It's Me, Andrea

Fly me to the moon, Newt

2012-01-26T14:42:00.001-07:00

If there's one thing a crazy person is good for - it's inspirational cut and paste artwork. Am I right?

“Speaking to a yet another massive crowd in Cocoa Beach, on Florida’s space coast, Gingrich ditched his stump speech and offered his vision of an ambitious new space program. ”By the end of my second term,” Gingrich said, prompting the crowd to erupt in applause, “we will have the first permanent base on the moon and it will be American.”

When he was in the House, he authored a bill that would allow a lunar colony to apply for statehood once it reached 13,000 residents.

I met a gentleman in the audience who told me he had worked on Gingrich’s Congressional staff and helped with the bill, which was called a Northwest Territory Ordinance for Space. The man told me the bill would have allowed space colonies with over 20,000 people to apply for recognition as a US territory.”

VIA

I think the scariest part of this whole thing is he may actually have a chance. Really? THIS is who we see leading the free world? A vote for Obama (or Romney, or Paul, or Santorum) is a vote AGAINST moon colonies. So think through that... think through it very carefully.

Newt or Schrute?

2012-01-26T13:56:00.003-07:00

VIA:

http://news.yahoo.com/blogs/ticket/office-actor-rainn-wilson-finally-admits-looks-newt-174532667.html

Reckless Abandon

2012-01-26T09:36:00.000-07:00

Usual breakfast

Today's breakfast

I live on the edge.

Why I don't blog like a regular blogger

2012-01-24T16:15:00.001-07:00

So come to find, I don't blog like a regular blogger. What does that even MEAN?!?! Well, I guess it means I'm either a non-conformist or completely out of touch. I'm going with the latter on that one seeing as I'm usually the last to know anything (see: not knowing Amy Winehouse had died until a few months ago or figuring out that DIY means Do It Yourself, like, a month ago) or last to jump on already brimmingly full cultural bandwagons (see: any popular TV show in general, capri's (which I still refuse), and Twitter. I don't tweet. I don't understand the point of tweets. And I think it's weird when people say, "I read this tweet..." or "I tweeted" You... WHAT?!?! Sick!). Oh, you mean what is a regular blogger and how am I not it? Whoops. Sheepish grin.

I only noticed my irregular bloggery because I've finally (FINALLY) noticed a pattern with most bloggers I like to read/peruse. Or just most bloggers in general I suppose. I've noted before, I only follow 4 or 5 blogs fairly consistently and mostly, it's because I can endure their writing. Nay, it's because I actually ENJOY their writing. And who follows blogs because of the WRITING?? I'm going with slim to no one considering everyone thinks they're a writer and only about 5.25% actually include words in their blog entries. And abut 4.653% of THOSE can construct a meaningful paragraph... that even KNOW how to "paragraph." Yes, I just made "parapgraph" a verb; "She paragraphed as if each thought she had was transitory yet related..." If I were merely enduring what I was reading, then you can be certain I would've stopped that ridiculousness ages ago - though I'm sure still well behind everyone else who stopped enduring dangling participles and blatant neglect of the Oxford comma. I won't give it up I tell you! The flag is red, white, and blue! Not red.... .... .... whiteandblue! Shudder.

There's also the blogs I like to look at because I am inspired by their creativity (cough, Roxy Marj, cough). In fact, I will go so far as to say "dangle your participle!" because your modge-podge would have even Monet shopping for sponges. You modge podge with sponges right? These things:

Anyway...

Here are some patterns of bloggery I've noticed are fairly consistent (i.e. "regular) with most high profile-type blogs that I rarely if ever do on my own blog. Why? Most of it has to do with pure unadulterated laziness. Oh, and the narcissistic concept that all you need is my writing to enjoy my blog. Ha ha ha! Riiiiiight.

1. DIY projects (that's Do It Yourself... to the slow person). I don't think I've ever been described as "crafty." Creative perhaps. I can plan one hell of a themed party! But crafty? I've recently dipped my proverbial toe into craft-land and find I very much enjoy it. Never the less - there's no bloggery about it. It just seems to produce a useful "How-to" list complete with pictures and steps seems like doubling the work of an already painstaking craft. I MADE a Halloween banner. What more do you WANT?!? Figure it our your damn self, Sherlock.

2. Trips. Alright -I HAVE blogged about trips and I enjoy writing about them. But they have to be rather significant trips... or really trips at all. I find a lot of bloggers discuss their recent jaunt to Trader Joe's (not in Utah, so how can I even blog about that? Huh! How?!?), or their weekend sabbatical in "insert location 20 minute away from their home town" and though I like reading about these things, I don't blog about them often. Maybe I should, "Today, I while buying Tostitos as Smith's, I saw a frozen coyote in a shopping cart."

Aside: so that's an actual story that happened to my brother at the Price, Wal-Mart. I mean, of COURSE it happened at a Price, Wal-Mart. Maybe if I start blogging about interesting things I will tell you that story. But it is not this day.

3. Products. I don't mention products or make-ups or tasty things I've eaten and so must YOU or things I've recently tried and regretted. I probably should. I mean, for the 2 or 3 people who glance over my blog, at least they'd get an opinion about a product they've been considering from someone who has no clout. And I do want to help people! It's the philanthropist in me. Here's a start:

I like the scoops myself as it allows you to balance your salsa to chip ratio much more effectively. I'm also a pico-de-gallo fan more so than your basic salsas. I like the chunks without the runs. There's clearly a 12 year old boy joke in there somewhere. Poop allusions are funny.

4. Pictures. And that's basically what it all boils down to. Pictures. People like to see them; and I don't ever take them. So I guess I mean "real life" pictures. That's because you can't google those, "Me eating Tostitos scoops" and get what you expected. You can, however, google "Daniel Craig is sexy" and have a myriad of options right at your finger tips. Mmmm... Daniel Craig at your fingertips. Sure, you'll get a blurry phone photo of Zooey or little Carter now and again I guess. That's as real life as I get. I think if I added real life pictures to whatever nonsense I attempt to describe, it might help me look more bloggery. But then again, I am an Ar-teest! And my art is in my writing. Why would I muddle such beauty with something as silly as pictures? I ASK YOU!

5. I also don't have kids. That's the old fail safe blog post isn't it? I've not blogged in awhile, so here, look at these 93 still shots of my kid smearing carrot puree all over his face. Riveting. That creates a nice irregular bloggery hole in my blog world I'd say. One I hope to never fill. Not because I don't want kids, cause I do, but because carrot puree makes me gag.

6. Cooking. Do I cook? Yeah, sure I do. In fact, I've been subsisting on a vat of homemade chicken noodle soup for a solid week now. HOMEMADE! CHICKEN NOODLE! I also bake. I'd say I bake a lot. Over that same chicken noodle week I've been ceremoniously supplementing said meal with a delicious chocolate crunch brownie. But just like the crafts, I don't care to document the experience in painstaking technical writing complete with attempts at "arty-food" pictures.

BRIGHT IDEA ALERT! AKA RIDICULOUS TANGENT!

Perhaps I could blog about the brownie making process as if the brownie were an actual character in a story. Example:

As Hershey Cocoa rested comfortably divided evenly among 3 Tablespoons, awaiting her turn in the rotating bowl of doom that was at this moment creaming together 2 sticks of butter, 2 cups of sugar, and 1 teaspoon vanilla, she glanced over at the oven temperature and noted it read 350 degrees respectively. She usually tried not to do this as it was like looking into the furnace of her own death - but this time - she looked - along with the 1 cup flour and 4 eggs waiting in line with her. The flour glanced at her with resignation and the eggs, well, the eggs just grinned and clucked among themselves. Eggs. They were always so smug what with their white shells and gooey centers. They never even see the inevitable coming. No, they just fluff and preen and coagulate the rest of us together - patting themselves on the back for creating a sense of "community" among the other ingredients. It's not until we're all spread evenly in a greased 9x10 glass cake pan and starting to feel the sting of 25-30 minutes or until the center isn't gooey, do they start to panic.

What do you think?... Eh?.... EH?!??!.... erp.

So that's what I DON'T blog about that makes me a not so regular blogger. What I DO blog about is contained basically to a few random trips, commentary on social issues, Zooey and/or Carter, self-reflection, life lessons, and random things I find funny, inspirational, or addicting (see: Downton Abbey... X-Files... Tostitos Multigrain Scoops). I also enjoy a good lament or rant once in awhile.

I'm glad I figured this out - that I am not a "regular" kind of blogger. Why? Shrug. So I could irregularly blog about it. Oh snap. Did I mention I like to blog in "sass" and "irony." Yep, just made those writing genres. What of it.

Go. See. This. Immediately.

2012-01-23T09:11:00.002-07:00

An incredible movie experience. I will see it again and again.

Grocery Shopping When I'm Hungry

2012-01-21T12:11:00.000-07:00

Alas...

Miss Representation - You can't be what you can't see

2012-01-19T13:36:00.001-07:00

*Note, some scenes are somewhat graphic. Thought you deserved a warning!

Last night, I had the privilege of viewing this film at the Utah Museum of Fine Art (UMFA) with a handful of friends. It premiered at Sundance last year, and since then I’ve heard nothing but excellent feedback about the issues it addresses. I scoured their website, tracking where they were showing it next, and was very happy when I discovered the College of Social and Behavioral Science at the University of Utah was hosting a screening.

Naturally with a documentary addressing equity issues, particularly that of women as they are portrayed in the media and how that, in turn, effects gender parity in the United States, one must mull over the issues and concepts for awhile. Particularly, I wanted to reconcile what I believe are the innate gender differences and dare I say “roles” of women as a fundamental unit of society as well as the natural born nurturers, comforters, and champions of family, children’s rights, and social justice with the call for women to break through the administrative glass ceiling and become powerful voices in leadership, commerce, and business. I feel that these two concepts of womanhood and ability are complimentary to each other though difficult to balance.

However, I also feel that extreme feminism has eroded the role of men as community contributor, providers, and dare I say protectors? We can all agree that any stance, even in such arenas as social justice, freedom, and democracy, taken to the outer extremes becomes not harbingers of peaceable solutions and the equitable pursuit of happiness, but instead ignites greater tyranny, contention, and loss of individuality. Fanaticism and extremity in any respect is dangerous. That said, the movie was somewhat extreme in my mind in a few respects. That's to be expected. A rallying cry is a yell and not a whisper.

I also want to say; I have always had issue with the idea that society and the media both view being a homemaker is somehow not living up to your womanly potential in a modern world. That if you are not working an 8-5, that you are not only dim-witted or lack depth, but that you are somehow hampering the feminist movement simply by keeping house and raising children. Thus, I think it’s important to show the immeasurable value a homemaker contributes to her home, her community, and the future of the country. In fact, I would go so far as to say that it is good mothering (whether that is full time in the home or not) that will make or break a nation on every possible level.

I also have the perception that being a feminist is construed as being a “man-hater.” That if you claim to value women’s rights and participate in the women’s movement, (or run for President of the United States or hold leadership positions in government at ALL), you are therefore a man-hater as well. I look towards the day when claiming to be a feminist is not also claiming to be a man-hater. Wanting to forward the cause of the historically disadvantaged is not inversely a cause to disadvantage or loathe another group. I also feel that claiming to be a feminists means you must not desire to fulfill a role of wife and mother. I say Feminists Are Mothers and Wives too! I am part of a religion that refers to a married couple as companions. Companion. Partner. Match. Someone you have equally yoked yourself with to trudge through this journey called life. Though many would view my religion as “traditionally patriarichal” in the sense it somehow does not allow equitable expectations, treatment, or recognition of its woman members and prefers them submissive, quiet, and complacent. I say to YOU, you have never been more wrong. I recommend watching a single session of General Conference and observing how the male leaders of my church rever, respect, and adore the women of the church. And they adore them in a way that is valuable, uplifting, and beautiful. The sanctity of women in my religion is ingrained in its every principle and precept. Here’s a good example: LDS Women are Incredible.

ANYWAY! All that said…

The film, Miss Representation, focused very particularly on the media influence of the societal perception of women and how that perception has hindered the cause for equity and to just plain be taken seriously. I ardently agree that the overt sexualization of women and the unrealistic and entirely unattainable standard of “beauty” portrayed through and enabled by the media that not only objectifies women and therefore devalues their contribution to society, but communicates to the rising generation of women that their ambitions and goals to become leaders in their community is not valuable to a hyper-sexualized society. That a woman’s worth lies solely within the length of her hair, the shape of her body, and the plumpness of her breasts is reinforced daily through an onslaught of mediums including billboards, television shows, movies, advertisements, clothing stores, and even news broadcasts. And because the perceived societal promulgation of woman’s value as purely aesthetic is so ingrained in our collective psyche, when a woman rises to a position of leadership, she is labeled a bitch; whereas if a man rises to positions of leadership, he is ambitious. A woman in leadership is not heralded or critiqued because of her stance on policy, but rather, her pant suits or hairstyle. Even when looking up pictures of powerful women’s in the United States and beyond on Google image, the “suggestions” for my search were “Katie Couric, sexy… Ann Curry, hot…. Michelle Obama, hot… Hillary Clinton, nut crusher…”

Face the Facts; Did you know?

“…The United States is still 90th in the world for women in national legislatures, women hold only 3% of clout positions in mainstream media, and 65% of women and girls have disordered eating behaviors.”

I repeat: women hold 3% of clout positions in mainstream media. Curious, isn't it? That the media's positions of clout is held by 97% by men. Think about that.

This is just one small factoid of many presented throughout the film that adds credence to the claims that though women have made significant strides in achieving equity and credibility in social and political forums, there is clearly much more that needs to be done; and that includes addressing the role the media plays in that perception. In fact, I would go so far as to suggest that the media is responsible for the stagnation of women’s movement in the last 5 years with its skewed and incredibly damaging portrayals of women in the media. And the media IS incredibly powerful. So what’s to be done?

My favorite part of the film was a call for women to become mentors and support mechanisms to each other. Marie Wilson, Founder and President Emeritus of The White House Project, stated, “You can’t be what you can’t see.” The media is the most pervasive medium through which society, through which women, integrate social expectations and perceptions, how will they ever find value outside of “sexy, hot, and hips” if the media is their only window? Through us. Through the women who have had these experiences and understand the pressure, the internal conflicts, and the personal anguish that forces us to have eating disorders, cut ourselves, be depressed or anxious, nip, tuck, pluck, and bake our bodies to societal perfection. Of course, I believe that we need to express our femininity and beauty and not hide those qualities and unique attributes that make us women. I do not want women to become men. I want women to find their worth and value beyond the realm of the aesthetic and create a more holistic perception of a woman who is valued for her intellectual, spiritual, emotional, AND physical beauty. A confident woman, no matter her dress or hairstyle, is a beautiful woman.

As for me and my own experiences. Can I tell you how many times I've been told I'm not married (oh heaven forbid ;)) YET, because I am "intimidating." Intimidating. Or how many meetings I've been a part of where I've been interrupted by a man or talked over or not even addressed as part of the group? I remember thinking in 5th grade that I had "fat thighs." In 5th grade! I've had friends with eating disorders, depression, rooted bitterness, resentment, and anguish simply because they were not meeting a completely unattainable standard the media has passed off as "the norm." Something must change.

Here is the website: http://www.missrepresentation.org/

Find a screening near you.

Go see it.
Be the change!

How I spent my 3 day weekend...

2012-01-16T21:34:00.001-07:00

After many a very smart and insightful person recommend I "get into" Downton Abbey, I finally dusted off the old Netflix queue and sat down to watch and episode or two. Well, as you might imagine, today I rounded out the season premier of Season 2 and thus, will be caught up after viewing episode 2 tonight or tomorrow. A well spent weekend I'd say!

And really...

Why is this show so completely excellent? Is it because it's a Jane Austen novel strung out into a television series? Yes. There could be something to that. Though you are privy to my deepest darkest English majoring secret, aren't you? I've not read one sentence of the famed Ms. Austen and it has nothing to do with anything but I just plain haven't. Put that in your pipe and smoke it. What's more, I really enjoy the book-to-movie adaptations of her works, particularly (and very well ahead of - gasp gasp - the excruciating 6-8 zillion hour BBC Pride and Prejudice) Sense and Sensibility. So even though it seems that I somewhat fall short in the Austen-reading and even more shamefully, employ the phrase "why read it when I've seen the movie a million times" when asked if I'm ever GOING to read an Austen, I AM watching and adoring and slightly obsessing over Downton Abbey. And that means SOMETHING doesn't it? Sure it does.

Millions of Dollars.. Dollars for Me

2012-01-11T13:01:00.001-07:00

I keep an Excel sheet of my monthly budget. Nerd alert! I like to be organized, alright? Nothing wrong with that (as she pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose with a juicy sniff and look of disdain). And through the years, this little budget of mine has clearly fluctuated. Going from being a poor student to a poor working person has clearly ebbed and flowed in most respects. I mean, 5 years ago I was sharing a room, going to school, scoring church buildings and school activities for the chance at a free meal, driving a blubbery car that ran on a prayer, and waiting for movies to hit the dollar theater so I could finally afford to see something on the big screen. Well, times have changed… slightly. I had less expenses as a student and have more expenses now as a working adult, but all is well. The blubbery car finally blubbered out and I am now paying for a 2006 Hyundai. Nothing fancy, but very dependable and I admit, I felt very proud of myself the day I said “I can now afford a car!” My rent has gone up simply because I now have my own room in a great location in a lovely little house. I buy vegetables now – and that’s a little more expensive than your basic boxed Mac & Cheese (though don’t get me wrong, I buy that too! Nom). I’ve been able to travel more – which makes me extremely happy. Ever since I was little I’ve wanted to see the world! All of it! And I’ve started accomplishing this rather hefty goal with modest trips here and there. Life’s trudging along for me it seems. Though I wouldn't mind it trudging a liiiiittle bit faster in the financial sphere of things. Eh? Eh.

So yes… there’s been some transition. An elevation of lifestyle if you will. I’m really starting to ease into some of the comforts of life: like vegetables and dependable cars and trips to Charleston, SC. Of course, there are stresses and a few more bills that go along with that as well… one big old bill called STUDENT LOANS to get specific. I chant in my head “investment… investment… investment” and I’m almost starting to believe it!

Anyway...

As I was budgeting out next month I thought, what would I do with a million dollars? It’s the million dollar question! Ba dum chi! I’ll be here all day! Truth be told, what I’d do with a million dollars today is quite different (some might say boooorrrring) than perhaps what I would’ve said 5 years ago. I guess that could be a good thing too. I don’t want to be the same person I was when I was 23 just as I don’t want to be the same person I am at 28 when I turn 33. Hopefully that all connotes a forward movement. I always want to be moving forward – even if its slow and deliberate – it must be forward.

So here’s what I’d do with a million dollars as a 28 year old:

Pay off student loans. BAM! After that, who cares!!?!?
Pay off the last year of my car (that’s pay off the Hyundai, not buy a new car. I like my Hyundai!)
Buy a modest but lovely house in the Sugarhouse area (say… $250,000-$300,000)
Take a trip
Pay for a couple of friends to come with me on said trip (such a good friend!)
Pay for my brothers college education
Pay for my PhD anywhere I want to go (and that will let me in... psh)
Donate a chunk to the perpetual education fund (double nerd alert!)
Shop a bit (Of course!)
Save the rest

And that’s as exciting as my million dollars gets. I guess a million dollars doesn’t seem like a lot these days, but I could pay for all of the above and STILL have a pretty decent chunk of change left over. In fact, if I crunch those numbers loosely, I’d still have a about $300,000 left. That’s pretty legit. And to think that celebrities and superstar athletes make eight times that in one year. I read the other night that Julia Roberts gets $20 million/movie. $20 a movie! Can you imagine? I don’t know if I could even begin to SPEND $20 million. But if anyone’s willing to let me try, I wouldn’t say no.

I guess what this list tells me, is I really don’t need anything fancy or extravagant. And as material prowess is concerned, I really don’t (see: Hyundai and modest house). If I could make enough each year to travel to some cool places once in awhile, buy a lovely home, and shop at Anthropology (hurray!), I’d be set! What more does a girl need than some awesome traveling experiences, a place of her own to lounge about with her cat(s), and a beautiful dress to flounce around in? I submit to you, not much!

So what about you? What would YOU do with a million dollars? Yeeeeah… just 1 million.

Something to blow your mind - #1

2012-01-09T16:23:00.000-07:00

James Franco was in Never Been Kissed. Rufalicious!!

MIND BLOW!!

Running on the Road to Resolution Success!

2012-01-03T17:01:00.000-07:00

So!

It's Day 1 (remember how yesterday didn't count as "work-on-resolutions-day" because it was a Holiday) of working on my resolutions and I've made a very big step in the process. I don't like to waste time. When I set a goal - by golly I'm going to accomplish it! Why, just last year after setting my "gum chewing" goal I immediately committed to never leaving the grocery store without a pack of Orbtiz Sweet Mint gum lovingly purchased and deposited into my purse. And I never did... mostly... and look where I am now! Setting and accomplishing worthy goals left and right... and with the sweet minty freshness that is my chewing gum addiction.

Therefore, I'd like to report a few steps I've taken MERELY in the last day to ensure that my success is as resounding as last year.

First, I bought prenatal vitamins and have taken two already! TWO! How's that for accomplishing goals!! Wait, what does this have to do with my 2012 resolution list where the words "baby" or "marriage" or "dating" makes not even a sliver of an assumption of an appearance? Well duh. Growing my hair like Zooey Deschanel of course. Snort. All you sexually active people think YOU get to take all the good pills like birth control or prenatal vitamins? Get off your high horse. We prudish single types can take them too.

I have high hopes. My roomie J told me that she had been taking them and had noticed a difference in hair growth and texture. THEN, while hanging out with Sister-in-Law on Saturday, SHE said that she'd noticed her nails and hair growing faster as well. Granted, she just had a wee one (what's that? Do I have another PICTURE? OF COURSE I DO!)...

....and she said that though she had cut 6 inches off her (thick, gorgeous, shiny, dark) hair not a few months ago, it had already almost grown out to its original length. With such testimonials, how could I NOT go to my local Target and by the store brand prenatal vitamins for $9.49 / 100 count bottle? I had to.

And now I have visions of my hair looking much like the below come Spring.

For reference. Here is my hair more or less how it is now. It's a little longer now actually but you get the idea. Thus, when it looks like Ms. DesChanels, my accomplishment will seem all the more worthy of praise. Praise not in the Nobel Prize sense maybe... but in the "that must've been really annoying to grow out" sense. Even as we speak I'm getting all mulletty. Ew. All for the cause.

Recap... Resolute... Same old same old

2012-01-02T22:22:00.006-07:00

I can't help myself. It's the beginning of a New Year and I must make some resolutions! I usually find New Years resolutions antiquated and to be frank, pointless. Bah-humbug! It's not that I don't think setting goals isn't a valuable exercise; on the contrary. I think setting goals for yourself and then working to achieve them is a very good way to improve your life, and improve your self-esteem. I think setting goals is also an excellent way to organize and utilize "life" in its best, most efficient, and most effective form. I've just taken the magic out of accomplishment haven't I? Well I'm a rather formulaic sort of person and if you haven't learned that by now, you're not very observant! Are you? ARE YOU!?!?! YOU MORON!

Woah... just kidding.

Anyway...

Goals good. New Years resolutions... antiquated and pointless. But never the less, here I am with the rest of you billions of suckers who have justified the past 6 months of laziness, gluttony, bad attitudes, and expired gym memberships because you might as well not start anything new, self-motivating, or good-for-you until January 1st. It's the reason we all gain 20lbs starting weeks before Halloween all the way through December 31st (Or January 1st if it lands on a weekend - am I right? You know I am) because you're so totally planning on starting that ambitious work-out regime as part of your New Years resolutions; conveniently forgetting last years same justifications which prompted the same goal-mongering only to have everything fall to shambles by mid-February. D'oh well... no point in trying again until after the holidays anyway! YOU MORON!

Woah... just kidding.

Amongst my bitter mumblings about pointless traditions, I also took the time to look back on last years resolution to see what goals I had forgotten mid-February 2011 and which ones were worth resurrecting this year for inevitable failure. But what ho? What did I find? Well my friends! I was shocked to discover that in fact, I am a picture of resolution success circa 2011! Turns out, I accomplished 99% of the resolutions I set last year! ME! I did it!!! Check it out, morons!

Resolutions from 2011 - Mostly Success!

1. Graduate - Summer 2011. You will then refer to me as Master Cox.
Result: Success! I graduated end of summer 2011 and spent several posts thereafter referring to myself as Master Cox. Well done! Pat on the back!As an aside, I thus entered a "Lazy Period" where I refused to do most anything nor feel guilty about my slothfulness as a reward for milking my brains dry for two whole years. Needless to say, I've never been so lazy and felt so good about it. However, I can tell the "Lazy Period" is coming to a close and I'm going to have to start making something of myself soon. Boo.

2. Travel - anything that takes me outside the state of Utah... or inside the state really so's long as I haven't been there before...
Result: Success again!! In 2011 I had the privilege of going to Charleston, South Carolina as well as Portland, Canon Beach, and Astoria Oregon, and Forks, Port Angeles, and Seattle Washington. I also ate at a Texas Roadhouse! All places I'd never been before! That's two gold stars so far!

3. Eat less, exercise more.
Result: A little from column A... and a little from column B. In fact, I'd say that I did the opposite of that until I graduated from school. August through present day, however, I have been instilling this goal into my daily routine a great deal more... well... the exercise part. The eating less part was only true because I substituted SOME cookies, brownies, cakes, and all assortments of holiday goodies for A LOT of sensible good-for-me foods. Still, half a star for both attempting to exercise while in the throes of school and then a prompt upswing in said exercise when it was over. I guess the Lazy Period was mainly brain lazy. We shan't speak of the cookies.

4. Make more money - legally
Result: Fail. I made more money but it was illegal. Oh ho ho! Just kidding. I make the same. Good thing I got a Master's degree, eh? Fist shake.

5. Turn 28
Result: Success! Did and done did! Ha! Nothing was going to keep me from accomplishing that little goal.... even if I wanted to fail! Blasted biological certainties and their inevitability.

6. Alright... run a half marathon. Let's give it another go. Why not?
Result: Fail. Blame = School + Lazy Period.

7. Go to movies sometimes
Result: Success! In fact, Internet, I've seen three movies within the last... 10 days! How's the for spanking that goals blue! We're painting the roses red! We're painting the roses red! No? Ahem... proceeding.

8. Wear skirts
Result: Resounding success! Weekly... nay... almost daily. I'm a skirt girl. I set myself up for success and succeed. Double gold star and a chocolate chip cookie!

9. Chew gum
Result: Success! Check and check. Through this goal I have found my preference for Orbits Sweet Mint. Accomplishing goals opens up doors you never thought possible.

10. Go on one date in 2011..
Result: Success! In fact, I'd say I went on a grundle (word?) of dates in 2011. See what you can accomplish if you put your mind to it? I might have even gone on TWO dates with ONE person. Shooting for the stars everyone.

So how's THAT for being a super goal-achieving achiever of goals? Pretty stinking GOOD! In fact, I'm feeling so accomplished right now, perhaps I'll just set a bunch more goals! I will call them "Resolutions 2012!" How about that?!?! MORONS!!!!

Resolutions 2012

1. Come-up with more creative titles for my lists

2. Stop calling my Internet friend(s) morons.

3. Run that *&!%$!! half marathon or stop setting it as a goal

4. Grow my hair out to my shoulders but keep the bangs... something rather Zooey DeChanel-esque

5. Set better goals for self-improvement than "growing my hair out"

6. Travel to a few more places I've never been. I'm loathe to name specific places as I don't like to limit my myself - but I'm going to go against my better judgement and throw Washington DC out to the universe.

7. Work on that novel. And I mean really work on that novel. Set a writing schedule, find your happy writing place, and just do the thing!

8. Make the Summer of 2012 the most campingest, outdoorsy, non-schooled summer I've ever experienced! I'm talking perma-camp fire hair smell, ridiculously sun bespeckled cheeks, and pic after pic of me in a rustic all be it super cute hiking outfit infront of many mountains, forests, streams, canyons, and critters! (Future disclaimer: Zooey counts as a critter)

9. Now that I've slain the Diet Coke dragon (applause! It's true... the Diet Coke and I... well... I finally broke it off for good several months ago. No regrets!), lets see if we can't nip the old Sugar Fairy in the bud too. Reduce. Reduce. Reduce.

10. End Lazy Period and do stuff

11. Come on, get happy. By happy I mean content. By content I mean grateful. And by grateful I mean humble.

So what do you think? Pretty good list, eh? And perhaps a titch more ambitious than last year (see: Chew gum and Wear Skirts). But I'm positive I will likely succeed at most (see: half marathon doomed for failure) of these goals during the wonderous year - 2012. So just in case you were a big fat resolution failure for 2011 and were considering opting out of resoluting for 2012 like I almost did, don't be a MORON* and set a few anyway. I did. And as some advice, DO as I did and aim low so there's really no way you can screw up.

*As January 2nd is clearly considered part of the holiday-time and thus merely 2011 "leavins"; real life doesn't start until tomorrow and THEN will all afore mentioned goals be promptly instituted. And off we go.

Profound thought #1: We are not beings meant to be acted upon

2011-12-28T15:53:00.003-07:00

Merry Christmas! Let’s start with that, shall we? Why not?!? Can I tell you the unbridled holiday merriment that infected my listless soul this year? I was a regular Miss Holiday Cheer! And I say that without guile or cynicism. I hung holly, turned on the lights on the tree every single day (which we had day 1 of December thank you VERY much) made a Christmas banner, listened to Christmas music until snowballs shot out of my ears, baked cookies, wrapped presents, went to holiday parties, and have generally been soaking in holiday splendor since Black Friday. Why the sudden onslaught of yuletide cheer this year? I think it has something to do with the fact I opted-out last year (and also because of the below! You thought you could get away without a picture of my little guy? Think again!)

Yes, opted-out. I went on a cruise to the Mexican Riviera. Why? Well that’s just a lot of blather about wanting to not deal with "that" or face "this" again and mainly – school had usurped the holiday anyway so I figured I might as well add my on usurpation too. Share the load. So I usurped on a beach in Cabo. An excellent decision. In fact, it’s made my “opt-in” Christmas all the more merry as I’ve demonstrated above. I guess it’s true what they say, you only appreciate something once its gone. Shame, that. But never the less… next year I’m planning to opt-out to Costa Rica so the next opt-in will be as full and lovely and magical as this year was.

And now for the profound thought…

I feel that every year of my existence tends to have a theme; or themes a guess. I feel our lives are sliced and diced into sections, experiences, yes even categories and reference logs. In fact, I’d say the media could be partly responsible for this OCD tendency to categorize and organize things… creating order out of chaos.How many books have you seen displayed in bookstore windows exclaiming "For the Mind, Body, and Spirit!" as if ourselves are divided into these various categories like a tossed salad rather than a gooey melting pot. Ordering our lives into sections and then creating benchmarks make improvement and organization less daunting, "This month! I shall work on "the mind!"" and proceed to create a list of ambitious activities and goals to help create a Zenful state of mind which will likely include lists of classical texts, a subscription to Scientific America, and signing up for that Spanish class you've been meaning to take. It helps to order things. After all, we are naturally beings of order and fear chaos; that is to say, we fear the unpredictable, uncontrollable, and heaven forbid the unclean. At least, we don’t thrive in it… the “uns”. Not even nature herself, the most organized of mass organisms, permits chaos for too long. She must order it. Make sense of it. Categorize it. We thrive in established patterns! Even those of you reading this right now claiming “spontinaty is my creed! I answer to no schedules! A pox on organization!” still appreciate an organized shoe rack, your breakfast at 8:30am, and a cup of tea before bed. So take that spontaneity! No more is your disaster of an apartment spontaneous, rather, it’s just disgusting and you and I both know a little order out of that chaos would do everyone a world of good. You're a closet organizationalist or you're just plain unnatural. Pick your poison.

Back to themes and years having them...

The particular theme of this year I’d like to discuss has to do with a valuable lesson I've learned. That’s what I mean when I say “every year of my existence tends to have a theme.” In short, there is a lesson I am to learn each year, philosophical, spiritual, existential, however you’d like to categorize it (and you will categorize it! Stop pretending). I don’t choose the lesson, rather, it chooses me. All I need to do is recognize it. In fact, I don’t even know I’m learning it until I start to notice a pattern, some order in the chaos, pieces of my life that come to form a complete and circuitous whole. In short, each year I hope to have progressed as a human being in some significant way; ideally, a positive way. For if it were a “negative” change, it would in fact be a digression. And no one aspires to digress, rather, is awakened to it on some cold December evening when you look back and realize, “I’m not even where I was before… but somehow less.” A miserable realization that is. In fact, that's almost as bad as realizing you've not moved forward NOR backward but have stayed perfectly stagnate in every way. At least with the other two options there's movement. Thus, I find stagnating slightly worse than digressing. Anyway, I digress (ba dum chi!).

My lesson/theme this year: we are beings meant to act, not to be acted upon. I think my schooling over the past few years primed me for this valuable lesson in that there was extensive discussion on the idea of accountability. To Webster!

Accountability (Accountable): 1. the state of being accountable, liable, or answerable 2. Subject to the obligation to report, explain, or justify something; responsible; answerable.

I find the avoidance of accountability to be the road most traveled by the majority of society. To me, accountability is intricately connected to choice. And what always follows choice is consequence. You must be held accountable for your decision, which makes decision-making risky in some respects. Therefore, the very indecisive are also the incredibly risk averse. It is risky to make choices. It is even riskier when in choosing, you may be called up to be accountable for them. You must justify them. You must stand by them. And in this way, I find that although we perceive that we have very little control over the elements around us, we do have control over ourselves, our reactions, our actions, and our inaction's. We choose to respond. We choose to be effected. We choose each day our own state of mind. Even in not choosing, we are indeed choosing. Action through inaction. There's no avoiding it.

Thus, herein lies the rub. I find that in most instances, we avoid accountability. We don't want to commit ourselves to something and thus, we opt-out. We choose not to choose and in not choosing, we assume we are not answerable to whatever consequences may follow. We prefer to let others make decisions – we choose to be acted upon – and then allow events to unfold as they will all the while knowing that if things should unfold negatively, well heavens we had no hand in it! We made no choice! We’ve chosen apathy instead of agency and feel in this we are safe.We have let life happen to us, rather than leading a life.

Likewise, blaming environmental circumstances that are justly out of our control (or seemingly so) for our bad attitudes, and apathy, missed deadlines, errant accusations, is something I’ve noticed happens more often than not as of late. Broken homes, irresponsible parenting, societal oversights, unrealistic expectations, all of these things are circumstances that some may think force us into a reaction or state of mind or choice and therefore, we cannot be answerable to the choices we make within these less than ideal circumstances.Oh blame you scapegoat for cowards! I believe to exclaim in the throes of trial, “I had no choice!” is false. There is ALWAYS a choice. The devil never "makes" you do anything. He simply, offers an option, and you either take it... or leave it. Thus it is with undesirable circumstance. You can internalize it, blame it for your life of mediocrity or hardship, or you can leave it for what it is and make an attempt anyway. People who sleep on dirt floors in Madagascar find reason to smile, can we not find reason to rejoice despite our own extremity?

Circumstance, particularly in a democratic society we are privileged to participate in, does not replace nor control choice. I also feel “circumstances” are more controllable than we would like to believe. It’s easy to let things unfold as we, the weary and subversive soul, are merely a victim of circumstance and cannot help our sorrows or disenchantment. We cannot help that we act the way we do because we were raised in a broken home. We cannot help that we are not living up to our potential because society has dealt us a heavier lot. I say that in fact, we can! I’m not diminishing the reality that there are greater barriers created for some than others because of factors beyond their control, what I’m saying is we choose to let those barriers contain us, and furthermore, hang garlands of accountability on its fence posts. I blame the barrier that I am sitting at the bottom of instead of at least attempting to scale its walls!

Perhaps our melancholy is justified, but it does not justify our stagnancy! We ignore our own ability to choose. We ignore the truly vast ability we have to utilize our agency to its utmost extent and instead, “cop-out” by shaking our fist at the sky or pointing to “environmental circumstance” and saying “you are making me sit down in the dirt and pout!” We are content to be the victim… we visualize ourselves as the unselfish martyr… bearing an unjust punishment for something we didn’t do, but alas, we will bear the burden like the round shouldered Saints we are! And we do so very easily accept defeat because it is easier than choosing to pull ourselves up, dust ourselves off, and exclaim, “ I will not be the victim here!” When we victimize ourselves we've given up. Accepting circumstance is not the same as enduring circumstance. To merely muddle through does not take initiative or strength nor does it build character, but rather, justifies us simply patting ourselves on the back for drowning in an experience rather than attempting to swim to shore. Perhaps we cannot change the deep waters we are asked to tread, but we can choose if we sink to the bottom and wait for the proverbial rescue boat to bail us out. And even then, we WOULD get the most rickety row boat when we deserve a cruise liner for our saintly heroism! We demand reward for our inaction! We demand reward for opting-out! For sitting down in the rain.

QUOTE!

“Endowed with agency, you and I are agents, and we primarily are to act and not just be acted upon. To believe that someone or something can MAKE us feel offended, angry, hurt, or bitter diminishes our moral agency and transforms us into objects to be acted upon. As agents, however, you and I have the power to act and to choose how we will respond to an offensive or hurtful situation.”

– Elder David. A. Bednar

This my profound thought #1 and the lesson I have learned for the year, is that we are beings that are meant to act, and not be acted upon. We may find ourselves the heavy in less than ideal circumstances, but that does not define us as a “victim.” We choose to take on a “victim mentality” and allow circumstance to choose for us… which really in the end… we are still held accountable for our indecision as much as we are for our decision. At least with decision, you’ve gone out with a fight rather than blending neatly into the background.

End profound thought #1. And Happy New Year! Choose to make it a good one.

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!

2011-12-23T12:55:00.002-07:00

The Hobbit

2011-12-21T14:15:00.000-07:00

One of my most favorite novels of all time. Yes, you know why... because even the smallest of persons can change the course of the future. Short people are important! THEY ARE!

My Cute Little Guy

2011-12-20T09:44:00.001-07:00

You just try and prove that you have newborn nephews as cute as this! That's what I thought. These were taken through Lizz Davis Photography. I think she did a pretty fantastic job.

Website: http://web.me.com/lizzphoto/

The Worth of You

2011-12-19T11:58:00.003-07:00

Recently, I’ve had some close friends who have struggled in negative relationships that have made them question their self-worth and lower their standards and expectations. To this I say, STOP! Stop doing this to yourself.

It saddens me that these beautiful, smart, inspiring women that I have the privilege to interact with feel they must accept poor behavior and mediocre treatment simply because they desire love and companionship. I too desire these things. As a 28 year old single female living in Utah, you better believe I very much desire these things. You could say it’s the greatest desire of my heart. But I have learned, very much the hard way, that such a good desire can blind us to some very bad things. Things that perhaps our close friends and family can see because they are emotionally removed from the situation that we simply choose to ignore in the name of love. Things that will not lead to that happiness we envision, but instead, find us curled up in our bed crying and praying, “Please God, why won’t this just work out?” Love is blind. So perhaps find yourself some trusted friends and family with the eyes to see what you refuse to.

It’s the Dumb girl (or guy... it slices both ways!) disease. We’ve all been that dumb girl or guy. Glance back at your life and pick out that time or two (or three) where now, because you can look back and see how you’ve progressed and grown and hopefully learned what a wonderful person you truly are, wonder why you ever wasted your time with a relationship and situation that only ever brought you personal pain and heartbreak. The scales of love-blindess will fall from your eyes and instead of begging God for "things to work out", you thank him for not letting you continue in a situation that would have never lead to any sort of happiness. Or, perhaps examine a relationship you are in now; what is your ratio of happiness to negativity? Are they even? Is one far outweighing the other? And for heavens sake, how long has it been this way? Of the 6 months you’ve been dating, have 5 of those months only ever been drama, negativity, tears, and confusion? And yet, all we can think of and all we remember is that one month where things were really great. Or, perhaps, we keep hoping for the tomorrow’s that continue to never come. You can’t change him. You can't change her. Only he can change him. And why would anyone have an impetus to change if their bad behavior is constantly reaffirmed by you, dumb girl or guy, that continues to lower your standards and self-worth simply to be around this person.

Self-reflect. When you are around them, how do you feel about yourself? Does she make you feel like a hero? Does he make you feel like the most beautiful, interesting woman in the world? Are all those good things about you amplified? Do you have a desire to progress and be your best self? Note - this is different than feeling guilt and shame of changing your wonderful you to be the person they want you to be - rather - it is a healthy confidence and desire for doing good things that should make you feel uplifted and able - not down-trodden and unsatisfactory.

Some might say, “Well, not all things are roses. There are always hard times.” And we are all realistic enough to understand that in every relationship , there will be challenges. However, I submit to you that I know some very smart women who make some really dumb decisions in the name of “well, every relationship faces challenges.” To me, challenges are my husband losing his job and though he is working hard to find another one, things are going to be very tight for awhile and we will make it through. Challenges to me are caring for a sick or disabled child, together, as companions. Challenges to me are learning to share your life with another person and understanding that there must be MUTUAL sacrifice and patience if you are going to make it through. Challenges to me are facing rough patches in a very long road of happiness shared together. Challenges are allowing each other to have bad days, of getting over your OCD tendencies and just accepting he has no concept of "put your nasty socks in the hamper", or her chronic lateness. Challenges are pit stops, not the entire journey. To me, challenges come and go but your overall love and respect for each other won’t diminish and in fact, should continue to grow. Disrespect, verbal abuse, emotional manipulation, and selfishness are NOT challenges. These things demean, diminish, and disrupt the goodness that companionship is intended to bring. To me, companionship isn’t the key to happiness, it is the key to an enriched life. A life already being lived. A relationship to add to your already existing happiness and elevate your life to something more fully lived. If a relationship is not more enriching than it is “challenging”, particularly in the first few months of dating, I submit to you that perhaps you should rethink that relationship before it’s too late. Before you are so blinded for your good desire for lovely things, that you continually dress the wolf in sheep’s clothing yourself. The wolf that everyone else can see is dragging you away from the happy, active, wonderful person you once were.

I also want to shout from the rooftops to all the women (and men too!) that I know: YOU. ARE. WORTH. IT! You are WORTH dates. You are worth forethought and planning. You are WORTH your doors being opened and you are WORTH physical boundaries and limits. Guys you are WORTH honesty. You are WORTH respect. You are WORTH time and energy and trust in the good you and potential you have. You are worth fidelity. You are worth loyalty. You are worth commitment and you are worth his/her undivided attention. You are worth someone being fully invested.

Ladies and gentleman, your time, your life, your interests, and what you do ARE important and YOU are worth seeking after. Someone who doesn’t believe that isn’t the someone for you. And though it is always easier said than done to let go, not necessarily of the individual, but the perceived chance at companionship, your individual worth and ultimate happiness is far too high a price to get “sorta” what you want now instead of having patience for a little while longer and getting what you truly deserve later.

Ladies particularly, truly, you deserve it all. Stop selling yourself short and believe it. Become the good woman that the good man you deserve will seek out. And good men WILL seek you out if you are being your best you while still accepting that we are all a work in progress. So stop wasting your time with the ones who don’t see your worth and prepare yourself for the one that ultimately will.

As for myself, I would truly live a happier life as a single person (gasp! The horror! The horror!) then locked into a life-long unhappiness with someone who I’m constantly having to prove that I’m worth more than what he sees. If you have to constantly remind him (or her) you are worth it - then he's DEFINITELY not worth it and its time to start setting your sights for what is right instead of what is available at the moment.

End Rant.

Meow-ry Chris-meow-us... er... something

2011-12-13T14:24:00.003-07:00

A special thank you to Jaime for showing me this gem. And to her husband who, though cheers for the wrong team ENTIRELY, can still understand the enjoyment that is Cats and Christmas tunes. A Catsmus Miracle!

How can you love someone so much you just met?

2011-12-10T11:12:00.000-07:00

Turns out... it's really easy

Welcome little Carter Taylor... and Carter Taylor's hair.

The Spirit of the Law

2011-12-07T16:42:00.000-07:00

I was shown an article today outlining the banning of skinny jeans from BYU-Idaho campus. Yes, you heard me. The banning of skinny jeans. Don’t believe me still? Enjoy:

http://thestudentreview.org/2011/12/06/byu-idaho-bans-skinny-jeans/

First and foremost, this isn’t a rant about skinny jeans propensity for immodesty and what the benchmarks and standards are for what is “too tight… too form-fitting... too “skinny””. What I’d like to bring up is something that has always… what’s the word…. “irked” me about certain rules and restraints upon grooming and dress standards inherent to BYU campuses. Also, this is not a rant about BYU, rather, a discussion on the spirit of the law vs. the letter of the law and what it actually means to choose to adhere to principles vs. being forced into compliance by rules.

What irks me most is the lack of individual accountability (intricately connected to agency) that many of these regulations discount. Some of these regulations I see as flirting with the line of “force” vs. “choice.” I understand as a religious institutions, the BYU’s (Provo, Idaho, and Hawaii respectively) they must uphold religious precepts and therefore, cannot very well support or accept lack-luster standards of their student body. Nor can they very well afford to implement regulations without subsequently enforcing such regulations. This I like about the BYU’s and their Honor Codes. Not only are these honor codes rather audacious albeit conservative when it comes to “societal standards” but these standards are not swayed by the whims or fancies of fashion, media, and other “moderninities.” As VP Henry J. Eyring says in the article, “fashions will come and go.” BYU’s student body, for all intents and purposes, actually looks pretty upstanding most of the time. As to what that translates into when you reach into the cockles of the heart or even more simplistically, into the recesses of a dorm room is a different matter. But that’s life… that’s people… no one is perfect. The institution must uphold what it upholds because it's representing a belief system the the world, and I for one admire them for doing so despite the fools who mock.

That said, this lack of personal accountability for your own thoughts, actions, and perceptions of adhering to regulations of the institution you have agreed to be a part of has, once again, gone beyond the realm of self-governance and independent religious commitment and into the realm of force that’s completely based on the personal ideas and standards of whomever happens to be working in the testing center that day. THIS is what I have issue with. What is a standard of “too form-fitting” and how does one decide what is form-fitting and what is not? Who is the ultimate judge of whether a woman’s butt curvature is too accentuated by her jeans that she may not take a test for a class? Should it not be the woman’s decision as to what she feels is appropriate and adhering to the regulations she so agreed to when she became a BYU student? When are the students themselves given the freedom and ability to interpret these standards for themselves? Joseph Smith once said, “I teach them correct principles and they govern themselves.” Some regulations are not allowing for self-governance and I find this stifling to the spiritual growth and strengthen of beliefs.

I feel that there are instances, much like this skinny jean scenario, where adherence to correct principles goes beyond logic and reason and accountability and essentially, the spirit of why BYU asks its student to dress appropriately. Rather, the letter of the law is blinding the spirit of the law.

And here is the law via BYU-Provo

“Immodest clothing includes short shorts and skirts, tight clothing, shirts that do not cover the stomach, and other revealing attire. Young women should wear clothing that covers the shoulder and avoid clothing that is low-cut in the front or the back or revealing in any other manner."

I feel this is a reasonable standard to set for students that attend these institutions, and furthermore, I think that students who sign the honor code should be expected to take personal responsibility for such.

Here is BYU-I's Honor Code for grooming standards for women:

A clean and well-cared-for appearance should be maintained at all times. Clothing is inappropriate when it is sleeveless, strapless, backless, or revealing. It should not have slits above the knee or be formfitting. Dresses and skirts must be knee-length or longer (even with leggings worn).

Pants, slacks or jeans should not be patched, faded, frayed or torn and must be ankle length—no capris or shorts may be worn on campus. Hairstyles should be clean and neat, avoiding extreme styles and unnatural colors. Caps or hats should not be worn in buildings. Excessive ear piercings (more than one pair) and all other body piercings are inappropriate. Shoes should be worn in all public campus areas. Flip-flops and other casual footwear are inappropriate on campus.

They are basically similar in every way. However, the difference here lies with institutional interpretation being forced upon students or allowing students to interpret this standard for themselves.

There needs to be a line where the institution gets involved and where it is left up to student accountability. In the case of BYU-I, I feel flip flops, overalls (though let’s be honest… no problem there), shorts (at all), and apparently now skinny jeans is institutionally over-stepping the line of self-governance and forcing their students to apply their understanding of the rules “their way.” I recall a little council in heaven where there were two individuals offering to fulfill a heavenly plan and one was about CHOICE while the other was about FORCE. Mull that over. Naturally there will be those students who roll into the Creamery with cleavage up to their eyeballs and attempting to pass of their boy-cut panties for shorts exclaiming, “This is how I interpret the Honor Code!” In such extremity, clearly, the institution is without question required to address such instances. But again, I’m not talking about the black and white – I’m taking about the gray that encompasses self-governance simply because individuals think, feel, interpret, and apply principles differently. And I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that. Then again, I went to the University of Utah.

I think this would also be an appropriate time to point out the difficulties of trying to adhere to strictly to a grooming code given the mirage of body types that make up college campuses. I am containing most of my comments to females as grooming standards tend to effect them more so than men. Something that may seem revealing or low cut on a woman who, say, is very busty, and has significant butt curvature may look completely acceptable on a woman who perhaps has little curves, a small bust, and no butt. The later woman may wear a simple boot-cut jean while the former could get away with strait up leggings. The “tightness” factor could by all accounts and purposes be the same, but it is the body shape and difference that can make a pair of skinny jeans (or a t-shirt, or a skirt) look very different from one body to the next – from one booty to the next. Some women will always look curvier than others and they should not have to adhere to a different standard, in my opinion, for something that was bequeathed upon them by genetics. I only ask they be self-aware. In fact, I was told once because I was short, I should wear crewneck t-shirts because taller guys might be able to look down my shirt.

What?

My response, “Well maybe they shouldn’t try to look down my shirt regardless...” I’m not dressing like a marm simply because men taller than me (read: that would be 98% of men) have wandering eyes.

I’d like to give you some more real life examples of similar double standards I experienced while spending time on a campus.

#1 - I was involved at BYU-Provo campus for some time and in that time, I quickly learned that things I had not noticed living outside of the “Honor Code” I had to start taking notice of very quickly. Like 5:00 shadows. Can I tell you how my male employees would take advantage of my “beard” ignorance and wander in with their stubby faces because they knew it wouldn’t even register with me? Imagine their surprise when I started remembering and sent them home for a shave. Scally-wags!

Anyway…. Better example:

I run in running shorts. What? Yes. My running shorts aren’t long shorts, but they aren’t short shorts really. They are running shorts hitting me probably about mid-thigh. Now, as standards dictate on campus, students are asked not to wear short shorts and skirts. Of course I knew this, but it didn’t compute to running shorts for me. I don’t know why. Probably because I’d never had to think about it before as I attended the secular school up North (or any other school in the nation) where showing significant butt cheek out the bottom of your Daisy Dukes was common classroom attire. I was reminded very quickly of this “no short shorts fact” though as I had to leave from running the BYU outdoor track (with another girl who was doing so in a sports bra and shorts only – just pointing it out) through campus for something. As I was walking on campus, I noticed I was getting some curious looks. One such fellow almost tripped over himself, gave me a gawking up and down, and then shook his head and “passed by on the other side." It was then, when I followed his gaze, it hit me. I was wearing “short shorts”. Now, I’m 5’1 and don’t boast a lot of “leg”, but never the less, they were shorter than probably is customary for campus wear. I blushed and felt ashamed. That shame, however, turned to annoyance when, as I watched this pimpled sweet spirit walk away, I noted that he in fact was wearing flannel teddy bear PJ bottoms, an old “BYU Basketball 1997” t-shirt with holes, and fuzzy slippers. I REPEAT, flannel teddy bear PJ’s, a wholly old t-shirt, and slippers. If I might now QUOTE from the BYU Honor Code: “A clean and well-cared-for appearance should be maintained... Shoes should be worn in all public campus areas.” Flannel teddy bear PJ’s. Perhaps Mr. PJ’s and I should’ve thought twice before venturing on campus in our attire. But the thing is, I was the only one getting side glances. I was the one who was breaking the rules. And though I won't deny that in my ignorance I probably was breaking the rules, so was this gentleman. But I also know if someone were to report us - the PJ boy wouldn't have even caused an eye to bat. Why? Because no one things "sexy" about flannal pj's... and that's really what it's about. Sex.

#2 - Student complains of unseemly ankle bearing. I once had a student email the department I was housed in complaining that he could see the ankles of a woman on one of our posters. I was silenced mid-scoff by the faces of colleagues who were actually considering his complaint as legitimate. Ankles?!? As professionally as I could muster, I offered the following logic, “If this student is getting off because of women’s ankles, might I suggest he has bigger problems then our small marketing department should be encumbered upon to address?” Call me devil's adovcate.

Which brings the accountability discussion full circle. Immodesty is a “women” thing. Is it not? Societal standards, the nature of women, the nature of men, it all coagulates together upon the fact that men are more aroused through visual stimuli than women and women’s bodies are generally the object of that arousal. I get it and I agree that as a woman, I have a responsibility to not be the proverbial “Potiphers wife”… displaying my womanly wiles for all to partake. But I do not think that my responsibility to be aware of my womanly effect on the male gender also encompasses their responsibility (or lack thereof) to maintain self-control. They are accountable for their thoughts, feelings, and “triggers” and therein lies my biggest irk of all. Men and women are both responsible for the image they project, but also how they internalize an image that will inevitably be projected upon them; skinny jeans being the lesser of those projected images I expect. Mr. Ankles email was somehow justifying a thought or (assumption here) action or pattern of actions he was involved in and instead of taking personal accountability for a human weakness, placing blame upon a woman's ankles. I perish the thought of this poor fellow ever living anywhere else but Utah, or turning on the TV, or going to the grocery store or hey, even going to church. I assume if it ever came down to mandating burkas on campus, he'd sounds the rallying cry.

BYU-I campus cannot keep their student body from viewing skinny jeans, flip flops, skirts, cleavage, ankles, and any other fleshy or curve hugging fashion, trend, or natural endowment that is rampant in every other corner of the world. They can ask their students not to partake, and they can ask their students to adhere to these standards, but they cannot keep them from, at some point in their lives, dealing with “the world” as it is. As Elder Holland so aptly put it (and I paraphrase) we must live in the world, just not of the world. We still must live IN the world. We must adapt and build up resistance and learn to make choices and uphold standards when our environments tell us we’re ridiculous or archaic. I admire BYU’s for upholding that standard – but only to the point where it still allows student agency and speaks to the spirit of “why” rather than the paternal “because I said so, that’s why.” We must still take accountability for our choices, thoughts, actions, and apply those principles and concepts we are taught through prayer and individual interpretation. We are taught correct principles, and we govern ourselves.

Now don’t misread me here. It’s not that I think BYU (or any religious institutions) student bodies consist of only drones that can’t make their own choices and govern themselves. They can. Regardless of institutional codes and regulations, I know there is still personal choice to follow those regulations when no one is watching, when your boyfriend keeps trying to push your limits, or when you are home alone with a computer and internet connection. I get that. But for me on a personal level, attending such an institution didn’t appeal to me simply because I wanted to make sure I was making those choices, setting those limits, and following those standards simply because it was how I chose to live my life; not for fear of punishment, being caught, or being shamed. I also realize, because I was born and raised in rural Utah, I felt an even greater need to do that. Make sure my identify and convictions were what they really were beyond my parents house rules, and my cultural surroundings. I could only do that by not going to a school where they were similarly enforced through crime and punishment. Weird logic, but it works for me. And makes sense too - as most BYU students are NOT from Utah and thus, have likely already had their spiritual mettle tested many times through out their life. I wanted to learn to govern myself and I’m glad I get to wear skinny jeans and date bearded men while I do it. That's all I'm sayin.

I don't see what anyone can see in anyone else.... but you

2011-12-03T14:32:00.001-07:00

and YOU

and definitely YOU

oh yeah... and you

YOU!

It's Coming...

2011-12-02T10:30:00.002-07:00

I feel I am dangling on the precipice of a bonified cold. The pressure in your head, the boogies encrusting your nasal cavity, the slight aches in your shoulders, and the feeling that your world is about to shatter around you. All these things I am feeling right now. All these things spell out "you're getting a cold, sucker face."

And what does one do in such an instance? Attempt to back away from the precipice? Hork Vitamin C this that and the other in the hopes of curbing this sickness that is sneakily laying hold of my body? Attempt to ignore it away (which I've successfully done before!) by not mentally acknowledging the existence of the a fore mentioned unpleasantness and pressing forward as if my only desire WASN'T to find my big heavy fuzzy blanket, some hot lemon tea with honey, and finish out Season 7 of the X-Files? Just repeat after me, "I will not get sick. I will not get sick. I. WILL. NOT. GET. SICK! YOU! SHALL NOT! PASS! (I couldn't help myself). Sure... I could try all that.

OR!!

I can let the sickness take me. Face it like a man! The sooner it takes me, the sooner it leaves me. Plunge over the precipice and hope I bounce off the ground with grace rather than a SPLAT!

Though, I don't think I've hit the point of no return quite yet. I think I could still beat this foe back with a little weekend R&R... which should probably start sooner rather than later. Best not to procrastinate the battle for fear of losing the war. And you can cross-stitch that. Call it your I'm a Sick pillow.

As for me... I'm going home.

Gobble it Up Little Thankfulses

2011-11-28T16:26:00.002-07:00

Welcome back indulgent few! I hope you ate yourselves into a silly stupor like I did this weekend. Mmm… eating myself into a silly stupor… that sounds so great. SO GREAT! SO! GREAT!

Of course, I have naturally committed to a non-accomplishable goal of skipping the sugary substances until Christmas like the rest of you weak-willed pot bellied suckers. Let us be suckers together! I give it one week. Who can resist a maple cookie or ginger snap? Or anything boasting peppermint accents and warm chocolaty ANYTHING! Losers. That’s who. Do you want to be a loser? Me neither. Eat, Drink and be Merry! For in January, we'll all be a huffin and a puffin on neighbor treadmills together. Alas.

Anyway…

I thought I’d jump on the bloggery bandwagon and give you a list of “Me So Thankfuls.” Tis the season. I realize this is post-Thanksgiving and by rights, Christmas is “legally” acknowledged with the behest of Black Friday. But you know me… I like to ruminate on things and then spew it forth in my own due time… generally a little post-facto. I’d also like to get into the knitty gritty of this thankful business and really pull out some miniature gems of simple happiness that make my day to day existence worth facing. You won’t find a bunch of blather about family or friends or America or “food on my table” on THIS list! No sir-ee-bob! When I say it’s about the little things… I take it to a whole new level. Perhaps it would do you some good to really get down to the nuts and bolts of the tiniest things that you’re thankful for. Eh? Scrap the bottom of that proverbial barrel.

Me So Thankfuls List

Word-smithery. The fact I just threw out such words as “behest,post-facto, and blather” without blinking an eye makes me very grateful for my self-proclaimed title of Word-Smith. Behest?!? Who does that?!? This guy. And I think I almost used it right too. What do you know anyway?
The semi-colon. A fantastic grammatical tool combining two very separate yet related sentences into one. It gives my writing flow; it gives it stream of thought. You see what I did there?
A really smooth ball point pen. None of that inky splotch sort of fancy stuff for me! I write in cursive rather exclusively (right?!?!) and a nice ball point pen makes the curve and flow of the cursive hand smooth and magical.
Sporks. It’s a spoon, it’s a fork. Enough said.
Washing my face at night. Oh heaven! Oh bliss! I love wiping of the days grim with a warm wash cloth and seeing my bespeckled cheeks shine through rosy and clean. I’m thankful for washcloths! I’m thankful for Clinique Face Foam! No really... I LOVE CLINQUE FACE FOAM!
The smell of books. Yep. I’m that weirdy you saw sniffing the books in the Fiction section of Barnes and Noble. I snatch me a book, examine its bindings and coverings, hold the pages close to my nose and flip through while inhaling deeply. Sniffing a good book is almost as good as sniffing freshly copied paper. In grade school I’d sniff a newly printed assignment before beginning to tarnish it with ink and lead. Saver the smells.
Bill Paxton – for being that “one guy… ya know… UGH! What is his name?!? He's in... stuff!” in any movie or TV show that requires some amount of talent but not a lot of face-memory. He also did a fine job in Twister.
Bejeweled Butt Jeans. Seeing women of the 40+ age bracket sporting them reminds me that I am what they want to be without having to wear bejeweled butt jeans. I’m a 20 something. It also gives me a false sense of superiority realizing that they are getting a false sense of superiority derived from sporting a bejeweled butt at $200 a pop. Vicious circle… but I’m grateful for it.
Miracle Whip – oh the tangy zip!
Dust. I like dusting! Thus, when dust besets my table tops, dressers, book shelves, and black TV stand, I skip happily to the cleaning product cupboard, selecting my Orange scented Pledge and dust rag with almost palpable ecstasy at the prospect of de-dusting my furniture to an almost sparkling newness, and proceed in a twirling Poppins-esque enthusiasm around the room, wiping as I go! Oh dust! Thank you!
Comeuppance. I get no greater satisfaction then when weasely bad guys get their comeuppance! And it’s more so when it’s the douschy little side kick rather than the full blown villain. Grah! I can’t stand snively little sidekicks that are more annoying than they are villainy. But I like it when the villains get their’s too. Take that!
Mouse Glue Traps.
Spell Check
All Day Marathons such as but not limited to: Lord of the Rings Trilogy presented on Encore this weekend commercial free; America's Next Top Model all day marathons on Oxygen (she suddenly realized that what had begun as a potentially productive Saturday morning had now dimmed like the 6 daylight hours that had so easily slipped by), A Christmas Story all day on TNT Christmas Eve, Harry Potter marathons a la ABC Family, and any other all day epic marathons that steal your day in a flurry of Orc battles and ring bearing!

And there are a few things that make my life a little more worth living. What about you? What’s your Spork?

Spiders and Me

2011-11-22T15:31:00.000-07:00

This blog hit it on the HEAD! The proverbial hairy 6 glinting eyes pincer fangs head! Shudder.

I HATE spiders. Spiders are like little pieces of death wrapped in scary. Even if a spider was like

I'd be all

It Ain’t No Stuart Little

2011-11-21T15:56:00.005-07:00

Mouse! In the house! More like mice… but that didn’t rhyme so I had to stick with the singular there. Never the less; we have mice! In our HOUSE! Pretty gross, right? Only gross because they are diseased ridden little varmints that scurry and scratch and dart and poop. Other than that, I find them kinda cute. What? How many movies/TV shows/literary characters can you name off the top of your head that showcases an adorable wee mouse and his or her mousey adventures?

Stuart Little – Duh
Fievel Mousekewitz
Mickey Mouse – duh
Minnie Mouse – naturally
Mrs. Brisbee
Mighty Mouse!
Basil of Baker Street aka the Great Mouse Detective
Benjy Mouse and Frankie Mouse from a Hitch hikers Guide to the Galaxy
Bernard and Miss Bianca – the Rescuers!
Chuck E Cheese
Itchy – Itchy and Scratchy Show
Jerry – of Tom and Jerry
Mr. Jingles – the Green Mile
Pinky and the Brain
The Three Blind Mice

Am I right? So though I understand people’s dislike of mice because of their carrying such diseases as the Hanta virus… which I just looked up and am now sufficiently freaked out! Sometimes WEBMD is a blessing and a curse, am I right? But just in case I do contract the Hanta and effectually DIE like 60% OF THOSE WHO CONTRACT IT THROUGH MOUSE EXCREMENT…. I bequeath my book collection to Jaime, my clothes to Camille, and the $170 I have in my checking account to brother Nick. He’s a poor student and could use the help. The rest of my goods I expect to be sold at auction and the moneys given to the Fight Against Hanta Virus Non Profit Organization. I’m sure it exists somewhere.

Anyway… what was I saying before crafting my living Will? Ah yes, how diseased rodents are kinda cute.

I first discovered our little mouse problem while watching an X-Files (Season 7!!) at home one night. I caught the varmint out of the corner of my eye as it skittered out of the fireplace and under our wood pile thing (scientific term). At first I thought, “If that was a huge spider, I’m moving out tonight!” And I rightly would have until the rodent made an attempt for the bookcase and I could see it was a little gray mouse instead of the eight legged creatures of my nightmares. Phew! Relief! I really hate moving.

Which brings me to another tangent…

On top of MICE problems we’ve also been combating a “spider in the tub” issue and I tell you I am an exhausted wreck because of it! I can’t take it! I have a very bad case of Arachnophobia and having to face some disgusting scurrying eight legged nasty first thing in the morning is not the “wake me up” I prefer. Oh gag. Oh loathing. I freaking hate spiders. FREAKING! In fact, my attempts to work out in the morning have been very successful with the promise of a spider free facility shower. This is me being more optimistic. Seeing the silver lining in my NIGHTMARES! How’d I do?

So now with both a spider and mouse problem – we decided it was time to kill the suckers. Kill ‘em real good. We called an exterminator who scheduled an appointment for Monday morning.Little did we know we were about to face the longest weekend of our lives.

My poor roomie Alex made the decision to call the exterminator when she discovered that the mice had been having a Fiesta in her bedroom closet. She keeps protein and energy bars in a basket on the floor. Energy bars! And the FLOOR! So not only had these sneaky mice found the foody jackpot, they were all hopped up on complex carbs! “Hey fella’s! Look what I can do!” as he propels his fur-ball body from clothes hanger to clothes hanger, shitting as he goes. And boy to mice shit!! EVERYWHERE! Always! What’s more, do you know mice can procreate at 6-8 weeks old? Slut-mice! AND! AND! They can dump a 10-20 (TWENTY!) varmint liter in as little as 4-6 DAYS! What the hell?!?! So we could have great, great, great, Granny Mouse leaping around hopped up on energy bars in as little as 2 weeks! This could only spell one thing, major anxiety and gross infestation.

Still, with images of Stuart Little and Mrs. Brisbee in my head, I convinced Alex to try the “humane” little traps first. Ya know, those little boxes you can catch them in and then take them to a field where they may roam free as wild mice! When those proved a complete failure, she opted for the glue sheets. No mercy. Upon laying down glue sheets in her now completely cleaned out closet (full of gaps and holes by the way – yep – we were just asking for it! Come on in mouse! The front door is wide wide open… so is the back door and side door and a couple of windows… oh… and here’s some food within reach too). This was at about 5pm Saturday afternoon. I came home from a baby shower at 6:30pm and found a squeaky mouse struggling on a glue sheet. It was kinda sad and also kinda an internal vindication. I picked up the glue sheet (that’s right! I’m bad-ass) and walked Granny Mouse out to the garbage. Don’t worry, I prayed later that her death would be quick… she would fall asleep in the winter night and freeze. That was my hope.

Alex came home and I told her of the adventure. She promptly went to lay down another sheet and just as she was placing it on the floor… FLYING MOUSE!!! It leaped out of a hole and face planted onto the glue sheet. Mouse #2’s attempt to flee was easily thwarted and leaving Alex to her panic attack, I walked Papa Mouse out to join his hooker mother in the garbage can… a brief prayer to usher him in. Two mice in 3 hours! Didn’t bode well. The next day, Sunday, when we came home from church… Alex came running out of her bedroom because one of the sticky papers was gone. GONE? How could it be gone?

Here’s how…

TWO MICE! TWO MICE had fallen onto the glue trap and one of them had only stuck by its hind legs. With his front legs, he was attempting to drag them both to safety, “I can’t carry it for you! But I can carry you!” A fool’s errand! And as a picked up glue sheet three, he knew his struggles were in vain. I plopped these next two in with the others before them, making note that the other two from the night before were definitely dead. This made me feel a little better though at this point I was considering putting their heads on pikes and sticking them in front of crevices and holes around the house as a warning to other mice. Keep away!

Instead, we opted to hold out for the exterminator and come Monday morning, he came galloping up on his white horse and placed “poison blocks” strategically around the house. He guaranteed us that if we saw a single mouse within 10 days they’d come back and dispose of them again. They ALSO said if we saw more than 6 (SIX?!?) spiders within 10 days they’d come back. They sprayed all around the house AND extra in the bathroom. I asked Alex if she gave him a big hug and slobbery kiss from both of us. She said she seriously thought about it – then felt weird. I said he probably gets a lot of love from a lot of ladies ALL THE TIME. That sly dog.

So we shall see if the pests are good and taken care of. We shall also see if we start manifesting flu like symptoms centralized in the lungs in the next 2-3 weeks. If that happens, I bid you all a fond adieu with this advice: Screw Stuart Little! Just kill the bastards.

Some Lyrics

2011-11-15T13:49:00.000-07:00

Turning Tables - Adele

So I won't let you close enough to hurt me, no

I won't ask you, you to just desert me

I can't give you what you think you gave me

it's time to say goodbye to turning tables, turning tables

Next time I'll be braver, I'll be my own savior

When the thumb that cost me

Next time I'll be braver, I'll be my own savior

Standing on my own two feet

---------------------------------------------

Innocent - Our Lady Peace

Oh, [She's] losing faith in what she knows

Hates her music, hates all of her clothes

Thinks of surgery and a new nose

Every calorie's a war

While she wishes she was a dancer

And that she'd never heard of cancer

She wishes God would give her some answers

And make her feel beautiful

----------------------------------------------

Fix You - Coldplay

When you try your best but you don't succeed

When you get what you want, but not what you need

When you feel so tired but you can't sleep

Stuck in Reverse

And the tears come streaming down your face

When you lose something you can't replace

When you love someone but it goes to waste

Could it be worse?

-------------------------------------------

H& M Brings Me One Step Closer to Perpetual Cat Ladyery (ladery?) and Puts a Few Things Into Stark Perspective

2011-11-14T13:43:00.001-07:00

H&M opened this weekend at Fashion Place Mall (HURRAY!). Now, as a country bumpkin - I generally don't like large crowds; particularly if those large crowds consist of crazy eyed self-proclaimed fashionista's with huge strollers and nothing pressing them for time at 2:30 in the afternoon on a weekday. Stereotype so established. Thus, I wasn't planning on visiting my now very LOCAL H&M until several months after its "grand opening" to avoid such crowds (and reinforcing stereotypes ;)). In fact, I didn't even visit the Cheesecake Factory for easily a year AFTER it opened in SLC because the lines are atrocious and I couldn't understand "what the big deal was." Well, I'm so happy I found out because that place is freaking delicious! Lines? What LINES??? I will wait as long as it TAKES to pay $17 for the most delicious plate of garlic pasta I've ever EATEN!!!

Back on topic.

SO! I don't like large crowds particularly if its brimming with the a fore mentioned stereotypes, thus effectively putting my H&M Utah plans on hold until after the holiday season. BUT, I suddenly had an internal conflict with this plan this weekend as I am ALSO a very good daughter. Didn't you know? And my mom came to visit me for some mother/daughter shopping, eating, and ballyhoo time and of course, OF COURSE, we had to go Fashion Place Mall - it easily becoming the best mall in the state with such additions as the afore mentioned H&M, Crate and Barrel, Anne Taylor Loft, Apple Store, and the usual bought of awesomeness: JCrew, Banana Republic, and Nordstrom. I think I just salivated all over my keyboard. Shoppy shoppy nom nom! Spendy Spendy!

Yep, you guessed it. Being a good daughter won out and we went to H&M, opening weekend, as Christmas approaches. Madness! We had to stand in line for about 15 minutes to get in the store. Have you ever had to do this? You know I haven't because of my crowd aversion and general avoidance of "hype." It was pretty amazing how people eyed each other - making snap judgements about your worthiness to have a presence at such a grand opening. At least I'm spending my own money, Princess. Oh snap. Presence we were granted and upon entering the store - we were assailed with Club/Techno/Whippersnapper music BLASTING our senses and shaking the walls. Why do they have to do that? Why? I don't understand why the shopping experience must be assailed with BOMP! BOMP! BOMP! the entire time. UN-PLEASANT!

But what WAS pleasant was the 15 pairs of new socks (I only have work out socks... and they get eaten by Zooey periodically), scarf, and ridiculously "me" (dahling) dress and blazer I purchased amongst the madness.

OBSERVE!

You're asking yourself - what is that face you are making? It's a "did it take?" face. Phone cameras are sneaky little blighters!

Yes that's right. My dress is head to toe cats! And not just any head to toe cats - head to toe cats with BOW TIES! Cat-lady Andrea is well on her way!

Though I did purchase a few choice items and it was cool to go into the new store - it was also somewhat disheartening to see this middle and upper class American line to get into a moderately priced retail store; stomping and cutting (in line...not flesh... but I can see how it would've come to that eventually) and bumping and shoving and eying each other for a $20 blazer or $10 stripped socks. I had women edging me out of looking at a shirt or leggings simply because they must have thought I would take the last one... when it was clear we wouldn't have even worn CLOSE to the same size anyway. The passive aggressiveness rating scale was off the chart. And for what? Apparently one's true character shines through when sweater tights are on the line.

Now, don't get me wrong - I really like shopping. I like it a lot and if it's a good deal - I'm a sucker for it. But I couldn't help but have a small existential moment realizing that in America, where we stand in line for H&M's or the newest IPhones or midnight showings of Vampire Love movies; acting like children and anxiously climbing over each other in angst - somewhere else in the world people are standing in line for their one meal a day, a crust of bread, or vaccines against diseases American children have enjoyed for decades. We reduce our character to shreds and curb our humanity for wool sweaters, or video games when fathers who have lost their jobs stand in unemployment lines and mothers go hungry again so their children will have enough to eat that night. And this doesn't happen in a country far far away - but in our own cities and neighborhoods.

To me, it's curious and even disappointing what we will stand in lines for sometimes. Is this really a good use of our time and resources? And for heavens sake, what happened to downright common decency? No, I don't think that standing in line for H&M makes someone a bad person. I don't think it's a bad thing to like to shop and enjoy some nice things if you can afford them. I just ask for a realistic amount of perspective and a polite "excuse me" now and again. I don't think waiting in line at an H&M provides justification for leaving your humanity at home so you can be the first one to use your stroller as a battering ram to the jeans section of a retail store. But maybe I don't get out enough.

What's that? I've not mentioned my watching of the X-Files in awhile?

2011-11-11T09:23:00.002-07:00

Well I'm so sorry! I know how much you enjoy my obsession of yester-year coming back to haunt my blog posts. Sometimes it's good to remind yourself why you liked these sorts of things when you were younger. And even more interesting is what you see them for now - years hence. I'd say that my revisiting of the X-Files with my more molded 28 year old brain vs. my 16 year old brain has brought some new enjoyments and insights into the mythology and magic of this unique series classic. It's also a good gauge of how much you've progressed (or not) changed your perceptions (or not) and how you internalize things differently (or not). What indulgences of yester-year have you not thought of in awhile? Are you a Trekkie? Did you love Xena Warrior Princess? How about your love of Full House or Home Improvement? Give yourself the gift of nostalgia this holiday season, why don't you? Dig up those simple things that used to take you places that only those truly good stories really could. It's why we love these things isn't it? It's why we obsess and discuss and hold forums and blogs... so we can talk about things more than the mundane. So we can escape the ho-hum of everyday. I think there's some magic in that... and a little medicine as well.

Somethings, will always remain the same. It's worth conjuring up the same excitement and curiosity. It's also nice to maybe go a little Freud on yourself and figure out why these things so appealed to you as much as they did. A little insight for me? I've always admired and even worshiped strong women. Scully... Xena (it's true)... Dr. Crusher (little Trek in there)... there's a pattern here. And the pattern is strength and confidence and kicking the crap out of someone if you need to and proving your mettle through your mind rather than your hips. I don't think that's such a bad thing to admire, is it?

Our adoration's of yesterday offers us an escape from the every day and reminds us of what we once were. Enjoy a mini-chick flick moment whether you were an X-Filer or not. It's still worth an "Aw."

Upon Writing: Some Definitions

2011-11-09T14:08:00.004-07:00

There are times when I read things... and some stuff... but mostly things... where during said reading I get annoyed. I don't know why I feel this way. If the grammar is sound and the structure intact, and heck, if there are a few creative adjectives spirited throughout the prose then what's my problem? WHAT'S MY PROBLEM?!?!? WHY AM I SO BUGGED!!!!

I found out why today.

First, I am an elitist. But we knew that.

Second, it's because I can tell when the writing is contrived.

Definition
Contrived: adjective obviously planned or forced; artificial; strained: a contrived story.

aka

The Kiss of Death in fictional story-telling... or writing anything in general.

It's a super power... spotting contrived writing.

No it isn't. Because you, you average citizen you, would feel the same way I did when reading something that annoys you for no other reason than you're just annoyed. And now, you have a reason. It's annoying reading something contrived.

Why am I talking about this?

Because I'm attempting to become a legitimate writer and I need to know if that's even possible. Legitimate writer as in... that's what I "do." It's my craft, my art, my "thing", it's what I want to be. It's like all those other struggling art forms; art, music, acting... where there is a rather small percentage of the population that are wildly successful practicing their "craft" without also having to juggle a 9 to 5 to pay the bills. How would it be to pay your bills with your passion? It would be like being Tom Hanks or Bono or J.K. Rowling. For every ridiculously successful ar-teest there are a thousand other suckers who attempt their whole lives to "make it" and never quite break through the teeming mists of critics, nay-sayers, and just plain old not having talent. That last one is the worst. How do you know you've got it? How much of that "it" factor is determined by societal shifts? (see increasing number of lusty vampire teen novels... gag). How do you know that you could be the next Steinbeck or Updike? We need a proverbial Simon Cowell to lay it strait for more than just angsty warbling teenage singing hopefuls. Open wide and take your medicine art people! You're very bad at what you love. Jagged pill.

Definitions
Legitimate: in accordance with established rules, principles, or standards.
Writer: a person who writes or is able to write;

Therefore; legitimate writer: a person who writes or is able to write in accordance with established (metaphorically, unspoken, or recorded) rules, principles, or standards.

Thus I've learned, some of the annoyance I have from reading some people's (ahem "writers" ahem), though well structured and even adequately crafted, prose is because it's contrived.... forced... artificial... and strained. Is it in accordance with established standards? Grammatically... you bet. But writing is more than the structure; it's the story. It's the idea. It's the conveying of an idea that allows your reader to say "I know exactly what you mean!" Leave the grammar to your editor, dear writer. Your job is to tell a story!

Stephen King said in his book On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft, that you should write the truth. It's a bed-fellow of the common writers guide: "write what you know." Someone can know a handful of things or a lot of things... but is it true? Is it true for you? Is it true for you character? Write what's true. I believe the lay-man/woman of all readers can spot an untruth... which is to say... you can tell when you're being suckered. It just doesn't sit well. I've read these contrived little things and may have even stretched my own writing to the point of annoying the hell out of some unsuspecting reader. And now that I know why a blunt pencil in the eye is preferable to contrived writing, I'm holding to ye old writer's precepts: Write what you know. Write the truth.

When writing fiction, you must write the truth.

Definitions
Fiction: something feigned, invented, or imagined; a made-up story: the act of feigning, inventing, or imagining.

Truth: the state or character of being true.

Lie: a false statement made with deliberate intent to deceive; an intentional untruth; a falsehood; something intended or serving to convey a false impression

You see the difference, don't you? Writing fiction truthfully without sounding contrived or a big fat liar. Fiction writers do it all the time - and they do it well. Did a boy possessed of magical ability truly survive a killing curse go on and attend a magical school with peers of similar magical abilities so he could then save his world from the evil devices of a sinister Dark Lord? Of course not. But that doesn't make it not true. In fact, it's a beautiful truth that speaks to us about things that are believable. Fiction is making your reader believe it could be true.

So I 'm trying to become a legitimate writer by writing a little of what I know and always writing the truth... and mostly avoiding sounding contrived... because I'm not here to annoy anyone. Truly.

A Suitable Library

2011-11-04T15:17:00.000-06:00

Since I am no longer obligated to read only academic texts and scholarly journals, I felt it high time to cozy up with some good old fashioned leisure reading. That's reading that I WANT to - not ASSIGNED to. Ya know, in case you wondered what the difference was. And if you did wonder what the difference was, perhaps this blog isn't for you.

Therefore, I present to you my Suitable Library blog. Yes, it's book reviews and honestly, if you read like I read (i.e. or used to read or will soon be reading again) it doesn't hurt to hear some recommendations from someone who has been around the literary block a time or two. Not that I'm a book-whore, but I'm kinda a book-whore.

So take a gander and for heavens sake, add an opinion! Or even a review of your own. I'd like your recommendations as well. We're all in this together. After all, it's never just ONE whore on a street corner anymore.

Go check it out. DO IT.

Let's talk about Halloween

2011-11-02T14:03:00.001-06:00

Yes, it's November now. What happened to October? I ask you! It's always a little bittersweet when October ends - it being my favorite month of the year and all. But it also means other such fantastic holidays as Thanksgiving and Christmas are upon us! So it can't be all bad to have October end. PLUS! I've also been watching the Walking Dead Season 2 and that will help me keep Halloween in my heart for several months hence.

THAT said, here's some pictures of my October Shenaniganizing. That's, Shen-an-igan-iz-ing. I'm a Shenaniganizer!

Thirller! Every year for the last 4 years I've gone to Odyssey Dance Theater's production of Thriller at Kingsbury Hall. I love it. I love all the great pieces they bring back every year and I always look forward to the new ones they inevitably integrate. I also like any opportunity I get to refer to a performance, writing, or art as a "piece." Makes me so fancy. "Yes, dahling it was a moving piece... a real snapper!"

Next.

I've already discussed how October houses one of the greatest events all year - i.e. my Birthday. BUT! It also houses the SECOND greatest event of the year - All Hallows Eve! That's Halloween to the slow person. I love Halloween. I love Halloween like I love a good book or glitter or Agent Mulder. Or a glittery Agent Mulder reading a good book. Oh stop me!

Why do I love Halloween? There's probably a few reasons - some psychological... some psychotic... and others just plain obvious. Lets start with the obvious: DRESSING UP! I guess that could also fall into the realm of psychological as well. The appeal of "masking" yourself and becoming someone (or something) else for an evening is liberating. Perhaps why there is so much shenaniganizing that goes on on All Hallows Eve... the moon is full.... the ghouls are out... and everyone disregards their inhibitions in favor of some bloody make-up and nylon fairy wings. Under these disguises you can do and be whatever you want - and it may surprise you WHAT you actually do or want when you're not accountable to your own face.

Plus I really love playing with hair and make-up. I'm such a girl.

Observe:

My roomie Alex in her HOMEMADE (that is correct sir!) Robot outfit and me as the wee Tinkerbell. Guess what? Guess what??! I "made' my costume too! Right? Okay... so Alex sewed the hard part (that would be the elastic waist band for the skirt) but I, dear friends, did the "characterizing" - meaning I cut and fitted my shirt, shredded my skirt, bought the wings, and did one wickedly awesome job fluffing and glittering my hair. It was something spectacular to behold.

Robot doing the Robot - naturally

He's white. No really, he is. I find this costume to be the most "social experiment" worthy as I was very much reminded of the novel Black Like Me by John Howard Griffin. John is a white man who essentially becomes "black" as a social experiment. He artificially darkens his skin in an attempt to understand what it was like being a black man in the Southern United States in 1959. I'm curious how such an experience would be different (or the same) now. As for Eric's costume - it just looks AWESOME!

We are SPARTANS!

Us again? Well we look so stinking good!

Thinking Happy Thoughts! Example: I hope I don't break my ankle attempting to get this flying picture.

Who is the man under the full body suit? No one KNOWS!

Boobs.


We asked Lance what the video would be when we pushed Play. I think we ruined the ride with that question. His expression said, "Isn't this awesomely creative costume enough?" No, Lance. We want you to dance. Dance monkey!


Zooey also attempted to get in on the fun. She got a little carried away with the webbing. Silly Zooey.

So there you have it. A little this and that about why I love Halloween and mostly - a picture heavy post showing off some of this years best! Halloween comes but once a year, and it's important to do it well and do it right. I think we managed both.

Hi, My Name is Andrea Jolene

2011-10-31T13:10:00.000-06:00

And I am 1 week and 3 days sober.

BOO YA!

Turns out, it's because I only ever wanted a man

2011-10-25T14:19:00.001-06:00

I thought this was worth a post vs. a passing FB shout out.

What I learned from this little editorial (below)? It turns out I've always wanted to date men and not boys. And I mean always... like since High School always. And in High School it's okay for boys to be boys because they are boys and it's okay for girls to date boys because they're girls. But I've always wanted to date men. My propensity for men was even manifest in the "celeb crushes" I had throughout high school. They weren't yourt your young strapping baby faced boys like Orlando Bloom (I guess he's more of a girl), Paul Walker (circa 1999), or Christian Slater (I'm a child of the mid-90's... clearly). Naw. I liked Russel Crowe or Harrison Ford or George Clooney. And now I can see it was because they represent a manly manness those "pretty" boys didn't have. They were something more adult and controlled and committed versus rowdy and pubescent. Sure I had my Jonathon Taylor Thomas phase - but really - I've always liked the idea of men.

THUS! I'm single at 28 because I had to reach an age where my expectations of dating men ( vs boys) was realistic and legitimate and not creepy (cause I'm not into the whole 18 year old and 35 year old... "thing"). How could I have expected that from an 18... 21... or even 24 year old? I couldn't. It wasn't fair. But NOW... NOW I can. I can expect man'ness from a 26, 30, or 32 year old. It's time! Time for men! Not men-children! The men-children tend to like the immature (different from young) ones like themselves. They're the creeper 35 year old scoping out the 19 year old freshman. I guess it makes sense cause their maturity levels are copacetic ( a great 90's term in my mind).

Speaking of...

I guess the rub is... there's a lot of 18 year old 30 year olds out there. A lot. And there are maybe a few 24 year old 35 year olds out there. A few. It really is a state of mind (and life and choices and emotional competence). I've gone out with a few almost 23 year olds over the last handful of months (my ward is swimming with them!) and truly, it's not the number, it's just where they are in life; somewhere I've already been. They are 23 year old boys and that's okay cause they're 23. I expect 23 year old mind sets and lifestyles and super jumbo nachos for dinner and sleeping in a heap of dirty clothes on a dorm floor. The 26 year old 18 year olds though? Mmmm... PASS. Of the 26+ I expect some leafy greens and a laundry basket.

Enough of my commentary - read the below. It's entertaining and makes a little bit of sense. And how many things during your typical work day do you read things that are entertaining and make a little sense? Yep, that's what I thought. You're welcome.

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The Office’s Mindy Kaling on Why You Need a Man, Not a Boy

The funniest woman on TV, The Office’s Mindy Kaling, serves up some astonishingly helpful relationship advice in this exclusive excerpt from her new book, Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me? Where have you been all our lives, Mindy?

By Mindy Kaling

Mindy Kaling is an Emmy-nominated writer and star of The Office. Her book hits shelves this month, click here to order a copy!

Sometimes I eavesdrop on people.
I could rationalize it—oh, this is good anthropological research for characters I’m writing—but it’s basically just nosiness. It also helps me gauge where I’m at: Am I normal? Am I doing the correct trendy cardio exercises? Am I reading the right books? Is gluten still lame? It was through eavesdropping that I learned that you could buy fresh peanut butter at Whole Foods from a machine that grinds it in front of you. I had wasted so much of my life eating stupid old already-ground peanut butter. So, yeah, I highly recommend a little nosiness once in a while.

Recently I listened in on two attractive thirtyish women talking over brunch. I heard the following:

Girl #1 (pretty girl, Lululemon yoga pants, great body): Jeremy just finished his creative writing program at Columbia. But now he wants to maybe apply to law school.
Girl #2 (tiny girl, sheet of black hair, strangely huge breasts): Oh, God.
Lululemon: What?
32D: How many grad schools is he going to go to?
Lululemon: I know. But it’s not his fault. No publishers are buying short stories from unfamous people. Basically, you have to be Paris Hilton to sell books these days.
32D: For the 10 years that Jeremy has been out of college doing entry-level job after entry-level job and grad school, you’ve had a job that has turned into a career.
Lululemon: Yeah, so?
32D: Jeremy’s a boy. You need a man.

Lululemon did not take this well, as I’d anticipated. I felt bad for Lulu because I’ve been Lulu. It’s really hard when you realize the guy you’ve been dating is basically a high schooler at heart. It makes you feel like Mary Kay Letourneau. It’s the worst.

Until I was 30, I dated only boys. I’ll tell you why: Men scared the sh*t out of me. Men know what they want. Men own alarm clocks. Men sleep on a mattress that isn’t on the floor. Men buy new shampoo instead of adding water to a nearly empty bottle of shampoo. Men make reservations. Men go in for a kiss without giving you some long preamble about how they’re thinking of kissing you. Men wear clothes that have never been worn by anyone else before.

OK, maybe men aren’t exactly like this. But this is what I’ve cobbled together from the handful of men I know or know of, ranging from Heathcliff Huxtable to Theodore Roosevelt to my dad. The point: Men know what they want, and that is scary.
What I was used to was boys.

Boys are adorable. Boys trail off their sentences in an appealing way. Boys get haircuts from their roommate, who “totally knows how to cut hair.” Boys can pack up their whole life and move to Brooklyn for a gig if they need to. Boys have “gigs.” Boys are broke. And when they do have money, they spend it on a trip to Colorado to see a music festival.

Continued (page 2 of 3)

By Mindy Kaling

Boys can talk for hours with you in a diner at three in the morning because they don’t have regular work hours. But they suck to date when you turn 30.
When I was 25, I went on exactly four dates with a much older guy whom I’ll call Peter Parker. I’m calling him Peter Parker because, well, it’s my story, and I’ll name a guy I dated after Spider-Man’s alter ego if I want to.

Peter Parker was a comedy writer who was a smidgen more accomplished than I but who talked about everything with the tone of “you’ve got a lot to learn, kid.” He gave me lots of unsolicited advice about how to get a job “if The Office got canceled.” After a while, it became clear that he thought The Office would get canceled, and by our fourth and last date, that he clearly thought it should get canceled.
Why am I bringing up Peter Parker? Because he was the first real man I dated. An insufferable yet legit man.
Peter owned a house. It wasn’t ritzy or anything, but he’d really made it a home. The walls were painted; there was art in frames. He had installed a flat-screen TV and speakers. There was just so much screwed into the walls, so much that would make you lose your deposit. I marveled at the brazenness of it. Peter’s house reminded me more of my house growing up than of a college dorm room. I’d never seen that before.

Owning a house obviously wasn’t enough to make me want to keep dating Peter. Like I said, he was kind of a condescending dick. But I observed in Peter a quality that I knew I wanted in the next guy I dated seriously: He wasn’t afraid of commitment.

At this point you might want to smack me and say: “Are you seriously just another grown woman talking about how she wants a man who isn’t afraid of commitment?” Let me explain! I’m not talking about commitment to romantic relationships. I’m talking about commitment to things—houses, jobs, neighborhoods. Paying a mortgage. When men hear women want a commitment, they think it means commitment to a romantic relationship, but that’s not it. It’s a commitment to not floating around anymore. I want a guy who is entrenched in his own life. Entrenched is awesome.

So I’m into men now, even though they can be frightening. I want a schedule-keeping, waking-up-early, wallet-carrying, picture-hanging man. I don’t care if he takes prescription drugs for cholesterol or hair loss. (I don’t want that, but I can handle it. I’m a grown-up too.)

I know I’m only marginally qualified to be giving advice. I’m not married, I frequently use my debit card to buy things that cost less than three dollars, and my bedroom is so untidy it looks like vandals ransacked the Anthropologie sale section. I’m kind of a mess. I did, however, fulfill a childhood dream of writing, producing and acting in television and movies. Armed with that confidence, alongside a lifelong love of the sound of my own voice, I’m giving you this bit of wisdom: When you turn 30—maybe even before—a fun thing to try is dating men. It’ll be like freshly ground peanut butter, times a million.

---------> SO CITED

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Here's to men!

I'm over it... I think

2011-10-21T14:27:00.004-06:00

5 years ago I became a Diet Coke drinker.

I remember the day it all began.

There I was, 7:00am at the high school where I was doing my student teaching, and staring bleary eyed at the lesson plans before me.

"I can't do this... I'm so tired!"

I remember thinking that. I remember it because I was, in fact, so very tired and I did, in fact, feel I couldn't do it. It was one of those really emotional tipping points where lying under a desk in the fetal position seemed a completely healthy way to deal with tiredness and stressness.

I needed something to lift my spirits... or mostly, my eyelids. I needed something to wake me the hell up.

And then I remembered something...

I remembered my 11th grade Honors English teacher and his almost religious devotion to his gigantic Maverick mug brimming with what he deemed life-saving elixir - Diet Coke. I remember the quips in my education classes or wandering the halls through various Jr. high and high schools: "I need my Diet Coke this morning or I'll never make it!" or as an excuse for memory lapse, "Sorry I forgot to put on pants... I haven't had my Diet Coke yet." Or perhaps, "I didn't mean to staple his hand to the desk, I haven't had my Diet Coke yet." The officer would then nod and look around for a staple remover.

I assumed also that it must be the DIET variety pegged for ritualistic consumption as that somehow makes it less of a vice than a pure sugary Cola. Vices have limits and apparently aspartame is the saving grace of caffeinated beverage addicts. It's like heroine without the... dirty needle. It's just a clean needle. If only I knew more about illegal substances - then that allusion could've been really effective!

Plus it's referred to in the Mormon underground as "LDS coffee." What greater evidence did I need?

That morning... I sought out a dealer.

I found it in the teacher's lounge glowing iridescent in the morning light. I walked toward the machine and deposited my coins; glancing over my shoulder as bodily shadows drifted in and out with their own morning pick-me-ups. I was among friends.

The Diet Coke spewed forth, and I took it back up to my classroom before unscrewing the cap. I wanted my first taste to be in private.

PsssssssssTUH! Glug. Cough. Sniff. Eye water.... mmmmm....

A Diet Coke addict was born.

5 years later, I am lying in bed thinking, how did it come to this? Since that morning so long ago, I've procured a can or small fountain (yes, I do exercise some restraint thank you) Diet Coke every morning for the extra boost of "get me through this day." Before that morning so long ago, I hadn't so much as glanced at a carbonated beverage. No not once. But now, I was becoming a slave to it. Well, more like an indentured servant though I'm not sure what the agreement ever was. I reflected on the many Sundays when I had neglected to stalk my fridge the Saturday before with a daily dosage and resorted to putting on a hood and dark shades to drive to the local gas station just for a fix. I recall many times being overcome with giddyness at the prospect of a 20 pack of DC on sale for $12 (Smiths!). Of becoming disgruntled and irritable by 11:00am if I hadn't guzzled a can of happy juice. My mood, my finances, and even my religious orthodoxy were effected!

Then there's my health to consider.

I'm one of those people who never got cavities. Ever. Until... that is... about 3 years ago. My diet hadn't changed, I'm not a big "candy" muncher, and yet, my cavity incidents had gone up I'd say 80%. Meaning I was getting 2 cavities a year as opposed to NONE (don't check that percentage you dork - no one likes a math geek). May not seem like a big to-do to YOU! But for someone who doesn't get cavities, brushes twice a day, flosses, fluorides, and doesn't eat a lot of candy on top of never getting cavities anyway... it seemed very strange!

Then there's the indigestion. Somewhat genetic. I am slightly lactose intolerant and my Grandma said I have what's called the "Petty back and the Petty stomach." This means my lower back tends to ache at the end of a long day on my feet and always has done. This is an aside... I also experience "sour stomach" with anything that's not bland or covered in gravy. The starches and I have always gotten along... acid substances? Not as much. And over the past 3 or so years, I feel my scrambling for two Tums has increased and/or elevated to carrying a flask of Pepto Bismol in my purse. Sweet stomach coating liquid.

Last night, as I lay in bed contemplating life and various other things, I felt a little sick to my stomach and deposited two Tums down the old gullet. It was then I noticed an empty Diet Coke can on my dresser table and realized, woah.... I'm killing myself with aspartame. It makes my tummy hurt as it eats slowly away at my esophageal lining day in and day out. It erodes my enamel. It rules my mornings. It probably is keeping me from getting a raise!

Diet Coke, my friends, is the enemy! And I've been letting it slowly wind its flaxen cords around me for years! YEARS!

Well no more I tell you! I'm threw. I'm over it. Me and the DC? We're broken up for good. For the next couple weeks - it's me and Mr. Aspirin and then me and independence! I won't be a slave to substance and I won't let my insides be eaten up by a delicious little Carmel colored pathogen with fizz! (Realistically - I'll contain my DC shenanigans to a weekend movie or dinner.... or holiday... or with pizza... what?). And I'm very curious to see if my Tums consumption reduces and I once again am awarded a sugar free lolly for having no cavities for the fifth time in a row! In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if I even grew a little taller.

So let it be written, so let it be done.

On becoming an old bag...

2011-10-15T21:32:00.000-06:00

October is a great month. There are a lot of reasons why this is true and we could spend a great deal of time (not to mention the lists I could create!) going through all the reasons why October is probably the best month out of the year. However, today I'd like to focus on one reason: my Birthday.

Yes, I'm aware this reason tops a lot of "Why October is the Best Month Ever" lists out there, and to be certain that reason holding at least one of the top 3 spots of that list only makes sense. This year, however, my list was not like most of yours. This year, I was somewhat (or A LOT) dreading my Birthday.

I've always felt that people hating their Birthday was not only a super old person thing, but TERRIBLY cliche. In fact, I think the "hating of my birthday" was something Hollywood implanted into our minds as something everyone hates and everyone discusses hating and everyone can make jokes about hating or mock other people for or create some sort of standard accessible social cue. I think some of those cliches are just throwing the many "unfunny" or un-opinioned or generally socially awkward people out there a bone. "Here ya go generally socially awkward unfunny indifferent person... here is a standard joke or piece of cynicism or commonly shared experience you can always use because we've made it so EVERYONE can hate their birthdays. It will never fail!" It's like reverting to the weather to avoid discussing the elephant in the room "Oh Aunt Jane, let us discuss how beautiful this weekend was rather than how your two-bit hooker of a daughter went and got herself knocked up again!" Thank you Hollywood for providing such fodder for the inept. We've all had to resort to such outs in our lives and I for one, am not above the occasional "cliched" bit of cynicism.

Well come to find, this month I would find this socially inexperienced person commenting on the dreaded "birthday" as incredibly insightful and wise. "Why yes! I TOO hate my Birthday! For I am growing older." Ironically, that may be the measure of age is when you stop crossing off days until your Pretty Princess Birthday Party and instead think up ways to avoid said occurrence altogether; like straddling international date lines. Which as we know, only gets us a few days if we're lucky. There's always cryogenic freezing I suppose - but I feel I missed my time to do that. 24 was my peak. If I were going to freeze my bodily time - that was the year. Hindsight is always 20/20 I suppose.

This year I turned 28. Here is where my crisis comes in. When I was a wee 19 year old first moving to SLC and attending my bran new Singles Ward, everyone I met was 28. I kid you not. Inevitably conversations would lead to those around me pronouncing their age and it would always be... 28. Once in awhile a 26... but mostly... 28. The stranger thing is - even as the years passed - every new person I met in my various Singles Wards or standing in line at grocery stores was always 28.

(That's actually not true - not everyone being 28 part but the meeting people in a grocery line part. I mean - have you really actually ever MET someone in a grocery store line? Me neither... Hollywood cliche suckers us again!).

And usually, they were 28, single, somewhat resentful, and of course, haters of Birthdays. They also always seemed to have just a tinge of desperation... as if they were running out of time. Time to get married? Time for children? Well, maybe. I'm not sure as each case was likely different - but I always got the distinct feeling of anxiousness from these groups of 28's... and particularly the women. As if they felt they were walking the final mile and it was all downhill from here. 28 became a symbol to me. Anyone who was single was old at 28 (thanks a bunch Utah). Anyone who was on the cusp of inevitable spinsterhood... well... they were 28. Any 20 something Peter Pans were never going to grow up if they hadn't by now... at 28. The hopeless? 28. The angry? 28. The basement dwelling video game playing part-time jobbers? 28. The pickins were slim... the chances were minute. 28 is the end of happiness and the acceptance of a lack luster existence!

I never thought I'd be 28.

Even when I turned 27 - a fantastic year - I never thought I'd be 28.

So in about August - it finally started to sink in. Whether I liked it or not - I was becoming a 28. And I felt that anxiety that I had seen in all the eyes of the many many 28's in my life. I felt like I was running out of time... that I was at a crucial tipping point and if that thing that I wasn't sure of didn't happen soon, well you can forget it sister because it likely won't now that you're 28. I admit, I'd never taken the idea of "biological clock" seriously either. I guess at 28 the ticking is turned up exponentially. I never thought I would have to start considering the idea of not being physically able to produce children. Yes, a little dramatic seeing as Hollywood has proven that women can bear children into their 40's, and Sariah in the Bible had a baby WELL into her 90's, but NEVER THE LESS! That's Hollywood and that's ONE person... in the HISTORY of the WORLD! I felt a squeeze on my soul... and perhaps a little proverbial nudge in my ovaries. Was I becoming one of those 28's? I'd heard of mid-life crisis - but quarter life and some change crisis? No one ever talks about those. But they're real my friends. Stop ignoring them.

August and September were hit and miss. I reflected on my existence - the possibilities that lay before me - and the sheer frustration that I was becoming one of those people that dreaded their Birthday! I didn't want to be one of those people and surely turning 28 wasn't the horror I had always witnessed, right?

Well, 28 came and here's the secret - I've never felt better!

Mostly because I received this pop-up Birthday card bearing a chef-cat. How great is that?

But also, instead of dreading what I always thought a 28 year old single LDS female was, I decided to make sure I wasn't that person by simply choosing not to be. Why should I let a silly number effect my outlook and hopes about life? Why should I let a number ruin one of the greatest reasons I love October? Why should 28 suddenly make me into some baby-hungry psycho maniac?? Cause really, those will come in good time anyway.... and I have a Zooey to boot!

I decided instead of dreading my birthday, which would inevitably lead to more dread, to love my Birthday just like I did before I turned 28. I planned myself a little intimate soup party with close friends. I wanted to celebrate another year of health and happiness and living in America and freedom and the fact I had made it to 28 smiling and intact. In fact, I had made it to 28 still looking like a 20 year old and THAT my friends is indeed something to celebrate! Celebrate good genes! Celebrate being a wee person! I always knew this 5 foot 1 business would come in handy.

I've had to vocalize my age a few times since my Birthday and actually, I feel really great about it. I'm a 28. I've had some significant experiences, learned a lot of valuable lessons, and have had discussions with 23 year olds with 3 years of their freaking undergrad left and still subsisting on Mac&Cheese and am incredibly grateful I never EVER have to do that again. If you really think you want to be 23 or 21 again - go ahead and interact with a gaggle of them. I guarantee you will find a greater appreciation for where you are now and shudder at how far they have yet to go.

My goal as a 28 year old is to always be happy on my Happy Birthdays and never lie about my age. You heard me! Ask this woman her age! And she will tell you happily! "Why yes sir, no offense taken. For I am 28! And I am very happy to be right where I am doing what I'm doing and pressing forward for another year! So let them eat cake!" (Especially if its Grandma's recipe for chocolate rum cake.... nothing like a drop of rum to take the edge off).

And in the spirit of my delusions - lets go ahead and not mention 30 okay? Baby steps.

Little Zo Zo to Big Puppy Girl

2011-10-11T18:21:00.000-06:00

My how time flies...

It was only yesterday she was a wee one...

And now, she's HUGE! And likely will get even bigger. Yish!