I'm lying here in bed, wrapped up in my new fuzzy pink blanket, with my rice bag warming my back, and thinking to myself, "Self - what is worse than a headcold?" Ooh. That's tough to beat. I was talking to my boss today about headcolds. I made the following observation: "Migraines I can handle. Stomach flu I can handle. Other types of pain that come once a month I can handle. But headcolds? Forget it. Those knock me down, out, flat on my back, begging for mercy." I can't stand headcolds. I mean, you get all stuffed up to where when you say, "Good Morning, Mom!" it comes out a sorry "Good bornin, bob." Then you blow your nose. A thousand times. And your nose suddenly becomes the reason why Santa's recruiters are on the phone, asking for your availability on Christmas Eve and if you are terrified of heights. Oh, yes. Crying is nothing compared to the redness my nose exhibits when it gets all stuffed up. And then there's the fuzzy head. Not like a Chia Head fuzzy, but you feel like you're floating in a very funny, not quite-so-real cloud of existence. And you know that no one else is. And then your eyes feel like they each have forty-two bricks on them, so it's a struggle just to keep them open every minute of the day. And so you take Nyquil. Or Dayquil. Or Theraflu. Or my Grandma's Indian Tonic juice thing (oh my heavens, it consists of the following: sugar-free apple cider - hot - with tabasco sauce, minced garlic, pepper flakes, paprika, cumin, lemon juice...it burns everything you have in your body, so it should burn out the infected cells. At least that's my Grams' logic). But headcolds are stubborn and never go away in a timely fashion. They hang on and make you have 4 ugly days in a row. Oof.
And so, bloggers - I ask you:
What is worse than a headcold?????
Here are some things I came up with:
1 - The writer's guild strike. I'm sorry. Kiss and make up so that we can get back to our nighttime entertainment routines!
2- Black ice on roads while it's snowing. *shudder*
3- Single's Ward Dating Surveys (see below entry for further horrifying details)
4- Gerard Butler dying in yet another film
5- Getting rejected from all my PhD programs! Don't even go there....
6- Turning 25. Once again, enough said.
7- Having to plan your high school reunions. I'm sorry, but that's just not gonna happen!
8- Having the headcold on a Friday night. When you have to write your admissions essay.
9- Being the last one at work on Friday because you are on hourly pay - and they are not.
10 -Brussell sprouts. Ew. Ew. Ew. Ew. EW.
11 - Microsoft Word's Autoformatter. DEVIL FEATURE!!!!
K - your turn!
Friday, December 14, 2007
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
Other Random Thoughts
See, this is what happens. I don't blog. And then I do. And then I have a gazillion and a half things to say. So let's jump right back in where I left off last night:
--I was forced (yes, forced. I even asked if I would be forced. And the answer was in the affirmative. Grrrrrr) to fill out a Singles Dating Survey created by our Elders Quorum Presidency (I think they lost their brains this past month). In church. Why? Their reason: to build ward unity. The real reason: they want to encourage dating, and so they were/are going to pair people up based on their survey results. To go out with the bishopbric members. Ha. Good luck with me. I was so irritated I filled one out and signed it as the "Disgruntled, Frustrated, Anti-Dating Survey Ward Patron" and addressed it specifically to the makers of the survey. I then was going to fill it out trying to be semi-serious. But I couldn't. The questions did not let me. They included questions such as: "My favorite genera of music is" (and yes, they used that spelling. Obviously they did this written in hieroglyphics and then translated it over because......genera?)...and then the answers were Rascal Flatts, Jessica Simpson, Linkin Park, or something else. COME ON. My favorite "genera" of music is an artist? Try again, kids. My favorite question, though, was "I am preparing for marriage by....1) Learning how to cook. 2) Studying the scriptures 3) Dating 4).....don't remember. GEE WHIZ. I'm preparing for marriage by trying to be the best person I can be and that God wants me to be. Do I need to be doing something else here? Am I crazy? Anyway, the result of me being "serious" on this survey was that I had to write my own answers in, because theirs were just pathetic. Beyond pathetic. Sub-pathetic. And then I got yelled at and then ignored by the EQ First Counselor, because apparently by filling in my own answers, I ruined the survey. Darn. Pity. Crying SHAME. Honestly, though. When did a Single's Ward singlehandedly take it upon themselves to get us hitched with wardies? Hello. You are messing with things you ought not. Feelings could get hurt. It's freakishly insensitive, and COMPLETELY negates the whole chemistry and interest factor. Just because you circle the same answers on a ridiculous quiz does not mean you are a match made in heaven. *Sigh* I've been venting for two weeks and I'm still not over it. I might have to do another blog entry as therapy.--
--I'm decorating our new office building. We're building it right behind our current one and oh boy. I'm the designated design specialist. Have I built something before? No! Not even out of Legos or those log things or anything. But here I am picking out brick colors, roof materials, talking to electrical wiring guys, finding furniture, measuring the architectural drawings, discussing brick layouts on the exterior.... Wow. I knew I should have studied something different in college! I'm just hoping it all turns out pretty and how my boss wants it. That's the big thing!--
--I'm coming down with a cold. This is a recent occurrence, brought on today at about 11:04 am. The head went fuzzy. The nose went stuffy. And tonight is our company Christmas dinner. Joy of all joys.--
--Tucano's. Discovered it. Loved it. Wished I was a guy so that I could tell the cute waiter man that I wanted more garlic parmesean steak, because oh my heavens. GOOD food, that is. But if I were a guy, then he hopefully wouldn't be deemed cute- just the guy who feeds you. Haha. I was never so unhappy at being full. I wanted to keep on eating!!! Next time!!!--
--I had a crisis of character. Well, sort of. So my mom met this guy at BYU - 26, athletic (soccer), dark curly hair, nice guy -- and wanted to set up my reluctant older sister with him, because she thought that he would be her type. My sister was, of course, a little skeptical, and asked why my mother didn't try to set him up with me, because I generally don't care as much. She replied that he was more her type. My mom then asked me what my type was....I drew a blank. Drat! What is my type of guy? I can list off all the guys I wish were real (wait- I HAVE done that) or at least an option for me, but what is my type? For like real guys? Hmmm....suggestions?--
Okay, the time is swiftly approaching where I get to leave work and go home. In other words, it's the best time of day. So, bloggers, I hope this gave you even more mental nonsense to ponder. Until a later date!
--I was forced (yes, forced. I even asked if I would be forced. And the answer was in the affirmative. Grrrrrr) to fill out a Singles Dating Survey created by our Elders Quorum Presidency (I think they lost their brains this past month). In church. Why? Their reason: to build ward unity. The real reason: they want to encourage dating, and so they were/are going to pair people up based on their survey results. To go out with the bishopbric members. Ha. Good luck with me. I was so irritated I filled one out and signed it as the "Disgruntled, Frustrated, Anti-Dating Survey Ward Patron" and addressed it specifically to the makers of the survey. I then was going to fill it out trying to be semi-serious. But I couldn't. The questions did not let me. They included questions such as: "My favorite genera of music is" (and yes, they used that spelling. Obviously they did this written in hieroglyphics and then translated it over because......genera?)...and then the answers were Rascal Flatts, Jessica Simpson, Linkin Park, or something else. COME ON. My favorite "genera" of music is an artist? Try again, kids. My favorite question, though, was "I am preparing for marriage by....1) Learning how to cook. 2) Studying the scriptures 3) Dating 4).....don't remember. GEE WHIZ. I'm preparing for marriage by trying to be the best person I can be and that God wants me to be. Do I need to be doing something else here? Am I crazy? Anyway, the result of me being "serious" on this survey was that I had to write my own answers in, because theirs were just pathetic. Beyond pathetic. Sub-pathetic. And then I got yelled at and then ignored by the EQ First Counselor, because apparently by filling in my own answers, I ruined the survey. Darn. Pity. Crying SHAME. Honestly, though. When did a Single's Ward singlehandedly take it upon themselves to get us hitched with wardies? Hello. You are messing with things you ought not. Feelings could get hurt. It's freakishly insensitive, and COMPLETELY negates the whole chemistry and interest factor. Just because you circle the same answers on a ridiculous quiz does not mean you are a match made in heaven. *Sigh* I've been venting for two weeks and I'm still not over it. I might have to do another blog entry as therapy.--
--I'm decorating our new office building. We're building it right behind our current one and oh boy. I'm the designated design specialist. Have I built something before? No! Not even out of Legos or those log things or anything. But here I am picking out brick colors, roof materials, talking to electrical wiring guys, finding furniture, measuring the architectural drawings, discussing brick layouts on the exterior.... Wow. I knew I should have studied something different in college! I'm just hoping it all turns out pretty and how my boss wants it. That's the big thing!--
--I'm coming down with a cold. This is a recent occurrence, brought on today at about 11:04 am. The head went fuzzy. The nose went stuffy. And tonight is our company Christmas dinner. Joy of all joys.--
--Tucano's. Discovered it. Loved it. Wished I was a guy so that I could tell the cute waiter man that I wanted more garlic parmesean steak, because oh my heavens. GOOD food, that is. But if I were a guy, then he hopefully wouldn't be deemed cute- just the guy who feeds you. Haha. I was never so unhappy at being full. I wanted to keep on eating!!! Next time!!!--
--I had a crisis of character. Well, sort of. So my mom met this guy at BYU - 26, athletic (soccer), dark curly hair, nice guy -- and wanted to set up my reluctant older sister with him, because she thought that he would be her type. My sister was, of course, a little skeptical, and asked why my mother didn't try to set him up with me, because I generally don't care as much. She replied that he was more her type. My mom then asked me what my type was....I drew a blank. Drat! What is my type of guy? I can list off all the guys I wish were real (wait- I HAVE done that) or at least an option for me, but what is my type? For like real guys? Hmmm....suggestions?--
Okay, the time is swiftly approaching where I get to leave work and go home. In other words, it's the best time of day. So, bloggers, I hope this gave you even more mental nonsense to ponder. Until a later date!
Shamefully Late Entry
Okay, most of you probably have stopped checking my blog, because......well..........life has happened since that last blog. Nothing major. Just life. To the point where at night, I think to myself - blog? or sleep? And you can guess which option won out every time. And so, after receiving numerous, uh, suggestions (that's putting it nicely), I will post SOMETHING until I can do a proper blog, just so that when you do check in with my wacky world of weirdness, you aren't confronted with my face everytime.
So, let's recap the last six weeks or so - (more in depth analyses to follow)
--I turned 25. Enough said.--
--I distributed all my application materials to professors and paid extraordinary amounts of money to be able to get the priviledge of having schools consider me as a possible applicant. Not fun for the check book.--
--I narrowed my schools down to the following choices: (arranged in order of wishful thinking of I will get accepted)
1- University of Arizona
2- York University
3- Penn State
4- University of Wisconsin-Madison
5- University of Utah
No, no BYU on that list. I've been there, done that, and moved on. So it's on to different states (or even countries!) this time. Wahoo! I've been singing the song "Defying Gravity" from Wicked to give me courage, particularly the part where Elphaba sings - "And nobody in all of Oz, no wizard that there is or was is ever gonna bring me down." It's my mantra these days. --
--I discovered the Wicked soundtrack. Oh fun. Serious fun. I love good musicals and this one is swiftly becoming a favorite. Now if it would only get to Salt Lake City in a timely fashion! Until then, you can find me Mondays-Fridays 7:30-7:53 in the morning and 5:00-5:24 in the afternoons jamming to Elphaba and Co. on my way to and from work.--
--I saw Ryan Shupe and the Rubberband perform live and up close and personal. Can I just say they rock? The devil can take me down to Georgia anytime he wants, as long as they fiddle down there with me.--
--I'm singing in two Christmas choirs. Not of my own free will. More of an obligation. With your mother putting the stake choir together and your ward choir begging people every Sunday, I gave into the moral obligatory pressure and accepted my fate to be a minstral this holiday season.--
--I sang the words "We can be together forever someday" five times, while holding the hand of the person next to me. Sadly, it wasn't Gregory Smith or Dean, but, until they become real and want to date me, HRH will do just fine. She knows what I'm talking about.--
--I've seen Enchanted 3 times. Okay, how sad is it that I get my kicks out of a Princess story? And just wish that just ONE of those guys would somehow stumble across my path. But, such is life, and so I'll just continue singing my own version of "I've been waiting for a true love's....."--
--I bought a pair of red ballet flats. Can I just say how empowering red shoes can make a female feel? Honestly, I should buy five more pair! Especially now that I have a red pea coat to match them!--
--I drove down to St. George with two ex-Elder friends to see an ex-Hermana get married. Wow. That was weird. Her being all married-like with a guy, and me in a car with two 21 year olds for six hours in a twelve-hour period. AUGH!!!!!!!!! But I did make record time. Wonder why....--
--I saw "El Regalo de Navidad" - the Latino Christmas program in the Salt Lake tabernacle. Wicked awesome having everyone speak Spanish. Couldn't understand anything in the music, but, it was the ambiance that made it special. But then we had to drive home in a blizzard. Not so fun. I've decided snow freaks me out when it sticks to the road and makes my car have a mind of its own. Nope, I like it when it stays on the grass and trees. Too bad you can't program snow. Hmmmmmmmmm..........--
Okay, I'm getting the fuzzy head feeling, so, I will go into detail about some of these things, but suffice it to say, I'm alive. Well-ish. And trying to move my life forward, via college apps, red shoes, and "Wicked" good music. Till then, bloggers, take care!
So, let's recap the last six weeks or so - (more in depth analyses to follow)
--I turned 25. Enough said.--
--I distributed all my application materials to professors and paid extraordinary amounts of money to be able to get the priviledge of having schools consider me as a possible applicant. Not fun for the check book.--
--I narrowed my schools down to the following choices: (arranged in order of wishful thinking of I will get accepted)
1- University of Arizona
2- York University
3- Penn State
4- University of Wisconsin-Madison
5- University of Utah
No, no BYU on that list. I've been there, done that, and moved on. So it's on to different states (or even countries!) this time. Wahoo! I've been singing the song "Defying Gravity" from Wicked to give me courage, particularly the part where Elphaba sings - "And nobody in all of Oz, no wizard that there is or was is ever gonna bring me down." It's my mantra these days. --
--I discovered the Wicked soundtrack. Oh fun. Serious fun. I love good musicals and this one is swiftly becoming a favorite. Now if it would only get to Salt Lake City in a timely fashion! Until then, you can find me Mondays-Fridays 7:30-7:53 in the morning and 5:00-5:24 in the afternoons jamming to Elphaba and Co. on my way to and from work.--
--I saw Ryan Shupe and the Rubberband perform live and up close and personal. Can I just say they rock? The devil can take me down to Georgia anytime he wants, as long as they fiddle down there with me.--
--I'm singing in two Christmas choirs. Not of my own free will. More of an obligation. With your mother putting the stake choir together and your ward choir begging people every Sunday, I gave into the moral obligatory pressure and accepted my fate to be a minstral this holiday season.--
--I sang the words "We can be together forever someday" five times, while holding the hand of the person next to me. Sadly, it wasn't Gregory Smith or Dean, but, until they become real and want to date me, HRH will do just fine. She knows what I'm talking about.--
--I've seen Enchanted 3 times. Okay, how sad is it that I get my kicks out of a Princess story? And just wish that just ONE of those guys would somehow stumble across my path. But, such is life, and so I'll just continue singing my own version of "I've been waiting for a true love's....."--
--I bought a pair of red ballet flats. Can I just say how empowering red shoes can make a female feel? Honestly, I should buy five more pair! Especially now that I have a red pea coat to match them!--
--I drove down to St. George with two ex-Elder friends to see an ex-Hermana get married. Wow. That was weird. Her being all married-like with a guy, and me in a car with two 21 year olds for six hours in a twelve-hour period. AUGH!!!!!!!!! But I did make record time. Wonder why....--
--I saw "El Regalo de Navidad" - the Latino Christmas program in the Salt Lake tabernacle. Wicked awesome having everyone speak Spanish. Couldn't understand anything in the music, but, it was the ambiance that made it special. But then we had to drive home in a blizzard. Not so fun. I've decided snow freaks me out when it sticks to the road and makes my car have a mind of its own. Nope, I like it when it stays on the grass and trees. Too bad you can't program snow. Hmmmmmmmmm..........--
Okay, I'm getting the fuzzy head feeling, so, I will go into detail about some of these things, but suffice it to say, I'm alive. Well-ish. And trying to move my life forward, via college apps, red shoes, and "Wicked" good music. Till then, bloggers, take care!
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
The New 'Do
Happy Halloween to all! And to blog something that will truly scare the kiddies tonight, I give you my new 'do. Taken at my office, by my boss, without my consent. And this is why I shun photos!
BOO!!!
Friday, October 26, 2007
Now What?
WHERE IS MY JIM WHEN I NEED TO BE ENTERTAINED AT THE OFFICE???Another week has gone by. You know, try as I might, I struggle blogging consistently. I think I’m a feaster or faminer….note to self – put this on the list for Self-Improvements of 2008: be consistent in all your pursuits! But, here I am. Half of the office is either out sick or out of the country, so I’m contemplating whether to prepare my lesson for Sunday or to blog. Obviously, blogging won.
Thanks for the words of encouragement about the GMAT. All three of you who read my blog probably know that I didn’t do so well. At least not as well as I had hoped or imagined. And I don’t know if I did well enough to get into my PhD programs I’m targeting. But we’ll see. I at least did well enough on the verbal that colleges interested in applicants who can write well may not be deterred by my horrifically substandard math score. *crossing the fingers!* I was a little…okay….a LOT….disappointed and heart-bruised on Saturday after taking it. But, you know, after a few hours of crying and watching whatever I could find on TV and making banana bread (the perfect therapeutic food – nothing beats beating up bananas and making KILLER dough), I realized that maybe this is going to be a trial of my faith. It would require no faith if I did amazingly on the GMAT, - just apply and poof. Because I didn’t, it’s time to trust that this is all for the greater good and that something will work out. I’m hoping. So now it’s time to write essays, pay atrocious application fees, and wait. These might be some REALLY long months ahead.
Onto brighter topics- I’m going 4-wheeling on Saturday! I am so excited! My GMAT class has prevented me from going this past month and a half, and I was afraid that I was going to be unable to go again until next year. Now how sad would that have been. Happily, 60+ degree sunny weather is perfect for a 4-wheeling jaunt in the desert or mountains. Hooray! Nothing clears the mind so well as being reckless in a controlled fashion surrounded by nature. I have to admit, I do get scared sometimes following my fearless father onto paths that really aren’t paths (there was a mountain ridgeline incident once….I still can’t believe I did that), but it’s so stinking fun and the adrenaline rush is so great, one can’t help enjoying themselves. And so I intend to enjoy myself fully and completely come Saturday! If you haven’t been 4-wheeling in your life, call me. You need to go. Trust me!
Other happenings – I’m cutting my hair tomorrow. Yes, that would be Saturday. Yes, it is before going 4-wheeling. So I will inaugurate my new ‘do by getting a dust-filled helmet head. Ha. Oh well. It’s time to change something, and as I can’t change my height, weight, or wardrobe without considerable expense and in a day’s time, I have settled for my hair. And the scary part is that when I get into this mood, I tend to do drastic things to my hair that I later regret. In the moment it’s liberating, but afterwards, it’s just a nightmare. There was the mushroom ‘do, the choppy ‘do, the Jennifer Aniston ‘do (actually, as I recall, that wasn’t a totally bad one)….maybe this is one of the reasons I avoid photos of myself at all costs. I hate to see my hair escapades captured for all to see and remember and mock. Hmmm. Anyway, I don’t think I’m going to go too drastic this time. I hope I’ve learned my lesson by now. But….we’ll see.
Thanks for the words of encouragement about the GMAT. All three of you who read my blog probably know that I didn’t do so well. At least not as well as I had hoped or imagined. And I don’t know if I did well enough to get into my PhD programs I’m targeting. But we’ll see. I at least did well enough on the verbal that colleges interested in applicants who can write well may not be deterred by my horrifically substandard math score. *crossing the fingers!* I was a little…okay….a LOT….disappointed and heart-bruised on Saturday after taking it. But, you know, after a few hours of crying and watching whatever I could find on TV and making banana bread (the perfect therapeutic food – nothing beats beating up bananas and making KILLER dough), I realized that maybe this is going to be a trial of my faith. It would require no faith if I did amazingly on the GMAT, - just apply and poof. Because I didn’t, it’s time to trust that this is all for the greater good and that something will work out. I’m hoping. So now it’s time to write essays, pay atrocious application fees, and wait. These might be some REALLY long months ahead.
Onto brighter topics- I’m going 4-wheeling on Saturday! I am so excited! My GMAT class has prevented me from going this past month and a half, and I was afraid that I was going to be unable to go again until next year. Now how sad would that have been. Happily, 60+ degree sunny weather is perfect for a 4-wheeling jaunt in the desert or mountains. Hooray! Nothing clears the mind so well as being reckless in a controlled fashion surrounded by nature. I have to admit, I do get scared sometimes following my fearless father onto paths that really aren’t paths (there was a mountain ridgeline incident once….I still can’t believe I did that), but it’s so stinking fun and the adrenaline rush is so great, one can’t help enjoying themselves. And so I intend to enjoy myself fully and completely come Saturday! If you haven’t been 4-wheeling in your life, call me. You need to go. Trust me!
Other happenings – I’m cutting my hair tomorrow. Yes, that would be Saturday. Yes, it is before going 4-wheeling. So I will inaugurate my new ‘do by getting a dust-filled helmet head. Ha. Oh well. It’s time to change something, and as I can’t change my height, weight, or wardrobe without considerable expense and in a day’s time, I have settled for my hair. And the scary part is that when I get into this mood, I tend to do drastic things to my hair that I later regret. In the moment it’s liberating, but afterwards, it’s just a nightmare. There was the mushroom ‘do, the choppy ‘do, the Jennifer Aniston ‘do (actually, as I recall, that wasn’t a totally bad one)….maybe this is one of the reasons I avoid photos of myself at all costs. I hate to see my hair escapades captured for all to see and remember and mock. Hmmm. Anyway, I don’t think I’m going to go too drastic this time. I hope I’ve learned my lesson by now. But….we’ll see.
So now that the GMAT craziness is over, I have an abundance of free time on my hands. I have to ask….now what? It was like a marathon race preparing for that test, and now that it’s over, what should I do with myself and my time? Suggestions? Both plausible and imagination-happy suggestions are accepted. What do you do with your free time after not having free time?
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Friday, October 19, 2007
The Countdown to G-Day
So I’m sitting at work, after having written three practice essays, reviewed all my notecards, and even contemplated taking another test, utterly devastated and excited that tomorrow is G-Day. Yup! GMAT Day! It’s finally arrived! After thinking about taking it for five months, kinda prepping for one month, and seriously prepping for a month a half, G-Day has come. This test will be one of the deciding factors into letting me pursue higher education. So one might innocently wonder, so….how am I doing?
Honestly, it’s odd. I thought I’d be this mixture of negative, self-defeating emotions. Thanks heavens I’m not! I’m nervous. Oh yes. Completely. But I’m also ready to take the beast and see how I do. I mean, it’ll be nice to have it over with (barring the notion of retaking it if my scores are substandard) and have a good portion of time and energy to devote to other pursuits. Like writing admissions essays. Hmmm. Maybe I should stick with the GMAT. Okay, I’m kidding about that. Let’s get it over with! As of right now, I feel ready. I know the formulas for surface areas (ha – they just all went rushing through my head and I had to pause to go through them individually – I am my own worst enemy!), the rules for properly using subjunctive (which reminds me that I need to go over pronoun cases tonight), and how to identify logical fallacies in arguments. I feel definitely geeky at this point. But given all that prep and random useless knowledge, I have no idea how that will translate into me achieving a decent and useable score. That’s the problem – using the knowledge as a homing signal for the right answer. 37 times for math questions and 41 times for verbal questions. *Sigh* I’m trying to remind myself that if grad school needs to happen, all my prep and angst and headaches will not have been in vain. But who knows. Only time will tell. And as I write, time will definitely tell, because by this time tomorrow, I’ll have been done with the monster. Erego, the resulting glee or gloom will be proclaimed to all by about 12:38 on Saturday, October 20th. Til then, blogging world!
Honestly, it’s odd. I thought I’d be this mixture of negative, self-defeating emotions. Thanks heavens I’m not! I’m nervous. Oh yes. Completely. But I’m also ready to take the beast and see how I do. I mean, it’ll be nice to have it over with (barring the notion of retaking it if my scores are substandard) and have a good portion of time and energy to devote to other pursuits. Like writing admissions essays. Hmmm. Maybe I should stick with the GMAT. Okay, I’m kidding about that. Let’s get it over with! As of right now, I feel ready. I know the formulas for surface areas (ha – they just all went rushing through my head and I had to pause to go through them individually – I am my own worst enemy!), the rules for properly using subjunctive (which reminds me that I need to go over pronoun cases tonight), and how to identify logical fallacies in arguments. I feel definitely geeky at this point. But given all that prep and random useless knowledge, I have no idea how that will translate into me achieving a decent and useable score. That’s the problem – using the knowledge as a homing signal for the right answer. 37 times for math questions and 41 times for verbal questions. *Sigh* I’m trying to remind myself that if grad school needs to happen, all my prep and angst and headaches will not have been in vain. But who knows. Only time will tell. And as I write, time will definitely tell, because by this time tomorrow, I’ll have been done with the monster. Erego, the resulting glee or gloom will be proclaimed to all by about 12:38 on Saturday, October 20th. Til then, blogging world!
Monday, October 15, 2007
Questioning a Classic
HRH called me up on Saturday night to watch an Audrey Hepburn movie. It was a comfort night, with slippers, hot bread pudding and chocolate, milk, and a classic Audrey movie. Call it the perfect end to a crazy day of GMAT prep and I gladly accepted the invite. I arrived and we discussed the movie options. If it was going to be an Audrey flick, we had to choose “Roman Holiday,” “Sabrina,” or “Breakfast at Tiffany’s.” In my opinion, Sabrina is great. But the whole Audrey – Bogart thing makes me a little….twitchy. It seems unnatural. The movie, not my twitchiness. That might have something to do with the 50 year age difference. And we can’t have twitching on comfort night. So, it was between “Roman Holiday” and “Breakfast at Tiffany’s.” I’ve seen “Roman Holiday” before, so I asked if we could watch “Breakfast at Tiffany’s.” I mean, it’s a classic. A song has been written about it. Hair styles were taken in a new direction by Audrey’s up-do. Even “Gossip Girl” had a scene in last week’s episode reenacting the opening of the movie, complete with “Moon River” in the background. So, obviously, this was a hole in my movie vieweing experience that needed to be filled. It’s been a classic since 1961! It was time to watch and partake of the antics of Holly Golightly.
Given my other Audrey movie experiences, I was expecting a light-hearted, clean, quirky, and loveable characters and movie. Hmmm. What I got was not what I expected. At one point, I told HRH that the party scene was a 1961 version of a rave. And then I found out the lead guy was having an affair with a married woman. And that Holly was a call-girl. And all she cared about was marrying a rich guy and her military brother, Fred. As the story progressed, we find out that Holly was married at the age of 14 and ran away (okay, so I probably would, too), visits a mob-convict every Thursday to deliver an innocent weather report from his “lawyer” (umm…be MORE naïve. I dare you.), and of course, our protagonist guy (Paul baby….or Fred) falls for Holly, though she pushes him away twice because he’s not rich enough for her, though he’s perfect for her in every other way.
After watching this, my first reaction was, “THIS IS A CLASSIC?” How? Why? Did I miss something here? Were the characters loveable? Not really. Was the story exciting or interesting? Not so much. Did I go “AWWWWW?” At the end? Nope. Sorry. So…what makes this movie a classic? It certainly wasn’t the surface level story, characters, soundtrack, or even dialogue. I was mystified.
Then my friend and I started talking. Holly was such a complex character beneath the awesome clothes and cigarettes. She was so totally insecure and a mystery to herself. Her choices in life were made in the hopes of forgetting that she had absolutely no idea who she was as a person. She had changed her name from Lula May (a good call on her part), was never settled down, didn’t even give her cat a name. She wanted to live the most out of life, but I think deep down realized that no matter what she did or how much glitz and glamour she aspired to in her life, she was lost. The drinking, cigarettes, constant changes….it all points to the fact that Holly was wanting something more, but didn’t know how to get it, and she didn’t realize that it has to come from her. Her male counterpart (Paul baby…Fred…whatever) was also lost. He had achieved moderate success with the publication of his book, but after that, he became lost, too. The fact that his lifestyle was being paid for by his married lover says it all. But, he recognized that it was not enough. Holly helped him see that, because she needed his help. Immensely. So he shaped up, ended the affair, got a real job, and got his life back on track. It was his love and verbal slap-in-the-face to Holly that helped her realize how empty her life was, and how she needed to change it. The movie ends with Holly and Paul baby standing in the rain, sheltering “Cat” - together. They needed each other to fill their lives, but could only come together when they had recognized their own problems, deficiencies, and so forth, and taken the step to change that. So really, this is a story about finding yourself, for better or for worse, and the necessity of those people in our lives who help us along the way.
And THAT, dear bloggers, is why this movie is a classic. The themes resonate almost 50 years later. The outfits may change and the picture quality might improve, but what this movie says behind all the movie fluff is applicable today. Now, would I watch this again? I don’t know. But is it a classic? I would say so.
Given my other Audrey movie experiences, I was expecting a light-hearted, clean, quirky, and loveable characters and movie. Hmmm. What I got was not what I expected. At one point, I told HRH that the party scene was a 1961 version of a rave. And then I found out the lead guy was having an affair with a married woman. And that Holly was a call-girl. And all she cared about was marrying a rich guy and her military brother, Fred. As the story progressed, we find out that Holly was married at the age of 14 and ran away (okay, so I probably would, too), visits a mob-convict every Thursday to deliver an innocent weather report from his “lawyer” (umm…be MORE naïve. I dare you.), and of course, our protagonist guy (Paul baby….or Fred) falls for Holly, though she pushes him away twice because he’s not rich enough for her, though he’s perfect for her in every other way.
After watching this, my first reaction was, “THIS IS A CLASSIC?” How? Why? Did I miss something here? Were the characters loveable? Not really. Was the story exciting or interesting? Not so much. Did I go “AWWWWW?” At the end? Nope. Sorry. So…what makes this movie a classic? It certainly wasn’t the surface level story, characters, soundtrack, or even dialogue. I was mystified.
Then my friend and I started talking. Holly was such a complex character beneath the awesome clothes and cigarettes. She was so totally insecure and a mystery to herself. Her choices in life were made in the hopes of forgetting that she had absolutely no idea who she was as a person. She had changed her name from Lula May (a good call on her part), was never settled down, didn’t even give her cat a name. She wanted to live the most out of life, but I think deep down realized that no matter what she did or how much glitz and glamour she aspired to in her life, she was lost. The drinking, cigarettes, constant changes….it all points to the fact that Holly was wanting something more, but didn’t know how to get it, and she didn’t realize that it has to come from her. Her male counterpart (Paul baby…Fred…whatever) was also lost. He had achieved moderate success with the publication of his book, but after that, he became lost, too. The fact that his lifestyle was being paid for by his married lover says it all. But, he recognized that it was not enough. Holly helped him see that, because she needed his help. Immensely. So he shaped up, ended the affair, got a real job, and got his life back on track. It was his love and verbal slap-in-the-face to Holly that helped her realize how empty her life was, and how she needed to change it. The movie ends with Holly and Paul baby standing in the rain, sheltering “Cat” - together. They needed each other to fill their lives, but could only come together when they had recognized their own problems, deficiencies, and so forth, and taken the step to change that. So really, this is a story about finding yourself, for better or for worse, and the necessity of those people in our lives who help us along the way.
And THAT, dear bloggers, is why this movie is a classic. The themes resonate almost 50 years later. The outfits may change and the picture quality might improve, but what this movie says behind all the movie fluff is applicable today. Now, would I watch this again? I don’t know. But is it a classic? I would say so.
Super Powers
I have a super power. Some of you may know that already about me. Some might be thinking… “You just have one?” (P.S. I like these people) Others might be saying to themselves, “Um, no. There’s no way that you have EVEN one.” (P.S. again – These people can stop reading right now because their unbelieving, cynical view of life will taint my enthusiasm. Erego…chaucito!) But, no matter what the critics of the super power secret world may say, I am shedding off my “normalcy” disguise and shouting to the world “I HAVE A SUPER POWER!”
Why might I be doing this now? Well, it’s quite simple really. I was watching “Heroes” the other night. This is a show about people born with not-so-normal nor common gifts, as a result of genetic mutation. Call it the weekly X-men serial drama, if you will. Just no Hugh Jackman or Bobby (Crying shame, if you ask me). They’ve included the normal powers – telepathy, flying, spontaneous self-healing, telekinesis, time freezing, etc. Still nothing to do with fire manipulation. I’ll wait for that. Anyway, the point is that I was watching episode 3 of the new season. Claire, the self-healing cheerleader, is in hiding with her adoptive family – and for obvious reasons. Scary people hunt you down when you are special and make life not worth living. So, being the teenager that she is, she’s in high school, laying low, pretending to not be special. Apparently it’s kind of hard for her, because she does some not-so-smart things that draw the attention of the friendly neighborhood flying stalker and bio lab partner, West. West gets on her case, eventually bringing her to tears, in which she declares, YES, WEST. I’M DIFFERENT. Then, he tells her to stop talking, picks her up, and they fly off into the clouds a la Lois and Clark. I have to ask myself, wouldn’t she need a warmer jacket than a light-weight hoodie to go gallivanting around the clouds? Just a reality check to remind me that TV is NOT reality.
So, what does this have to do with the price of beans in Chile? Not much. But, it does have much to do with my desire to reveal my super power to the world. To be able to say, YES, WORLD. I’M DIFFERENT! AND THIS IS WHY!
I…..Am…..The…..Human….Barometer.
No, X-men fanatics. I’m not Storm. My eyes don’t go all transparent when I’m ticked off, nor is my hair a freakish shade of blonde. Thank heavens. That would clash horribly with my skin tone. But, I do have this supernatural ability to predict weather patterns and changes. Now how many of you can do that without looking at the newspaper or weather.com? Not many, I would wager. And I think this is a power that grows in strength, because I did not have this power before my year and a half stint in Argentina, and it’s only become more powerful since my return. I now can predict when it will rain or snow, or if it is already raining or snowing, how long it will last, give or take a few hours. Pretty spiffy, eh?
Actually, being a super hero Human Barometer has its drawbacks. So let this be a warning to all you supernatural-power-seeking kids: with great power, comes many great and not-so-pleasant side effects. I present Evidence 1: Rogue’s hair streaking white. Evidence 2: Clark living a life of lies and secrecy. Evidence 3: Bruce’s mansion burning down. Evidence 4: Peter having to save Mary-Jane YET AGAIN from peril and the audience having to live through it. All point to the sad universal truth that super powers are not what they are cracked up to be. My own side-effect from being the Human Barometer is that I get nasty migraines that last for days…not so fun, let me tell you.
But, I don’t like dwelling on the negative. So I just revel in the fact that I have a super power. Which leads me to my question, blogging world – if you could choose your own super power, what would it be? Why? And most importantly, what name would you give yourself? I’m thinking Human Barometer is a little wordy. Suggestions?
Why might I be doing this now? Well, it’s quite simple really. I was watching “Heroes” the other night. This is a show about people born with not-so-normal nor common gifts, as a result of genetic mutation. Call it the weekly X-men serial drama, if you will. Just no Hugh Jackman or Bobby (Crying shame, if you ask me). They’ve included the normal powers – telepathy, flying, spontaneous self-healing, telekinesis, time freezing, etc. Still nothing to do with fire manipulation. I’ll wait for that. Anyway, the point is that I was watching episode 3 of the new season. Claire, the self-healing cheerleader, is in hiding with her adoptive family – and for obvious reasons. Scary people hunt you down when you are special and make life not worth living. So, being the teenager that she is, she’s in high school, laying low, pretending to not be special. Apparently it’s kind of hard for her, because she does some not-so-smart things that draw the attention of the friendly neighborhood flying stalker and bio lab partner, West. West gets on her case, eventually bringing her to tears, in which she declares, YES, WEST. I’M DIFFERENT. Then, he tells her to stop talking, picks her up, and they fly off into the clouds a la Lois and Clark. I have to ask myself, wouldn’t she need a warmer jacket than a light-weight hoodie to go gallivanting around the clouds? Just a reality check to remind me that TV is NOT reality.
So, what does this have to do with the price of beans in Chile? Not much. But, it does have much to do with my desire to reveal my super power to the world. To be able to say, YES, WORLD. I’M DIFFERENT! AND THIS IS WHY!
I…..Am…..The…..Human….Barometer.
No, X-men fanatics. I’m not Storm. My eyes don’t go all transparent when I’m ticked off, nor is my hair a freakish shade of blonde. Thank heavens. That would clash horribly with my skin tone. But, I do have this supernatural ability to predict weather patterns and changes. Now how many of you can do that without looking at the newspaper or weather.com? Not many, I would wager. And I think this is a power that grows in strength, because I did not have this power before my year and a half stint in Argentina, and it’s only become more powerful since my return. I now can predict when it will rain or snow, or if it is already raining or snowing, how long it will last, give or take a few hours. Pretty spiffy, eh?
Actually, being a super hero Human Barometer has its drawbacks. So let this be a warning to all you supernatural-power-seeking kids: with great power, comes many great and not-so-pleasant side effects. I present Evidence 1: Rogue’s hair streaking white. Evidence 2: Clark living a life of lies and secrecy. Evidence 3: Bruce’s mansion burning down. Evidence 4: Peter having to save Mary-Jane YET AGAIN from peril and the audience having to live through it. All point to the sad universal truth that super powers are not what they are cracked up to be. My own side-effect from being the Human Barometer is that I get nasty migraines that last for days…not so fun, let me tell you.
But, I don’t like dwelling on the negative. So I just revel in the fact that I have a super power. Which leads me to my question, blogging world – if you could choose your own super power, what would it be? Why? And most importantly, what name would you give yourself? I’m thinking Human Barometer is a little wordy. Suggestions?
Sunday, September 23, 2007
Top Ten Guys I Wish Were Real...Or At Least an Option
We all know that it is so much more entertaining to live in a fantasy world than it is to live in reality. And if I'm going to live in a fantasy, I want to have the super-uber-perfect guy to be there right by my side. So that got me thinking - who would I pick? And as I can't leave anything up to chance, I decided to give the fates a little help on this one. So, blogger kids, I give to you my top ten list of guys I wish were real....or at least a viable option. And I'll try to explain who they are, where they are from, and why they are on the list.
1. Mr. Darcy (of any version....do I need to explain this one?)
2. Mr. Rochester (specifically the Toby Stephens' Rochester - he may be crazy, but he makes crazy look so DANG appealing)
3. Edward and/or Jacob (I'm cheating on this one, because it really should only be ONE guy, but hey - if one isn't real, I'd gladly take the other. See Twilight series for more information on this dilemma)
4. Gilbert Blythe (Anne of Green Gables - he waited how many years? Hook me up with some of that Canadian love!)
5. Jim (from the Office - Office Olympics anyone? Need I say more?)
6. Dean Forester (Gilmore Girls....but the Dean from seasons 1-2...beyond that, no thanks)
7. Orlando Bloom (be it a sprightly, arrow-wielding Elf or an honor-bound driven Pirate, he can make any girl swoon. Savvy?)
8. James McAvoy (you know- I'm in a phase. I'll get over it. Until then, watch the Penelope trailer and see if you join me.)
9. Fred Weasley (LOVE HIM. Hilarious. Talented. Wizard. *sigh* Don't get me started on his tragic demise, okay? I'm still in mourning)
10. Gerard Butler! (the real-life Gerard, the Phantom Gerard, the Dear Frankie Gerard, even the Lara Croft Gerard...if you don't know why he should be on the list...well, I'm sorry for you. A life without Gerard is not worth living!)
So there you have it. This is not set in stone, so be ready for changes in the line-up, last minute additions, and popular vote-ins. And so, dear friends - who would you put on the list?
1. Mr. Darcy (of any version....do I need to explain this one?)
2. Mr. Rochester (specifically the Toby Stephens' Rochester - he may be crazy, but he makes crazy look so DANG appealing)
3. Edward and/or Jacob (I'm cheating on this one, because it really should only be ONE guy, but hey - if one isn't real, I'd gladly take the other. See Twilight series for more information on this dilemma)
4. Gilbert Blythe (Anne of Green Gables - he waited how many years? Hook me up with some of that Canadian love!)
5. Jim (from the Office - Office Olympics anyone? Need I say more?)
6. Dean Forester (Gilmore Girls....but the Dean from seasons 1-2...beyond that, no thanks)
7. Orlando Bloom (be it a sprightly, arrow-wielding Elf or an honor-bound driven Pirate, he can make any girl swoon. Savvy?)
8. James McAvoy (you know- I'm in a phase. I'll get over it. Until then, watch the Penelope trailer and see if you join me.)
9. Fred Weasley (LOVE HIM. Hilarious. Talented. Wizard. *sigh* Don't get me started on his tragic demise, okay? I'm still in mourning)
10. Gerard Butler! (the real-life Gerard, the Phantom Gerard, the Dear Frankie Gerard, even the Lara Croft Gerard...if you don't know why he should be on the list...well, I'm sorry for you. A life without Gerard is not worth living!)
So there you have it. This is not set in stone, so be ready for changes in the line-up, last minute additions, and popular vote-ins. And so, dear friends - who would you put on the list?
Friday, September 21, 2007
Flavor of the Day
I am a creature of habit. I do basically the same things every day while at work and at home – same lunchtime routine of eating an apple and a peanut butter bar in the park, same wake-up time, same GMAT prep every evening…. these routines generally don’t change. And yet, despite what I do that would make each day seem mundane and monotonous, each day is distinct. Different outfit to wear, different amount of traffic on the roads, different food cravings…each day is just uniquely it’s own - with its own particular flavor.
I’m sure we can all agree that some days are more flavorful and appetizing than others. Those are the triple-brownie, caramel-striped with toffee nugget days when a special boy calls, you find the perfect pair of shoes on sale AND in your size, or you are just in a good groove that day and you swear that little leprechauns are jaunting all around you, sprinkling their good luck in your path because everything just goes well. I love those days. Then there are the other days. You wonder what the fates were thinking when they created that flavor of a day. It’s akin to a mocha-pistachio swirl, with a handful of cayenne-pepper covered cherries. It is just nasty upon first bite, and it does not improve upon further consumption. Those are the days when you wake up with a headache, you have a flat tire, you make forty gazillion mistakes at work (and are told about each and every single one), and there is pointless road construction on the way home, so it takes 48 minutes to get home instead of 21. You never want to repeat those days again. Then you have the days in the middle. The cookies-and cream, mint-chocolate-chip type of days. The normal ones. They are perfectly pleasing to the palate. But by the time you’re done with them, you are ready for a break. Something new. Something different. Another flavor, shall we say. These are the good days, where by the end of them, you’re satisfied with all that you’ve done, but are ready to go to bed and experience what the next day’s flavor is. Because you know it will be different.
Are you having good flavor days? And if you would classify them as not-so-good flavor days, are you going to do something to change them into yummy flavors? It’s possible – it just takes a little bit of effort, and a lot of courage…just like going back and asking the ice cream man for a scoop of a different flavor – it all starts with us.
So – with that said - what’s your flavor today???
I’m sure we can all agree that some days are more flavorful and appetizing than others. Those are the triple-brownie, caramel-striped with toffee nugget days when a special boy calls, you find the perfect pair of shoes on sale AND in your size, or you are just in a good groove that day and you swear that little leprechauns are jaunting all around you, sprinkling their good luck in your path because everything just goes well. I love those days. Then there are the other days. You wonder what the fates were thinking when they created that flavor of a day. It’s akin to a mocha-pistachio swirl, with a handful of cayenne-pepper covered cherries. It is just nasty upon first bite, and it does not improve upon further consumption. Those are the days when you wake up with a headache, you have a flat tire, you make forty gazillion mistakes at work (and are told about each and every single one), and there is pointless road construction on the way home, so it takes 48 minutes to get home instead of 21. You never want to repeat those days again. Then you have the days in the middle. The cookies-and cream, mint-chocolate-chip type of days. The normal ones. They are perfectly pleasing to the palate. But by the time you’re done with them, you are ready for a break. Something new. Something different. Another flavor, shall we say. These are the good days, where by the end of them, you’re satisfied with all that you’ve done, but are ready to go to bed and experience what the next day’s flavor is. Because you know it will be different.
Are you having good flavor days? And if you would classify them as not-so-good flavor days, are you going to do something to change them into yummy flavors? It’s possible – it just takes a little bit of effort, and a lot of courage…just like going back and asking the ice cream man for a scoop of a different flavor – it all starts with us.
So – with that said - what’s your flavor today???
Monday, September 17, 2007
Good Times
Usually when life gets crazy, moments and thoughts get funnier. I haven't figured out if that's because we're going legally insane at those moments and erego, life is just a hilarious show. Maybe it is. Or maybe we just latch on to those funny, spontaneous moments to try to keep us sane. Who knows. But whatever the cause, you live for the moments. So here are some of mine from the past little while:
Cultural Education...Or Lack Thereof
On Saturday night HRH, a couple of her friends, and I went to the India Fest that they hold once a year at the local (ahem - this means the only one in a two-hundred mile radius) Ind
ian temple. It was the first time I had been there and I was excited to go because...hey. How often is it that you can say casually to your friend, "Yeah, I went to the Indian Temple on Saturday." I mean, instant cool factor right there. So we went. It's in the middle of nowhere - actually, it's in the middle of farmer fields, which just made it feel strangely like we were actually in India - or how I imagine it would feel to be in India...minus the humidity, of course. I was a little disappointed because there wasn't much to do, and what there was to do, you either had to pay, stand in a never-ending line, or fight the crowds. Not entirely what I was expecting.
We went up into the temple where they had an appointed story-teller-guide-person-man to tell the story of their culture and religion. We sat down, and I was ready to be culturally edified. Much to my chagrin, I could barely understand the enthusiastic man gibbering off in a mix between Hindi and English. We lasted about 3 minutes and then decided to leave. I remarked to my friend that I was hoping to learn more of their culture and religion, because, sadly, everything I've ever learned about India, I learned from "Bend it Like Beckham" and "Bride & Prejudice." Which, at the time, was a hilarious realization. I mean, India is HOW big and culturally important, and all I can boast after my many years of education and world history classes is that my knowledge of a fascinating country is based on two Indian-influenced chick flicks. My world is apparently very small. That didn't stop me from hoping that Jonathan Rhys-Myers or Martin Henderson would magically show up and get their Indian groove on. Once again, I was disappointed.
What the....?
Like I said, the India Fest was packed to capacity (and probably a little over). There were families, groups of friends, and all forms of human life that you could expect to find at such a gathering. However, I was not expecting one human life to be there. So I was standing around the Henna Tattoo booth, because a couple of the girls with us wanted to get tattoos. And as there was nothing else to do, we accompanied them in the line, discussing everything from career aspirations to how similar Mika is to Miranda. We were standing in a circle, chatting away, when I casually looked to the side of my friend. I saw just a sea of faces, one of which was behind said friend. I looked away, because why pay attention to random faces unless they are Jonathan Rhys-Myers or Martin Henderson? It took me a second after I turned back to our group to realize that I recognized that face. Very well. And not from the movies. I looked back and saw the person still staring at me, with a grin starting to begin at the corners of his mouth. It was my friend Nate. Nate, mind you, is a friend from high school -well -we were friendsish. We eventually became pretty good friends in college. Since being home from Argentina, however, I hadn't seen him much. You know how that works. They have girlfriends and that's just not right to be around too much. He went to Washington DC for the summer and had been back a month. He hadn't called and I hadn't called him. That's just how we work. We catch up every couple of months or so, but nothing too major in between. And quite frankly, I saw his posts on Facebook and heaven help me if I was going to be one of the many girls trying to get his attention. So I refused.
Thus, seein
g him, after about four months of not seeing him, and seeing him when I was not expecting to see him, caused me to have this blank stare and blurt out the words, "Of all the places in the world for you to be, why are you HERE?" That's a nice greeting, now isn't it. He said hey to all and then quickly scurried away to be with his roommates. And that was it. Of all the places to see an old friend who you avoided because of his harem of girls, you see him at the Indian Temple in Spanish Fork, Utah, during the India Fest, on a Saturday night. Which leads me to conclude...."WHAT THE...???"
Fall Colors
I don't think this is necessarily funny, but it's strangely amusing to me. My mom wanted to go up the canyon to see the trees changing colors. It's kind of a tradition with us. And apparently the colors won't last long this year because we had a dry spring or something. I really need to study up on that. Anyway, we went up the canyon, just the two of us. We drove arou
nd, saw the brilliant reds, the vibrant oranges, and the stunning yellows, all mixed in with the greens. It was beautiful. The problem is that I get carsick. I'm good on long road trips, and I just can't read or do anything in cars if we're going on short trips. The real problems start on winding roads. I cannot stop the queasiness once we get on those. I almost didn't get to go to my favorite place in the entire world, Sea Ranch, California, because it's about 45 minutes of coast-hugging highways. And the little roads up the canyon that wind around the different campsites? Almost as bad. So my mom kept on chatting and driving, while I rolled down my window and curled up into a ball. We got lost. Do you know the agony of being carsick and not knowing the way out of the evil one-way roads of camping? Intense, let me tell you. We finally found the little wood post that directed us toward the exit. We got home and I went directly upstairs to my bed and put on Pride & Prejudice on my laptop and laid there for about an hour and a half, until I could move again without feeling like I was going to lose it. That's just life, isn't it? You go do something fun and not normally done, and enjoy it, but then end up curled on your bed for an hour afterward because of carsickness. Joy!
The Pink Ones
I stayed the night and spent part of the day with my cousin and sister last Saturday. I did my GMAT prep (ugghhhhhh), was introduced to Supernatural with a four-episode marathon (not so shabby, but I'm left with the question which really needs to be answered...who is cuter? Jared/Sam or Jensen/Dean? Help!), and vegged just a little. It was needed. So my cousin and I wanted to go to Costco to gas up my car and buy Supernatural Season 2, because apparently it was on sale (actually, it wasn't. My sister should learn not to assume things), and eat the tasters. Yum! My sister wanted to go to her running store to buy new shoes. Since it is very close to Costco, I offered to take her there. Geez. I am so not a runner, let me tell you. I don't know if you've ever had the joy of going into a store which is SO not your thing. The only logical response is to make fun of the things you see, because let's be honest. Half the time you don't even know what the things are for. I mean, squeezable sport gel, anyone?
So the worker guy asked us if we needed help, and I pointed to my sister and said, "Help her!" He looked at us funny, and that was my escape cue. My cousin and I ran outside and sat to wait for my sister. Apparently it's a very in-depth process to pick out new shoes. Support, weight, fit, comfort...who knew? At this store, they will not sell you a pair of shoes until you've tried about eight on, and run with all eight outside for a little bit. Then you do shoe challenges, running with one shoe on one foot and another shoe on the other, in order to find the winner. It's a weird world, that running world is. So the cute sales guy comes out with my sister and tells her to run. She runs past us and shouts, "What do you think?" Me, being the girl that I am, shout back, "They're not cute! Don't they have some in pink???" I heard the guy laugh behind me. Yeah, I'm not a runner. It's apparent. So a few shoes later, she runs out, super excited. "THEY'RE PINK!" And they were. These shoes were white, with pink accents. And not just plain pink. Shiny pink in some places. I was sold. And I made sure she was, too. I mean, honestly. Who needs running shoes that make you look ugly? It's all about the image.
And pink does the trick.
Cultural Education...Or Lack Thereof
On Saturday night HRH, a couple of her friends, and I went to the India Fest that they hold once a year at the local (ahem - this means the only one in a two-hundred mile radius) Ind
ian temple. It was the first time I had been there and I was excited to go because...hey. How often is it that you can say casually to your friend, "Yeah, I went to the Indian Temple on Saturday." I mean, instant cool factor right there. So we went. It's in the middle of nowhere - actually, it's in the middle of farmer fields, which just made it feel strangely like we were actually in India - or how I imagine it would feel to be in India...minus the humidity, of course. I was a little disappointed because there wasn't much to do, and what there was to do, you either had to pay, stand in a never-ending line, or fight the crowds. Not entirely what I was expecting.We went up into the temple where they had an appointed story-teller-guide-person-man to tell the story of their culture and religion. We sat down, and I was ready to be culturally edified. Much to my chagrin, I could barely understand the enthusiastic man gibbering off in a mix between Hindi and English. We lasted about 3 minutes and then decided to leave. I remarked to my friend that I was hoping to learn more of their culture and religion, because, sadly, everything I've ever learned about India, I learned from "Bend it Like Beckham" and "Bride & Prejudice." Which, at the time, was a hilarious realization. I mean, India is HOW big and culturally important, and all I can boast after my many years of education and world history classes is that my knowledge of a fascinating country is based on two Indian-influenced chick flicks. My world is apparently very small. That didn't stop me from hoping that Jonathan Rhys-Myers or Martin Henderson would magically show up and get their Indian groove on. Once again, I was disappointed.
What the....?
Like I said, the India Fest was packed to capacity (and probably a little over). There were families, groups of friends, and all forms of human life that you could expect to find at such a gathering. However, I was not expecting one human life to be there. So I was standing around the Henna Tattoo booth, because a couple of the girls with us wanted to get tattoos. And as there was nothing else to do, we accompanied them in the line, discussing everything from career aspirations to how similar Mika is to Miranda. We were standing in a circle, chatting away, when I casually looked to the side of my friend. I saw just a sea of faces, one of which was behind said friend. I looked away, because why pay attention to random faces unless they are Jonathan Rhys-Myers or Martin Henderson? It took me a second after I turned back to our group to realize that I recognized that face. Very well. And not from the movies. I looked back and saw the person still staring at me, with a grin starting to begin at the corners of his mouth. It was my friend Nate. Nate, mind you, is a friend from high school -well -we were friendsish. We eventually became pretty good friends in college. Since being home from Argentina, however, I hadn't seen him much. You know how that works. They have girlfriends and that's just not right to be around too much. He went to Washington DC for the summer and had been back a month. He hadn't called and I hadn't called him. That's just how we work. We catch up every couple of months or so, but nothing too major in between. And quite frankly, I saw his posts on Facebook and heaven help me if I was going to be one of the many girls trying to get his attention. So I refused.
Thus, seein
g him, after about four months of not seeing him, and seeing him when I was not expecting to see him, caused me to have this blank stare and blurt out the words, "Of all the places in the world for you to be, why are you HERE?" That's a nice greeting, now isn't it. He said hey to all and then quickly scurried away to be with his roommates. And that was it. Of all the places to see an old friend who you avoided because of his harem of girls, you see him at the Indian Temple in Spanish Fork, Utah, during the India Fest, on a Saturday night. Which leads me to conclude...."WHAT THE...???" Fall Colors
I don't think this is necessarily funny, but it's strangely amusing to me. My mom wanted to go up the canyon to see the trees changing colors. It's kind of a tradition with us. And apparently the colors won't last long this year because we had a dry spring or something. I really need to study up on that. Anyway, we went up the canyon, just the two of us. We drove arou
nd, saw the brilliant reds, the vibrant oranges, and the stunning yellows, all mixed in with the greens. It was beautiful. The problem is that I get carsick. I'm good on long road trips, and I just can't read or do anything in cars if we're going on short trips. The real problems start on winding roads. I cannot stop the queasiness once we get on those. I almost didn't get to go to my favorite place in the entire world, Sea Ranch, California, because it's about 45 minutes of coast-hugging highways. And the little roads up the canyon that wind around the different campsites? Almost as bad. So my mom kept on chatting and driving, while I rolled down my window and curled up into a ball. We got lost. Do you know the agony of being carsick and not knowing the way out of the evil one-way roads of camping? Intense, let me tell you. We finally found the little wood post that directed us toward the exit. We got home and I went directly upstairs to my bed and put on Pride & Prejudice on my laptop and laid there for about an hour and a half, until I could move again without feeling like I was going to lose it. That's just life, isn't it? You go do something fun and not normally done, and enjoy it, but then end up curled on your bed for an hour afterward because of carsickness. Joy!The Pink Ones
I stayed the night and spent part of the day with my cousin and sister last Saturday. I did my GMAT prep (ugghhhhhh), was introduced to Supernatural with a four-episode marathon (not so shabby, but I'm left with the question which really needs to be answered...who is cuter? Jared/Sam or Jensen/Dean? Help!), and vegged just a little. It was needed. So my cousin and I wanted to go to Costco to gas up my car and buy Supernatural Season 2, because apparently it was on sale (actually, it wasn't. My sister should learn not to assume things), and eat the tasters. Yum! My sister wanted to go to her running store to buy new shoes. Since it is very close to Costco, I offered to take her there. Geez. I am so not a runner, let me tell you. I don't know if you've ever had the joy of going into a store which is SO not your thing. The only logical response is to make fun of the things you see, because let's be honest. Half the time you don't even know what the things are for. I mean, squeezable sport gel, anyone?
So the worker guy asked us if we needed help, and I pointed to my sister and said, "Help her!" He looked at us funny, and that was my escape cue. My cousin and I ran outside and sat to wait for my sister. Apparently it's a very in-depth process to pick out new shoes. Support, weight, fit, comfort...who knew? At this store, they will not sell you a pair of shoes until you've tried about eight on, and run with all eight outside for a little bit. Then you do shoe challenges, running with one shoe on one foot and another shoe on the other, in order to find the winner. It's a weird world, that running world is. So the cute sales guy comes out with my sister and tells her to run. She runs past us and shouts, "What do you think?" Me, being the girl that I am, shout back, "They're not cute! Don't they have some in pink???" I heard the guy laugh behind me. Yeah, I'm not a runner. It's apparent. So a few shoes later, she runs out, super excited. "THEY'RE PINK!" And they were. These shoes were white, with pink accents. And not just plain pink. Shiny pink in some places. I was sold. And I made sure she was, too. I mean, honestly. Who needs running shoes that make you look ugly? It's all about the image.
And pink does the trick.
The Reality of Fictional Favorites
I go to church every week and this Sunday's topic in one of our classes was marriage. *Inward groan* Nothing says Hip-hip-hooray like a marriage class in a single's ward. Trust me. Anyway, one of the girls asked about when should you pay attention to the red flags before getting serious, and which flags were important. Quoting the text which the lesson was based on, "there must be the proper approach toward marriage, which contemplates the selection of a spouse who reaches as nearly as possible the pinnacle of perfection in all the matters which are of importan
ce to the individuals." I then made the comment: "Girls, we will not find a perfect guy. Ever. They don't exist. The sad reality is that Mr. Darcy is not real. Nor is Edward. So we need to find guys who come close to perfection in every significant area. But if we are searching for ultimate perfection, we will end up alone, with only our books and chick flicks to comfort us." I got a lot of laughs, but it's true. And as much as I hated saying it (because now I have to admit it), Mr. Darcy is not real. Nor is Edward. That is just the reality of our fictional favorites. Nevertheless, which book am I rereading? Pride and Prejudice. Which book(s) did I read before P&P? The Twilight series. Sometimes I think reality is overrated.
The Arrogance of Men
I don't know how many of you have seen Star Wars Episode Five (or #2 in the original trilogy), but I watched it this weekend and was reminded of a line that makes me want to gag everytime I hear it. Imagine Han, in shackles, ready to be put into frozen hibernation for an indefinite amount of time. The Empire's bubble-head guards are all standing around thinking, "Hey man - is it lunch yet? This Vader dude totally sucks out all my positive energy." And Chewy and Leia are there, watching helplessly. Okay, Chewy wasn't totally helpless. He took a few guards down before Han told him to cut it out and protect the damsel in distress. I'm sorry, has Leia EVER been the damsel needing protection? Okay, don't answer that. So Leia and Han have a farewell smooch and as he is pulled away, she says, "I love you." His reply? Not "I love you, too." Or, "Get me out of this and I'll marry you in a pod-racing second." No. He says, oh so gallantly, "I know." Geez. Of all the arrogant replies. That one is the worst. Does it say that he loves her? That he's committed? Negative, ghostwriter. Rather, it is the detached, emotionally void reply that stems from his inner ego. Talk about arrogance. That always ticks me off.
So, while watching this movie with a group of people I didn't really know that well, I make the reply: "You know, I'd like to be a bounty hunter for a day and take him down." I got a lot of funny looks. Maybe I should try verbalizing all of the mental banter I have before making such comments in the future. Note to self.
The Really Big Brain Cramp
So, I thought GMAT would be bad. That was until I had to translate an engineering report from Spanish to English. Complete with math conversions from the metric scale to what we Americans use. I think that's why all of the above moments/thoughts were so funny or at least note-worthy. I spent the beginning of last week doing this for about 12 hours. Ouch. Not recommended. So don't blame me for being odd. Blame the goo that was me before the translations began.
Living the Kamikaze Life
So, HRH recently chastised me for not keeping my blog up-to-date with my random life occurrences. I apologized because it was the truth, and what else can you say in response to the truth, except…I’m sorry. So I did. And that was about a week ago. I guess I’m slow. Or a slacker. Or just completely overrun by my kamikaze life. Time to explain!
What is a kamikaze life, you might ask? Well, according to the uber-knowledgeable database Wikipedia, kamikaze means in Japanese “god-wind” or “divine wind.” So, its origin is divine, correct? Right. Go with me here on this. Somehow, in the translation of the word and its everyday use in English, it now refers to the suicide bombers of World War II, and basically suicidal action in general. Put the two meanings together, and you get what I mean by living the kamikaze life. There are days when I feel like my life is caree
ning out of control, the warning buttons are beeping at a frantic pace, and I can barely think straight because too much is going on that I can’t even focus on pulling out of the death spiral nose-dive. The kicker, though, is that it all comes from a divine source. No, it doesn’t mean that God hates me and is punishing me by sending things to bring me down to an early demise. Quite the opposite. I am dealing with things that seem bent on my destruction, but in actuality, are sent to help me become who I can and need to be. Is it overwhelming? Yes. But is there a reason for it all? I would have to say yes.
So what I am dealing with or going through? Don’t laugh because it is a lot for me right now, but it can be summed up in one short acronym – GMAT. I’m prepping to take the evil sucker on October 20th (aka in my world as D-Day. No, not Deliverance Day. DOOM DAY). I’m taking a class at BYU to help motivate me. Oh yes. $335 for a class that is eight hours a week - 4 hours on Thursday evening and 4 hours on Saturday morning. When each class is over, I consider it a success if I remember my name and where I parked my car. My brain is impaired that much. The worst of it all is that I chose to be there. AND I PAID FOR IT, TOO! *Sigh* The sacrifices you make to be able to pursue higher education in the world. I’m also doing math and language practice problems every evening for at least an hour. So that means by the time 8:00 has rolled around, I’ve basically sat around all day, either at work or at home, slowly turning my mind into Leah brain-goo. This means that I need to exercise for about an hour while watching an episode of Gilmore Girls in order to bring me back to a somewhat normal state, and then crash into my bed at night. Add all of this insanity to my normal duties as a daughter, sister, chauffeur to my brother, as well as my desires to have somewhat of a social life on weekends, and you get Leah’s kamikaze life.
I’m sure you have all had moments, days, weeks, or periods like this in your life. You know it’s all leading to something. You just don’t know what. Nor when it will happen. But you put up with the craziness because you know that it doesn’t lead you to the end of the path, but rather takes you to a new one, full of new adventures and twists and turns. So we soldier on - until the day when it all makes sense, and we can sit back and breathe a sigh of relief and say… “A-HA!”
What is a kamikaze life, you might ask? Well, according to the uber-knowledgeable database Wikipedia, kamikaze means in Japanese “god-wind” or “divine wind.” So, its origin is divine, correct? Right. Go with me here on this. Somehow, in the translation of the word and its everyday use in English, it now refers to the suicide bombers of World War II, and basically suicidal action in general. Put the two meanings together, and you get what I mean by living the kamikaze life. There are days when I feel like my life is caree
ning out of control, the warning buttons are beeping at a frantic pace, and I can barely think straight because too much is going on that I can’t even focus on pulling out of the death spiral nose-dive. The kicker, though, is that it all comes from a divine source. No, it doesn’t mean that God hates me and is punishing me by sending things to bring me down to an early demise. Quite the opposite. I am dealing with things that seem bent on my destruction, but in actuality, are sent to help me become who I can and need to be. Is it overwhelming? Yes. But is there a reason for it all? I would have to say yes.So what I am dealing with or going through? Don’t laugh because it is a lot for me right now, but it can be summed up in one short acronym – GMAT. I’m prepping to take the evil sucker on October 20th (aka in my world as D-Day. No, not Deliverance Day. DOOM DAY). I’m taking a class at BYU to help motivate me. Oh yes. $335 for a class that is eight hours a week - 4 hours on Thursday evening and 4 hours on Saturday morning. When each class is over, I consider it a success if I remember my name and where I parked my car. My brain is impaired that much. The worst of it all is that I chose to be there. AND I PAID FOR IT, TOO! *Sigh* The sacrifices you make to be able to pursue higher education in the world. I’m also doing math and language practice problems every evening for at least an hour. So that means by the time 8:00 has rolled around, I’ve basically sat around all day, either at work or at home, slowly turning my mind into Leah brain-goo. This means that I need to exercise for about an hour while watching an episode of Gilmore Girls in order to bring me back to a somewhat normal state, and then crash into my bed at night. Add all of this insanity to my normal duties as a daughter, sister, chauffeur to my brother, as well as my desires to have somewhat of a social life on weekends, and you get Leah’s kamikaze life.
I’m sure you have all had moments, days, weeks, or periods like this in your life. You know it’s all leading to something. You just don’t know what. Nor when it will happen. But you put up with the craziness because you know that it doesn’t lead you to the end of the path, but rather takes you to a new one, full of new adventures and twists and turns. So we soldier on - until the day when it all makes sense, and we can sit back and breathe a sigh of relief and say… “A-HA!”
Friday, August 31, 2007
Saying Goodbye.
So, last night was a turning point for me. Not a jubiliant, HUZZAH shouting turning point, but one which 
I think (I hope!) will be good in the long run. Though the tears that have been letting loose all morning show that at least for now, it’s gonna hurt. A lot. And the little girl that's inside of me is just throwing this tantrum in response to all that's been going on. So instead of breaking things or driving somewhere far far away and two stars to the right (gas is still just a little high to be filling up my Escape with every long-distance whim I get), I decided that the turmoil causing the inner tantrum needs to be voiced. And thus it can go away.
It started out with going through a dark week last week – where nothing goes right and you feel like the powers of all that is evil in the world are combined against you. Not so fun, shall we say! And the one person I needed to talk to, was being elusive, evasive, and just not there when I needed him. This caused a lot of self-analysis, because all of my emotions were just screaming out – YOU NEED HIM, when in actuality, I really didn’t. I could survive without him. And I did. (Score: Leah 1. Her emotions: 0) If he had been there, we would have talked and I would have received the wise counsel I needed and the knowledge that someone was there for me during a hard time. But he wasn’t. And that’s what started this whole thing.
I was just going to disappear off of his radar without so much as another word as to why I was completely frustrated and emotionally distraught over him. But, I couldn’t do that. I need closure. So I called him. We played the phone tag game again until about 11:45 at night, when he called. I debated whether or not I wanted to answer, and right before it went to voicemail, I answered. We talked about everything – from the heckfire I went through last week to why I was so irritated and hurt where he was concerned. It comes down to this: I care about him so much and I want so many different things from him, and he’s not there with me. Am I his friend? Most definitely. Does he care? Thankfully, yes. But beyond that, it’s no-man’s land for him. He just can’t go there, and I understand that. If it’s not there, you can’t force it, fake it, or buy it. So there it is. He told me I need to relax, to let him go, to just end this for now. I won’t be able to find what I need as long as I have this hope with him. So, let’s just take away the hope. Literally. And he was right. I already knew that and had already decided that. But it still hurts.
Some days I just wonder when I will get a break. I mean, this isn’t new to me. I’ve dealt with this sort of thing before. Just not with someone who was so close to me in so many ways. And I think that’s what’s hurting right now. Because normally when I feel this way, I call him. And I can’t. Not now. And probably not for a while.
Saying goodbye. It’s what you need to do to break free, to close that chapter of your life. Those preface chapters are still there, a part of you, but you move on- the pages turn. And you know it’s right, and you know it’s time, and though saying the word ‘bye – and meaning it- can just tear the heart up, that’s just what needs to be said. Nothing more, nothing less. But if you need to have some wallow music for the “saying goodbye” aftershocks and wallowing period, I recommend the following, from personal experience, to soothe the wounded soul: (and no mocking allowed as to where these come from, because it’s the WORDS that matter!)
Gotta Go My Own Way – High School Musical 2
Almost Lover – A Fine Frenzy
I Will Remember You – Ryan Cabrera
If We Were a Movie – Hannah Montana
Goodbye to You – Michelle Branch
Me Voy – Julieta Venegas
Hate – Plain White T’s
Sozzi- Letting Go
Les Miserables – On My Own
Leave the Pieces - The Wreckers
Any other suggestions? What do you listen to when you say goodbye?
I think (I hope!) will be good in the long run. Though the tears that have been letting loose all morning show that at least for now, it’s gonna hurt. A lot. And the little girl that's inside of me is just throwing this tantrum in response to all that's been going on. So instead of breaking things or driving somewhere far far away and two stars to the right (gas is still just a little high to be filling up my Escape with every long-distance whim I get), I decided that the turmoil causing the inner tantrum needs to be voiced. And thus it can go away.It started out with going through a dark week last week – where nothing goes right and you feel like the powers of all that is evil in the world are combined against you. Not so fun, shall we say! And the one person I needed to talk to, was being elusive, evasive, and just not there when I needed him. This caused a lot of self-analysis, because all of my emotions were just screaming out – YOU NEED HIM, when in actuality, I really didn’t. I could survive without him. And I did. (Score: Leah 1. Her emotions: 0) If he had been there, we would have talked and I would have received the wise counsel I needed and the knowledge that someone was there for me during a hard time. But he wasn’t. And that’s what started this whole thing.
I was just going to disappear off of his radar without so much as another word as to why I was completely frustrated and emotionally distraught over him. But, I couldn’t do that. I need closure. So I called him. We played the phone tag game again until about 11:45 at night, when he called. I debated whether or not I wanted to answer, and right before it went to voicemail, I answered. We talked about everything – from the heckfire I went through last week to why I was so irritated and hurt where he was concerned. It comes down to this: I care about him so much and I want so many different things from him, and he’s not there with me. Am I his friend? Most definitely. Does he care? Thankfully, yes. But beyond that, it’s no-man’s land for him. He just can’t go there, and I understand that. If it’s not there, you can’t force it, fake it, or buy it. So there it is. He told me I need to relax, to let him go, to just end this for now. I won’t be able to find what I need as long as I have this hope with him. So, let’s just take away the hope. Literally. And he was right. I already knew that and had already decided that. But it still hurts.
Some days I just wonder when I will get a break. I mean, this isn’t new to me. I’ve dealt with this sort of thing before. Just not with someone who was so close to me in so many ways. And I think that’s what’s hurting right now. Because normally when I feel this way, I call him. And I can’t. Not now. And probably not for a while.
Saying goodbye. It’s what you need to do to break free, to close that chapter of your life. Those preface chapters are still there, a part of you, but you move on- the pages turn. And you know it’s right, and you know it’s time, and though saying the word ‘bye – and meaning it- can just tear the heart up, that’s just what needs to be said. Nothing more, nothing less. But if you need to have some wallow music for the “saying goodbye” aftershocks and wallowing period, I recommend the following, from personal experience, to soothe the wounded soul: (and no mocking allowed as to where these come from, because it’s the WORDS that matter!)
Gotta Go My Own Way – High School Musical 2
Almost Lover – A Fine Frenzy
I Will Remember You – Ryan Cabrera
If We Were a Movie – Hannah Montana
Goodbye to You – Michelle Branch
Me Voy – Julieta Venegas
Hate – Plain White T’s
Sozzi- Letting Go
Les Miserables – On My Own
Leave the Pieces - The Wreckers
Any other suggestions? What do you listen to when you say goodbye?
Monday, August 27, 2007
Monday Doldrums
So, I am sitting here at work, fighting off a mind-numbing headache, and I am just watching the minutes slowly tick by. I think that's the problem with being paid by the hour - hours, seconds, the slow progression of the minute hand around the clock...it can become attention-consuming. Especially when there is nothing else to divert your attention. Let me explain. I have a great job. I really do. I get paid heads and tails above others who are doing exactly what I am. Paid benefits? I have them! My boss is incredibly kind, patient, and understanding. And the engineers I work with, contrary to popular myth, are quite hilarious and sarcastic. It's refreshing, to say the least. So what's my problem, might you ask? 18 out of the 20 days of the month I have to invent projects, assignments, or "jobs" for myself to do because there is just nothing to do! And there are days when creating something out of nothing requires so much energy, I sometime give up in defeat and watch the minute hand once again. Usually, I can keep myself somewhat occupied until the lunch hour, and then when I come back, I usually only have close to 2 hours left before Departure Time (the joys of being responsible for running the mail in are great, let me tell you) . But, unfortunately for me, the fates have conspired against me and all of the gainfully employed working population by creating the nastiest, most horrifying, disheartening enemy of us all that turns us into glaze-eyed clock watchers: MONDAYS.
The poison of Mondays starts seeping in Saturday afternoon, when I usually have the thought- "OH NO! In less than 48 hours, I will be back at my desk, getting paid to do nothing! And sitting there for 8 hours! AUGH!" I try to dismiss those thoughts as quickly as possible, because who wants a perfectly good Saturday afternoon ruined by the Monday beast? But the beast cannot be evaded for long. Because by 6:30 am, after a restful Sunday night's rest, the Monday Beast rudely forces its way back into plainsight. And the week begins.
The Monday Beast is so powerful in its de-enthusiazing ways, that work, which is usually bearable through some invention of my own, becomes all together doldrumatic. Looking up what exactly "doldrum" means (because heaven forbid I use a word inapproriately!), I found that it is indeed a word that is applicable to the Monday Blues we all experience: "A period of stagnation or slump. A period of depression or unhappy listlessness." (Dictionary.com) And so, fellow sufferers of the Monday Doldrums, I give you this ray of hope: We all experience it. You are not alone. So put in your Hairspray Soundtrack, buy a Twix, read a best-seller during your lunch break, and if worst comes to worst, day-dream that Gerard Butler will be waiting for you at home when you finally leave the Monday Doldrums of work , ready to sing to you the sweet lullabys of the Music of the Night.
The poison of Mondays starts seeping in Saturday afternoon, when I usually have the thought- "OH NO! In less than 48 hours, I will be back at my desk, getting paid to do nothing! And sitting there for 8 hours! AUGH!" I try to dismiss those thoughts as quickly as possible, because who wants a perfectly good Saturday afternoon ruined by the Monday beast? But the beast cannot be evaded for long. Because by 6:30 am, after a restful Sunday night's rest, the Monday Beast rudely forces its way back into plainsight. And the week begins.
The Monday Beast is so powerful in its de-enthusiazing ways, that work, which is usually bearable through some invention of my own, becomes all together doldrumatic. Looking up what exactly "doldrum" means (because heaven forbid I use a word inapproriately!), I found that it is indeed a word that is applicable to the Monday Blues we all experience: "A period of stagnation or slump. A period of depression or unhappy listlessness." (Dictionary.com) And so, fellow sufferers of the Monday Doldrums, I give you this ray of hope: We all experience it. You are not alone. So put in your Hairspray Soundtrack, buy a Twix, read a best-seller during your lunch break, and if worst comes to worst, day-dream that Gerard Butler will be waiting for you at home when you finally leave the Monday Doldrums of work , ready to sing to you the sweet lullabys of the Music of the Night.
Sunday, August 19, 2007
The Rediscovery of One's Self
The other night I was enjoying a night of giddy, innocent, school girl fun. I haven't done that in years. My co-conspirator, Megan, and I ran outside during a microburst rainstorm and subsequently got completely, totally, and undeniably drenched. And because there were big puddles surrounding us, and as we were already dripping wet, we went puddle splashing as well. It was most entertaining, given that we were both wearing flip flops and somewhat decent clothes. But when there are puddles and frolicking in the rain, those are just mere details to be overlooked.
When we had enough of jaunting outside (or rather, when the storm cleared and the sun came back out), we changed into pj's and curled up on those big comfy couches that are smushed in just the right way after years of being sat on. We had about an hour to kill before the premier of High School Musical 2 - the entire reason we were doing this shin-dig and probably the reason we were in such a mood. My friend pulled out a game called Table Topics
and we proceeded to play. This game is not a normal "I WIN" game, nor is it one for the weak-minded. It requires you to ask questions back and forth to each other, with both parties answering completely and honestly. At least, as honest as you want to be. It has the ridiculous types of questions that are completely nonsensical (and as such, right up my alley), such as your favorite part of Thanksgiving Dinner (the correct answer being the turkey sandwiches you make the day after!). Some questions delve into the deeper areas of who we are, what we want out of life, and so on. Simply thinking about these questions and formulating a single response sheds an enormous amount of insight into ourselves and the person playing with you. The best part of the game was seeing how alike Megan and I are, and we were able to have some good discussions based on these "get to know you" questions that someone put together and sold for $25.00 a case.
The funny thing is that while playing this innocent game, I realized a few things about myself. I think it was also influenced by the fact that my friend is a therapist with some singular insights, but whatever the catalyst, when High School Musical 2 started, I was still thinking about my answers and myself rather than Zac Efron's puppy dog eyes. No, it wasn't being egotistical and vain. It was just one of those moments where you see more about yourself than you had before. Like one of the blinders you put on to survive daily life and make youself believe that "all is well" gets taken off and you see.....hmmm....maybe there is some work to be done here. For example. What would your life be like if you could live without fear? My answer? Completely different. I am ruled by fear. Fear of failure. Fear of rejection. Fear of being alone. Fear of enclosed space. Fear of sharks. Some of them are funny fears, but some of them have shaped who I am today. And I don't necessarily like that. I remembered when I was a kid, I really didn't care what people thought about me. I would wear my leggins and jelly-shoes with my permed hair just because I wanted to. I was also the bossy girl who ordered the boys around the school yard and loved beating everyone to the right answer in school. That was me. And somehow, over the years, I have become enslaved to these fears that just drive me towards....I don't know what. But it's not something I'm proud of nor want to have continuing on in life. So it's time to change.
While I was musing over my life, another thing happened. A guy friend called and wanted to come over to my house. Problem was I wasn't home - and was about 30 minutes away from being home. I wanted to see him and talk, because he had a rough day and I just wanted to hug him and tell him life is gonna be okay. Unfortunately, this is the type of guy friend who I love being around and somewhere along the way, I made the unconscious decision that when he calls, I drop everything and run to his side - though I doubt he'd do the same for me. It's kind of like, you fit into his life wherever there's space and a few free minutes, but he is a major and influential part of your life. Unbalanced? Highly. Healthy? Not really. Hard to break out of? Most definitely. So we talked on the phone and I told him I did want to see him, but I was with my friend. I contemplated leaving and even asked her how much she would hate me if I bailed on her. Being the friend that she is, she understood, but I knew she would be disappointed in me if I ran off to him. What's more to the point, I knew I would be disappointed in myself if I gave in. I told him I was going to stay, and he was fine with that. He always is. That's just how it works. He said we would talk tomorrow, but of course he hasn't called. So through this all, I realized something else about myself. It's time to be ME and let him go. I can't lose myself in him and in being his friend. I think it's hard because part of me wants to be the uber supportive friend, but in doing that, I can't lose who I am to become this nebulous appendage to his person.
So what does this all have to do with the price of beans in Chile? Absolutely nothing, and yet everything. It's time I had a place to think outloud, to write all the thoughts that are swarming inside my head and threatening to take away my precious sleep time from being so overpowering, and somewhere where I can go to just be ME. I do go four-wheeling in the desert to lose myself in my thoughts. Or I go driving in my Ford Escape with the windows rolled down, jamming to my music, just to forget. But there has to be something more than forgetting or drowning out the thoughts and experiences. So, here I am blogging world. I am ready to rediscover who this Queen of Nonsense really is and I hope you'll revel in every new discovery, encourage every new experiment, and support me every step of the way, as I find out just how nonsensical life really can be.
When we had enough of jaunting outside (or rather, when the storm cleared and the sun came back out), we changed into pj's and curled up on those big comfy couches that are smushed in just the right way after years of being sat on. We had about an hour to kill before the premier of High School Musical 2 - the entire reason we were doing this shin-dig and probably the reason we were in such a mood. My friend pulled out a game called Table Topics
and we proceeded to play. This game is not a normal "I WIN" game, nor is it one for the weak-minded. It requires you to ask questions back and forth to each other, with both parties answering completely and honestly. At least, as honest as you want to be. It has the ridiculous types of questions that are completely nonsensical (and as such, right up my alley), such as your favorite part of Thanksgiving Dinner (the correct answer being the turkey sandwiches you make the day after!). Some questions delve into the deeper areas of who we are, what we want out of life, and so on. Simply thinking about these questions and formulating a single response sheds an enormous amount of insight into ourselves and the person playing with you. The best part of the game was seeing how alike Megan and I are, and we were able to have some good discussions based on these "get to know you" questions that someone put together and sold for $25.00 a case.The funny thing is that while playing this innocent game, I realized a few things about myself. I think it was also influenced by the fact that my friend is a therapist with some singular insights, but whatever the catalyst, when High School Musical 2 started, I was still thinking about my answers and myself rather than Zac Efron's puppy dog eyes. No, it wasn't being egotistical and vain. It was just one of those moments where you see more about yourself than you had before. Like one of the blinders you put on to survive daily life and make youself believe that "all is well" gets taken off and you see.....hmmm....maybe there is some work to be done here. For example. What would your life be like if you could live without fear? My answer? Completely different. I am ruled by fear. Fear of failure. Fear of rejection. Fear of being alone. Fear of enclosed space. Fear of sharks. Some of them are funny fears, but some of them have shaped who I am today. And I don't necessarily like that. I remembered when I was a kid, I really didn't care what people thought about me. I would wear my leggins and jelly-shoes with my permed hair just because I wanted to. I was also the bossy girl who ordered the boys around the school yard and loved beating everyone to the right answer in school. That was me. And somehow, over the years, I have become enslaved to these fears that just drive me towards....I don't know what. But it's not something I'm proud of nor want to have continuing on in life. So it's time to change.
While I was musing over my life, another thing happened. A guy friend called and wanted to come over to my house. Problem was I wasn't home - and was about 30 minutes away from being home. I wanted to see him and talk, because he had a rough day and I just wanted to hug him and tell him life is gonna be okay. Unfortunately, this is the type of guy friend who I love being around and somewhere along the way, I made the unconscious decision that when he calls, I drop everything and run to his side - though I doubt he'd do the same for me. It's kind of like, you fit into his life wherever there's space and a few free minutes, but he is a major and influential part of your life. Unbalanced? Highly. Healthy? Not really. Hard to break out of? Most definitely. So we talked on the phone and I told him I did want to see him, but I was with my friend. I contemplated leaving and even asked her how much she would hate me if I bailed on her. Being the friend that she is, she understood, but I knew she would be disappointed in me if I ran off to him. What's more to the point, I knew I would be disappointed in myself if I gave in. I told him I was going to stay, and he was fine with that. He always is. That's just how it works. He said we would talk tomorrow, but of course he hasn't called. So through this all, I realized something else about myself. It's time to be ME and let him go. I can't lose myself in him and in being his friend. I think it's hard because part of me wants to be the uber supportive friend, but in doing that, I can't lose who I am to become this nebulous appendage to his person.
So what does this all have to do with the price of beans in Chile? Absolutely nothing, and yet everything. It's time I had a place to think outloud, to write all the thoughts that are swarming inside my head and threatening to take away my precious sleep time from being so overpowering, and somewhere where I can go to just be ME. I do go four-wheeling in the desert to lose myself in my thoughts. Or I go driving in my Ford Escape with the windows rolled down, jamming to my music, just to forget. But there has to be something more than forgetting or drowning out the thoughts and experiences. So, here I am blogging world. I am ready to rediscover who this Queen of Nonsense really is and I hope you'll revel in every new discovery, encourage every new experiment, and support me every step of the way, as I find out just how nonsensical life really can be.
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