world – it’s on these days that I update my resume, do calculus homework dutifully until every answer is correct, call local vet clinics, apply for summer jobs, run in pretty places. Equally and oppositely, I have days where I feel like the world is conquering me – this is where I sit in the library and stare into space, because I feel like the concrete ceiling is going to fall right on my head, I just want to sleep but I can’t, I run in not-so-pretty places because sometimes I feel like the danger will get me to feel something other than nothing. I mean, every person has their ups and downs. And who I am to complain about mine all of the time? There is a part of me that hates all of the thought I give to this, and alternately, there is a part of me that cannot help but do it.

The result is conflict with the very person I have to spend time with 24 hours a day. Something I do not like to deal with immediately, because the hurt and confusing feelings are lame, and I do not just give them enough time to work out.


So I look for distractions. Here are some things that have happened this week.


I took a lot of pictures. This is a view from Mt. Adams of the Dan C. Beard Bridge. On our longest rows, we would row almost right up to this thing on the Ohio River. We would sometimes call it the Big Mac Bridge, because of the literal golden arches. Haha.

This is what my room looks like from my pillow. I liked the things on the windowsill – I think that is a tissue from a nosebleed (ps – my medicine causes swollen sinuses. The mystery of the super-frequent nosebleeds = solved!). That is a cup with leaves. And that is Carlita the cactus, upon whom I nearly planted my face due to my devastating clumsiness. That is Edward the guitar (named in 2005, WAY before I knew Twilight existed, so there.). And those are books that I planned on reading, but I just could not focus enough to get it done.

Have you ever held a bowl full of goldfish?! The sad thing is that these fish are dinner for Dribble the turtle, the newest edition to my 2313 W Clifton family. He can eat up to a dozen goldfish a day. A dozen! Sadly, I actually do not have a picture of Dribble – just know that he is green and about the size of a plate. And cute. Also, I like that goldfish are orange and not actually gold, because orange is by far the most wonderful color around.


I went to Joe’s Diner with Audra and Leslie. Joe’s is radical. When you come to Cincinnati after you steal the IROC-Z, we will have to go to Joe’s, because you will love it. Two main things happened there – I had the best milkshake ever, and we staged a showdown between the condiments and the Pepsi, which I artistically put faces on using napkins and condensation. The Pepsi won this battle against the salt (he was assaulted), but the super condiments won the war.


Salty Dog Root Beer is the best root beer I have ever tasted. I chose it because of the dog, of course, and I was surprised by it’s amazingness. If you ever find yourself trying to choose between unique root beers, go for this one for sure.


Next, I decided to cook. Not bake this time, but actually cook something with nutritional value. I made tom ka gai, which is Thai coconut chicken soup with bok choy and cilantro. It turned out so good. If there was a way to get this to you, I definitely would. Let me summon the Pony Express – they might deliver full meals, you never know.


This is bok choy! I had never cooked with it/eaten it/seen it before yesterday, but you best believe I shredded it successfully. It made me feel good about myself.


This was the final product!

And this was desert! Bananas cooked in a wok with brown sugar, lime juice, and sesame seeds (which I tried to toast, melted two spatulas, and then just settled for the untoasted variety).

The good news is that today, I finally feel better. I don’t feel the cement-ceiling-is-about-to-collapse angst, and I don’t feel so intensely good that it feels like my atoms will split apart unless I do something epic just right now. I feel like the conflicts amongst me, my mind, and my body are finally taking some time off. I don’t feel like Elisabeast, but I don’t feel like Elisa-not-so-beast either. I’m just Elisabeth, bok choy shredder extraordinaire, and I’m alright with that.


Onward and upward,




Deep, Dark Confession

18 Feb

Dear Elisabeth,

Sometimes I crack and buy brown sugar cinnamon pop-tarts from the vending machine.

And I don’t feel bad about the fact that I am not buying the apples that are always RIGHT NEXT TO the pop-tarts.

I had to tell someone…




She beat me to it…again

16 Feb

Dear Universe,

Indulge me while I gush about my best friend Elisabeth Marie Hieber on the eve of her 20th birthday.

She is 2 decades old.  She did it just a couple weeks before I will turn 20 myself.  But that is just how it is with Elisabeth.  She is always ahead of me.  She always gives the best, most thoughtful, most elaborate, most personal gifts, and always on time.  She is always the first one to make a good joke.  She is always the first one to laugh.  She is always the first to call or text when something crazy/awesome happens.  I wish I could be as good as her, that I could maybe catch up one day.  But I also love always having her in front of me so I can continually have her beautiful example to follow and emulate.  I realized long ago that would never really be able to ‘catch up.’

You know, a story from Church History has been on my mind a lot recently.  Parley P. Pratt was a truly passionate missionary.  He was strong and he believed.  He baptized many people, one of them named John Taylor (THE John Taylor).  John had been prepared for the gospel his whole life–he was ready to hear it and Parley was able to speak up about it.  John became a spiritual giant.  A few years later, there were trials for the budding Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and many leaders and members fell away–including Parley.  When John Taylor heard this news, he traveled hundreds of miles to where Parley was and reminded him of the truth.  He reminded him what he already knew.  He reminded him what was important

I am not saying that I brought Elisabeth to the church–she came herself, I really can take no credit at all.  She was prepared and ready for the gospel when she found it.  I am not saying I was as a strong and passionate missionary as Parley P. Pratt.  I am not saying that I have apostisized and fell away as Parley did in his dark days.  But what I AM saying is that Elisabeth has strengthened me in the gospel more than she or anyone will ever know and will always do so.  I am blessed to have such a strong foundation to lean on in Elisabeth.  She will find me in my dark days and remind me what is important.  Because she knows.

Elisabeth is passion and hope and power.  Everything she does, she does with her whole self.  I have observed her for nearly 6 years now.  Sometimes it makes me exhausted to watch her accomplish anything and everything, but mostly it just makes me proud.  She has trials.  She has road blocks and speed bumps.  She has harder times than I have ever had.  She eveb has hard times to come.  But she doesn’t slow down and she takes any obstacle full on, with no fear.  Oh, that we all could be more like Elisabeth–the world’s problems would be solved.

My role model? Elisabeth.  My Hero? Elisabeth.  My inspiration? Elisaebth.


My best friend, even though I am sure I don’t deserve to be so blessed? Elisabeth.  Of course!


So anyway world, I love, admire and respect Elisabeth Marie Hieber.   I want to wish her a happy birthday.  I want her life to be full of the sweetness and pleastantness she deserves.



I want Lucky Charms.

8 Feb

Dear Dope Ice,

I hope you remember that nickname – otherwise, I’m probably coming across as super duper weird. But whatever. I have no shame!

I feel lame putting this post over your last one – it was so cheerful, highlights your awesomeness, and I was digging the boyfriend/Usher comparison. This post is going to be laced with certain dreariness and sardonic humor, as that reflects my life right now.

Today is a downer day. Yesterday was a downer day. The worst part is that I can’t really put my finger on the exact reason, but I think it has to do with my sensitivity to the social injustice of the world, the fact that I can’t stop thinking about poaching elephants and how lame that is, and my inability to revive the spirit of a proper Elisabeast. If I were to pick a word to describe this particular brand of despair, I would probably pick crippling. After sitting in my room in the dark for an hour, feeling a lot like Paul Sheldon in Misery, after his car crash and subsequent drugging, I came to realize that it wasn’t me that was in a horrible car accident, and that I was not semi-conscious under the influence of Novril, and that maybe writing something about it would make me feel better.

So let me get it out. I’m really disappointed in myself. 9 more days until I’m 20. According to my personal agenda, I haven’t done anything as scheduled. I was supposed to: 1. Be going to the Olympics next year. 2. Have written my life memoirs in poetry form. 3. Had a perfect GPA. 4. Have finished Gone With The Wind. 5. Taken over the whole world with common sense, rationality, and compassion for our fellow countrymen. Now, I realize these are pretty much almost impossible/really difficult tasks, and I’m using some major hyperbole here for dramatic effect, but growing up, I deluded myself into thinking that these things and were as attainable as having Lucky Charms for breakfast. You just have to want it badly enough.

Big sigh. It isn’t true. Throw in some major speedbumps, and you have a big, complicated mess on your hands, complete with raging depression, frustration, and an F in sophomore English. I’m struggling to come up with the tenacity I used to have, the refusal to quit, the need to help the planet and every animal in it. I need more help than I can give, and at night when I’m awake and alone with my thoughts, I completely fall apart.

I need cheerful, and I cannot come up with enough of it to climb out of this hole.

So here is my plan. Because you are definitely the more studious one of us, and I am really good at slacking off the amount I could have in high school, but never did, and now I am catching up, I think you should be the one to discover how teleportation works. Then, you can teach me how to do it via Skype, and then I will teleport to your hood.

Then, around your ultra busy schedule (I might make you drink Dr. Pepper so you can spend your usual sleeping time with a sleepless me), we will watch this movie:

We will eat this:

We will talk about this guy:

And we will talk about this guy (I picked this picture because of the sea gull, which is one of my most favorite birds ever!):

We will listen this song:

And we will eat a ton of this ice cream:

Catch you on the flip side,



Fa la la la LAAAA!!!!!!

7 Feb

Dear Lizbef,

I am woefully behind at keeping you updated.  In a sentence: I am researching all day for my projects in Africa, I am researching all day for my fellowship in DC, I am studying all day so I can pass my classes, I am reading all day so I can write my papers, and I am working all day because I got a promotion and I am now Dr. Hegstrom’s Administrative Assistant and I have a bajillion and one things to do.  Now, if you do the math, you will probably come to the same conclusion I have come to–namely, that I don’t have time for anything really.

Especially when you add to the mix that I spend all day day-dreaming about my super wonderful boyfriend.  Which is why I wanted to finally write you this letter (uh…blogpost)–since it is one of the bullet points in your job-description of being my best friend that we get to gush about our boys to each other all we want in addition to other subjects such as global politics and the woes of chemistry.

I just wanted to point out that today as I was watching the half-time show of the Super Bowl I realized that Usher (pictured below)

is ALMOST as attractive as the Mega-Hot Evan Moss.

Hubba Hubba

Actually, Usher doesn’t really come that close at all now that I think about it….


so anyway, I promise to call you soon.  Probably in the next couple days cuz I REALLY need to laundry since I am beginning to have to steal Mary Ann’s socks and doing laundry is a dull job made much more pleasant by stimulating and intelligent conversation with my favorite brunette east of the Mississippi.

Later Tater,