Love Thyself

I've been pondering a lot lately on the importance of love for one's self. Once or twice I've heard it said that a man cannot love anyone else without first loving himself. Until recently, I hadn't given the idea much consideration. And now I think I've figured out why it is that self-love is so essential in the romantic equation.

We each live in our own world, totally subjective to our own personal perspective. We often don't realize that when we look at something, another witness, viewing the same thing at the same time, sees something totally different. That being said, a man who does not love himself cannot conceive of the notion that others see him in a very different light. He cannot internalize the idea that others may see someone worth loving.

A relationship is a bond between two people forged by the sharing of one's self with another. In a strong, close, loving relationship, one trusts pieces of one's self to one special other. Pieces that they do not let others near. One shares their good, their bad, their hopes and fears, their strengths, weaknesses, their beauty, and their ugliness. And they do so without reservations, but rather by trusting absolutely that those secret pieces of themself are safe and accepted.
A man who does not love himself has no hope that another can love him due to his faults. He hides his flaws away from those who would gladly accept his imperfections because they love his virtues more. He holds the world at arm's length, afraid that if any come too near, they'll see him as something less upon closer inspection.
It doesn't matter that those on the outside see him without prejudice - and not because they think he has no flaws. They know his past disappointments, but they also know his dreams of the future are beautiful. They're aware of his fears, but they also see that his ambitions are noble. They know he has failed at times, but they believe in him still. They know he is greater and more wonderful than he perceives. They know he is worth loving. And they do love him.
But because he does not love himself, he cannot be happy sharing what her perceives as an unworthy life with them. He cannot truly, deeply, and gladly give himself over and love another.
This most assuredly breaks the hearts of those who are left loving him, refusing to believe they love in vain. When love is unrequitted, the giver cannot long sustain happiness in caring for another. They endure because they know he is worth loving, but they love with a broken heart.

Furthermore, a man who has no love for himself sees the virtues in others and places them on a pedestal. He deludes himself into believing that those around him are higher, greater, more perfect than he is. And so, when he makes up his mind to let someone else in and tries to draw closer to them, he is left disappointed. He finds that the person he has come to know is imperfect, like himself. And since he can't forgive his own faults, he neither can accept another's.
He'll never find someone perfect enough for him to love in a way that can last against this kind of judgement. No one's that perfect. We all have vices.

It should, of course, be our desire to pursue a better way for ourselves. The Atonement exists so that we can improve ourselves and be a little more perfect. But we can't wait to obtain perfection before we find happiness in ourselves.
Please show yourself a little kindness. Forgive yourself. For your own sake and the sakes of those who care for you, give yourself a little love. If you reserve your love for only perfect people, you'll live a very lonely, self-loathing, loveless life. Learn to love imperfect people. Even, and most especially, yourself.


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Quote - "We come to love not by finding a perfect person, but by learning to see an imperfect person perfectly," Sam Keen
Music - "So Close," Enchanted
Mood - Healing is a two-steps-forward-one-giant-step-back kind of process

The Best Song On the Enchanted Sound Track

You’re in my arms
And all the world is calm
The music playing on for only two
So close together
And when I’m with you
So close to feeling alive

A life goes by
Romantic dreams will stop
So I bid mine goodbye and never knew
So close was waiting, waiting here with you
And now forever I know
All that I want is to hold you
So close

So close to reaching that famous happy end
Almost believing this was not pretend
And now you’re beside me and look how far we’ve come
So far we are so close

How could I face the faceless days
If I should lose you now?
We’re so close
To reaching that famous happy end
And almost believing this was not pretend
Let’s go on dreaming for we know we are
So close
So close
And still so far

Why, Thank You, Kind Sir

Today I'm just going to gibber about one of the nicest compliments I can remember having received.

You may recall that I spoke in my last post of my habit of casting away compliments aimed at me. If you cared to try it (which I don't recommend), you'd find it's a habit that comes remarkably easy.
It's not that a girl can't appreciate the effort when the guys she's acquainted with comment on her appearance or charm or what-have-you. But those things are easy enough to say and just as easy to disregard.
It's all well and good to hear: "You're pretty," "You're fun," "Nice hair," "You're cool," "You're sweet," and... yeah... whatever. Thanks.
Any such compliment coming from a gal's male friends can be taken with a grain of salt because, whether intentional or not, it seems to be laced with a hint of something that sounds like, "Someone else is going to think you're gorgeous and fall hopelessly in love," or "You're wonderful - for some other guy."

Compare that now with how it might feel to hear someone whose judgment you trust, and whose opinion you respect, saying, "I would consider you worth dating myself."

...D'you see the difference?

The latter may not even have to be intended as a compliment, but rather stated simply as an honest confession. But it shows her a degree of admiration that any of those other compliments could never hope to measure up to.

To the studly man honest enough and brave enough to give such a compliment, I say thank you. Most sincerely and delightedly.


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Quote - "The difference between the right word and the almost-right word is the difference between the lightning and a lightning bug," Mark Twain
Music - "Affirmation," Savage Garden
Mood - Beautiful

The Mouths of Babes

I'm in such a happy place, and I just have to let the world know it! Why am I happy? For a couple of reasons. I'll just prattle about a few of the bigger ones.

First of all, while I still have a lot of issues to sort through where my education's concerned, I've just made a decision that I feel very good about that is going to make my goals considerably simpler.
I chose Illustration as the program I'd pursue because I've spent my entire life creating characters and putting them on paper. I've gotten fairly good at it, if I may say so. And I agree with the idea that you should make the thing you love to do most your life's work.
I wouldn't call drawing the thing I love doing most of all. It's one of several talents and interests I've developed to the point of feeling skilled. I don't have any one thing I love doing most - except perhaps playing with children. Acting, writing, baking, history, photography, heck - even romping around in the woods can be made into a profession. My point - there are a number of things I could do with my education and career that I could enjoy just as much as illustration.
So I've taken a step back and examined the option I'd decided on, and have become very keenly aware of how difficult even being accepted into this program is. (Less than a third of the applicants make it in - and then they have to continually re-apply, competing with in-coming talent all over again.) I won't even know if I can get into it for another half a year at least. And on top of that, I'm not sure what I'd do career-wise with a BFA in Illustration once I've graduated. That's a lot of extra effort for something I don't have my heart absolutely set on, and I've got plenty of other hoops (fiery ones) to jump through where my education's concerned besides.
So let's look at some of the other options I mentioned above.
Children - becoming a mother will take care of that one. But that still leaves me in need to a career path to follow.
Acting - there's another uber-competitive program intended only for those die-hards who are truly devoted to it mind, body, and soul. I am more devoted to some other goals than I could be to that particular career option (see the children bit above).
Writing - while I have every intention of someday writing a novel (or three), I do not ever wish to be an English major. All they do is write papers. And that's the stuff of my nightmares.
Baking - I figure I bake enough birthday cakes and donuts for my friends as it is that I'm not really hurting for time in the kitchen. And BYU doesn't have a culinary arts program anyway.
Photography - another hobby I really enjoy. Traveling as a wildlife photographer could be amazing... but could also get lonely, I think. Plus, the Photography program is also one of those that requires acceptance and continual high levels of competition.
History - Hmm... Here's a subject I've always enjoyed and done well in. I don't have to wait half a year for someone else to tell me I'm good enough for it. It's a fairly low number of credits, which means I can branch out a bit with a minor - or maybe even two if I get really ambitious. (Or better yet - I could just graduate before my kids do...)
I've also found a minor to go along with it - Anthropology offers some interesting classes that delve into fun things like mythology, cultures, and even some archeology (Now that's fun! ^.^).
But what would I do with a bachelor's in History once I'm out in the real world? Hm... Perhaps nothing. But it's a great stepping block up to a master's in Library Sciences. I really can't imagine a job that could make me happier than reading books for a living, so if I did have to choose one thing to be my dream job, I guess 'librarian' wins. ^_________^()
So that's it. I have a goal. One that won't be such a headache to make a reality. I'm changing my major to History and working toward a minor in Anthropology. I feel very, very good about this decision.

What else makes me happy? I have a list of goals I'd like to accomplish in my lifetime in order to make myself a better person. (I think most of us have such a list.) One of the vaguer goals on that list is to overcome my dislike for something I have an aversion to. I've thought of the perfect something. It's actually something I enjoyed as a kid, but it was unfortunately spoiled for me by sour teachers in my teenage years. Science. This is a shocker for some of you, I know. However, it's not all-encompassing. I doubt any miracle on this green planet could convince me to enjoy that demonic subject known as biology. But I can recall a time (before high school bio) when I was at the very top of my science class. Mrs. Waggy was my all-time favorite teacher. (Guess which subject she taught.) She had to ask me to stop participating in class because I was making my classmates lazy. Her classes consisted mainly of things like dinosaurs, volcanoes, plate tectonics, rocks - geology. I loved it. I'd forgotten that there were branches of science other than biology, and I'm afraid I've learned to shy away from anything labeled 'SCIENCE' with a disgusted disposition because of that one bad egg. And now I have every intention of fixing that. I'm so excited to be able to take classes again! I've got this all-new zeal for learning, and I'm itching to make it happen!

I'm also happy because I've been developing some new skills.
1- I've baked two (soon to be three) cakes in the last month, and have been absolutely satisfied with the end results - no easy task for an artistic perfectionist-type with the world's greatest cake decorator for a grandmother to set the standard.
2- Two or three months ago, I started playing Ultimate Frisbee once a week with some friends in my ward. I went because those friends pressured me into it. Not because I really wanted to be there. And it showed. I lacked sufficient confidence to do anything but freak out and cry for help as I dropped any projectile that flew in my direction.
But now... I CAN CATCH THE THING! And not just when the passes are easy. The fear's totally gone. Tonight, I played so well that I can honestly consider myself one of the better players we had on the field. I'm enjoying it, and I feel valuable to the people I'm playing with. It's one heckuva confidence booster. ^__________^ I'm being useful at the same time that I'm getting more physically fit!

I am happy because of the honesty one receives and shares with their real friends.

And why else am I happy? Because I've made up my mind to be.
I've been more than a little self-critical lately. I've made a bad habit of brushing off compliments from others with self-directed insults. While I was talking to my baby sister Keira on the phone yesterday, I got blind-sided with a compliment I couldn't just ignore, though. I'm not even sure why she said it; I can't remember what came before it. She just said very simply, "You're so pretty. You're prettier than me." And it absolutely floored me. This beautiful, perfect little cherub-child with those big blue eyes, dimples, and gorgeous golden curls that are nearly as long as she is tall thinks -I'm- prettier than -she- is? After she said it, I tried to deny it, but I couldn't. How can you argue over something like that with a 4-year-old? You can't because you can't teach her how to look down on herself, and she learns everything by example. And she can't lie about something like that. She's too young to think of sparing someone's feelings with sugar-coated half-truths. She tells it exactly the way she sees it.
So I've decided that I can't continue to criticize myself as I have. I can't think negatively about my appearance or weight or any of that. I've decided that it's time I start taking those compliments to heart and looking for the good things other people seem to see when they look at me.

I have a lot of reasons to be grateful right now. And I can't think of one good reason not to be because I don't want to. I'm happy and I'm choosing to stay that way.


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Quote - "To wish you were somebody else is to waste the person you are," Unknown
Music - "The Curse" and "The Melody Within," Rigoletto
Mood - Happy

Sink Me!

"They seek him here,
They seek him there.
Those Frenchies seek him everywhere.
Is he in heaven?
Or is he in... hell? *gasp*
That damned, elusive pimpernel."

Hold the phones. All the plans have just changed. It's official: I am going to marry the Scarlet Pimpernel.

It's a slightly embarrassing fact that I've had a pseudo-secretive love for historical romance novels for years. Yes, they're cliche, and yes, they're unrealistic, and yes, they're everything else you've ever heard about them... And yes, I love 'em for it. >.<() Whaddya know? Turns out I'm a sappy romantic girl after all...

Sir Percy: "The only power that I can see at present, mademoiselle, is the power of your beauty."
Marguerite: "Well, beauty is in the eye of the beholder, Sir Percy."
Sir Percy: "This beholder is enchanted."

SQUEEEEEEEEE! XD

I watched the Scarlet Pimpernel for the first time today, and it carried me away to a world where men are noble and hold themselves to codes of honor and dignity. Women don't have to play tough and aren't pleasantly surprised when a man treats her with the good manners one shows a lady because chivalry is already expected. It's a world wherein people aren't afraid to make their romantic intentions toward each other known and they act upon their emotions, rather than hiding them out of fear of another's rejection. It's the kind of world where men like Sir Percy Blakeney, Bart. are allowed to exist.

Marguerite: "I don't know whether you're mad, or..."
Sir Percy: "Desperately in love? 'Tis all the same. Tell me, if you can, that you do not feel it, too."

There's a line in the movie where Marguerite describes the sort of man she wanted - "...the sort of man a woman can look up to. That she could turn to in trouble." At a glance, it seems so often that these romances set in older times portray women as needy and incapable of handling their own lives without the assistance of the dashing rogue that suddenly enters their world. They're dependent on the men around them in a totally patriarchal society. It's a veritable plethora of fuel for the feminists of the world.
For me, the idea of a woman relying on a man isn't about lacking self-sufficiency or independence at all. It's about having someone you have enough faith in to trust to be both capable and caring enough to look after your best interests. There's absolutely nothing wrong with turning to someone else for guidance and support when you're certain that they love you too much to have any priorities above your happiness and well-being. That's why I want so badly to find a man who absolutely adores me. I'm a pretty passionate person, and I throw myself whole-heartedly into my relationships - and not just the romantic ones. I give everything I have to the people I'm close to. And I've burned myself out my fair share of times because I've given more of myself to those I care about than I've received in turn. Therefore, it's crucial to me to find someone who can adore me and share as much of himself with me as I'll give to him. That's someone I would trust explicitly to take care of me. Not because I need it. But because I want to place that trust in him and can.

Sir Percy: "What has poor Armand done to be condemned to matrimony?"

There's so much more I'd love to go on about - from Sir Percy's quick wit to his smug grin to his dashing heroics. But alas, it's 6 am, I've been freezing outside in the rain for hours because I can't get an internet connection inside my apartment, and my computer's battery is about to give up the ghost. So this is where the circumstances dictate that I bring this half-baked drivel to a close.


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Quote - "You must tell me all about yourself, in every detail, but oh, so slowly, so very slowly, so that it takes a very, very long time," Sir Percy Blakeney, Bart.
Music - "Dreams to Dream," Linda Rondstadt
Mood - In love with love

Joyeux Anniversaire!

I am so ridiculously happy! I've just had the most amazing birthday I can ever remember. And I can't stress that enough. Of course, most years, my birthday just kind of passes like any other day of the year. I have cake with my immediate family, but there's not much more to it than that. ...But not this year!

I went to class this morning expecting to make up a test I'd missed (due to adding the class late). We did our mile-and-a-half run, then I asked the coach if I had to take the test on my birthday - just to be cute. And he said no. There's another girl in the class who needs to take it, so I can just take it next week when she does. Score!

On my way home, I stopped by DI to look for a dress I'd seen last week and decided against, then regretted afterward. And I found it! The world was so nice to me yesterday. ...Even though it was cold and rainy and I got a brain freeze driving home on Zoey. ^___^()

So I came home, found a fun candy bar card and balloons taped to the door by the roomies, took a hot shower, and dolled myself up because I had a new skirt I wanted to wear, and by-dangit, I'm allowed to feel beautiful on my birthday! And I did.
I called home and was greeted with the darling sound of Keira singing Happy Birthday to me, and I laughed myself silly while I listened to Mom trying to wrestle the shaving cream from her in the background. XD

Even though I promised myself I wouldn't prepare any food all day (because I've done nothing -but- cook all week), I put another layer of glaze on the donuts, touched up my cake, and then it was time for the party.
This is the part where I just have to state how wonderful my friends are. THEY'RE AMAZING!
We held the party in MAN205, and the boys made it so stinking awesome. We had streamers and sugar and presents! The sugar I'd expected because I made most of it. The presents I didn't really expect. After all, my friends are poor starving college students too. Autumn gave me enough flour and sugar to feed my boys for... well... a while. Haha. Hyrum and Steve got me a spiffy tapestry, a Captain Planet t-shirt, and best of all, the Best of Bowie! XD I kind of awkward-hug-attacked them over it. Heheh... ^.^()

Also, I've never heard the Happy Birthday song sung the way it was - nor will I ever hear that exact sound again. We had a room full of RM's, and they all sang in their own mission tongues at once. I couldn't stop laughing through it. Then I blew out every one of my twenty polka-dotted candles in one puff, and no I will not tell you what I wished for. In fact, I almost -didn't- make a wish. Hope I didn't think of it too late. For some reason, I almost always forget that part every year...
I was uber-pleased with the way my cake turned out. I'm right proud of it, I am. I'm excited for MomMom's cake to arrive too. I have the most amazing grandma. I don't know anyone else lucky enough to get a grandma who will ship them a birthday cake from 2,000 miles away.

So after the consumption of massive amounts of sugar, the die-hards accompanied me to Classic Skating for the most outstanding part of the night. Nevermind the scuzzy little preteens that were all over the floor, it was amazing. Hyrum kept requesting our favorite 80's rock numbers, and we air banded it up to songs those little skeezes were too young and uncultered to know or appreciate. Haha! XD We played tag around the rink, belted it out with Bon Jovi, Journey, and Billy Idol, danced it up with ourselves, and showed off our mad sk8R skillz. Hyrum and Steve made sure I had at least one guy to hold hands with during each of the slow songs, Korrie kept me giggling all night, we had a good laugh over Andrew getting hit on by a high schooler, and of course, the other guys were a blast. I didn't fall once (thought not for lack of trying on mine and Steve's part), and I have no blisters on my feet - pretty incredible, I must say. We topped the night off with a rousing chorus of God Bless the USA, then drove home to the soothing sound of Bowie at his best.

It was the perfect climax to a perfect day. I'm so grateful for the friends that made my birthday such a wonderful day for me. Extra cudos to Hyrum for prodding me into making the party plans (which I wouldn't have done without the encouragement) - then being patient as I changed my mind about them over and over, and to Steve for keeping me company through large chunks of the baking preparations I've been involved with all week. They spoil me, and I absolutely adore them for it.

I'm so lucky and so blessed. AND I'M TWENTY!!!!!!! XD


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Quote - "The happiest moments my heart knows are those in which it is pouring forth its affections to a few esteemed characters," Thomas Jefferson
Music - "The Final Countdown," Europe
Mood - Jubilant

The Peppermint Twist

I've been very domestic today. I made dinner for myself and the men of Man-205, which consisted of my first non-cheating lasagna and garlic bread. The general consensus is that it turned out splendidly, and I was most happy.
After we ate, I got to work on a recipe I've been craving for some time: Great-Grandma Evelyn's fried, glazed donuts. In the end, I walked away with only one mention-worthy grease burn and had a table covered with glazy, donuty, gooey goodness that my friends seemed to be enjoying whole-heartedly.

This is something that makes my heart very happy. I enjoy cooking because it makes me feel productive. I enjoy sharing food with people because it feels like worth-while service. I enjoy succeeding in my efforts to make -good- food because it makes me feel like part of a legacy.
I come from a family of food-oriented people.

My Great-Grandma Evelyn died when I was 2, so I don't remember anything about her. But I've grown up with references to her skills in the kitchen (and skills with pet skunks, but that's another story). Her recipes were one of the most coveted things left when she passed away, and my mom was lucky enough to get them.

My mom's mother is well-known all over our county and the surrounding areas for her cakes. She bakes and sells them from her home to just about everyone. I don't think I've ever known her kitchen without cake projects in progress on the table and colored icings beckoning my fingers.

My dad's mother has always been a homemaker who specializes in making every meal a feast. It's down-home country cooking at it's absolute stick-to-your-ribs finest.

My Uncle Dwayne runs his own professional catering service called Puttin' On the Ritz. I've been catering for most of my life.

When I was a kid, my mom owned and operated a small restaurant/ice cream parlor called the Peppermint Twist. It was a cute little place, painted red and white all over. The food was amazing. It was generally considered the best place to eat for miles and miles around. (And that's saying something, especially if you've had one of Eugene's sandwiches - which I'm assuming most of you haven't... Anyway - they're legendary.)

They're all food people. It makes me want to be a food person. Someone knows what they're doing, who can make food that really impresses other people. I'm not there yet, but I'm working on it. And I'm content (as long as my friends are willing to let me fatten them up) to keep on working on it.

I've had a lot of dreams I'd love to see fulfilled someday - operating my own library, a house with my own murals painted on the walls, belting it out on Broadway, publishing my own stories... A lot of things that would leave my own personal stamp for others to see and appreciate.

One dream I've loved entertaining is that someday I could resurrect the Peppermint Twist. I'd change it up a bit to suit my own style - I like the idea of running a bakery/ice cream parlor better than a real restaurant. It'd be my own, but in a lot of ways, it would also be a tribute to the people I came from. I could bake and decorate cakes like my grandma's, make Evelyn's donut and potato rolls recipes, mom's dessert creations from the original Peppermint Twist, and so many others.
I could design the whole shop with my own artistic touches. I can see a corner with soft couches where people can just chill out with a book, and my own little blonde-headed kids marching in after school, dumping their backpacks in a booth, and snatching a cone with their favorite flavor of ice cream (exactly like I used to do every day in my mom's shop).

I've had a lot of fun with this dream. It became especially fun when I shared it with my friend Calli a while back, and she expanded it to include a little dreaming and scheming of her own. It's exactly the sort of place she'd love to come and sit for hours, writing her would-be best-selling novels. She and I have also entertained the idea of running a book shop, so we decided that once her stories became famous, we should make this a two-part business: I'll run the production of sugary treats, and she'll sell the books.

Anyway - there's a lot more I'd like to say, but it's way too late for me to justify still being awake. That's all for now, folks.


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Quote - "Never underestimate the power of stupid people in large numbers," Anonymous
Music - "November Rain," Guns N' Roses
Mood - Useful

Rawr

You wanna know what annoys me? It annoys me when my space is intruded. By this I do not mean that I'm bothered by walking into my bedroom and finding a roommate's friend chillaxing on my bed. Nor do I mean that I do not enjoy hugs.
What I mean is - it bothers the snot out of me when I'm occupying a room (such as the living room), listening to music, and someone else walks in, parks themself on the couch, and turns on the TV. Without so much as a "Do you mind if I watch TV?" or "Would you mind turning your music down/off?" They just waltz in and flip it on, apparently expecting that I'll just go along with it and turn my music off out of consideration for them... and I do. >.< Grr...

And you know what absolutely infuriates me? Snow that falls from the sky hours before my beautiful, perfect, wonderful month of May begins. *gnashes teeth* There will be justice... Hateful, bloody, vengeful justice that causes the fires of heckydarn to tremble and makes the men responsible weep like simpering, bed wetting little girls.
And how, you may ask, can I be sure it's men who are responsible? Simple. Utah is OBVIOUSLY female because she's constantly going through these PMS-esque weather moodswings. And as we know, all women's problems can be traced back to men. So there.


..........


Quote - "I propose we leave math to the machines and go play outside," Calvin (C&H)
Music - "Real World," Matchbox 20
Mood - Trying

Big Brothers

I really hope my future first born is a boy. I think every first born should be a boy, in fact. Why is that? Because every girl deserves to have a big brother.

I have five little brothers (some of which are actually cousins, but they will forever be brothers by my reckoning). I also have five little sisters (again, some of which are cousins - we're an abnormally close family). This position has helped shape me into a little bit of a premature mother (at least in my mind). I'm protective of them. I feel responsible for them in some ways, and I miss the days when the younger ones were small enough for me to coddle and dote on.

I like being older. I really do. But there's one thing I feel like I've missed a lot - a big brother. And it's not because I didn't have one. Because I did. I mean... I do. I have an older brother, but we've never had the kind of relationship I think a brother should have with his younger siblings. I remember idolizing him as a little kid. I played with things like HotWheels, Ninja Turtles, dinosaurs, and Monster Trucks because he liked them. I wanted to be just like him. But that didn't last long. By the time I'd started school, he didn't want anything to do with me. In his eyes, I was an ugly little freak. He never had a kind thing to say about or to me. We've never really talked at all. He had his pond to fish from, I had my books to bury myself in, and we just didn't acknowledge each other. (I was glad when he stopped acknowledging me since I had fewer bruises that way.)

I guess that lack I've felt with him is the reason I adopt my close guy friends as surrogate brothers. (I did the same thing with the families of my closest friends when my own family was in the throes of divorce.) I have one particular guy friend that I feel like I can always go to for advice or venting when I'm frustrated. There really isn't a topic that I feel would be too much to discuss with him. He teases and banters with me. He puts me through the tortures of tickling. We play fight. He compliments the things that he knows I feel self-conscious about. He bullies me into having a healthy social life when I'd just let myself be a hermit. We fight all the time and I've never worried that we wouldn't still be friends at the end of the day for it. I just feel like I can relate to him and depend on him exactly the way I always felt like a girl should be able to depend on a brother.
I have other friends as well that'll tease me the same way, or offer to beat up the guys who upset me for whatever reason. (Not that I'd ever let them do it. ^.^()) It's nice feeling important like that. It's fun being able to adopt new 'big brothers.'

Anyway, that's just what's in my head right now. I'm very glad that I have such wonderful friends who look out for me and make my life so much richer. I'm grateful to finally have someone I can call 'big brother' - even if it took me 19 years to get him.


...............


Quote - "Men always believe they are in control of everything around them. When they find out there are not, they think they have failed, instead of learning a simple truth women already know," Aviendha (WoT)
Music - "Wonderful," Everclear
Mood - Playful

Freaked out. Insecure. Neurotic. Emotional.

Let's find out what's on my mind, na?

.....

I'm like Gollum. I both hate and love the ring, just as I hate and love myself. What is my ring? Men who dance. Not just dance. Men who dance divinely.
I love dancing with a man who can make me feel like I can waltz - even though I know I can't. I love men who not only spin their partners - but who know how to do it with so much flair and finesse that the entire song becomes a pattern of complex twists and dips. This is a great thing for me because I know how to spin - and as long as I keep spinning I don't have to worry about my lacking footwork and the basic steps I don't know. I just really love dancing with a man who's good enough at what he does to make me feel like I can dance too.
So why do I hate it? Because nothing makes you feel quite so clumsy and pathetic as being unable to even follow a basic step when you're paired with someone so much more skilled than yourself. After stepping on a few guys' toes and sitting out for a few minutes to watch the people who obviously know exactly what they're doing and look good doing it, it's so easy to become self-conscious. And once that one blow to the esteem lands on a weak spot, all the others just start pummeling you from all sorts of sides. Funny how something like dancing well (or poorly) can change your perception of yourself as attractive (or not) in a matter of minutes. Go figure.

.....

I got to see my second family today! I've liked to think of my friend Calli's family as my own surrogate haven through my growing years. They've provided a wonderful example in a lot of ways for the kind of family I hope to have someday.
With four children ranging from the mid-twenties to late teens in age (plus a father whose work periodically takes him overseas), it's been a few years since I've seen all of this family together at once. Today when I popped by Calli's place, I discovered that the parents and youngest daughter had come to visit with the other children (who all happen to be here at the Y - for the time being). It was such a strange, happy sight for me - seeing them all together under one roof again. It makes me hopeful for similar reunions that could be in my future - half a lifetime down the road from now.

.....

I need a babysitter. I swear I'm too scatterbrained to keep myself alive most days. What was my mother thinking letting me out of the house (let alone the state) without an escort?
I consider any day in which I remember that I need food before 2 or 3 in the afternoon a pretty dang excellent day. It's not like I'm worried about my weight and try to eat less or anything ridiculous like that. I love food way too much to ever even consider it. I just... forget that I don't really benefit from food until I take time to... yanno... eat it.
I spent 2 1/2 days combing my apartment for my wallet this week. As all the girls have been packing and scrubbing all week, I figured it would turn up eventually and didn't get too worried. After all, there were a lot of messes it could've been hiding in. But by Thursday night, I'd realized I was in trouble because everything had been packed and cleaned. My wallet was -still- missing. I started trying to retrace my steps of the past week - and it's dreadful scary how little of the week I've been living in I can actually remember. o.O Made some phone calls, did some stressing... No wallet. This morning I got a call from Calli, informing me that I'd left my wallet at her place Monday night. ...Oh, yeah. I'd kinda forgotten I'd even been there (for 6 hours) until she mentioned it. So around mid-day I took a break from the final cleaning that was going on and went to retrieve the wayward wallet. Mission accomplished. Yaaaaay!
So... a few short hours later, I'd managed to finally eviscerate the final dregs of evidence to suggest that any human being had ever lived in our apartment, gave myself a satisfied pat on the back, and closed the door... And then started wondering what I'd done with my keys. >.< In case you're wondering, the keys were also, eventually, found. (Hours and hours later, after a bit more stressing.)
I wonder if my constant state of oblivion is more stressful for me because of the trouble it gets me into or my mother because of the worrying she knows she has every right to do? Hmm...

.....

My mother did not raise me to be a mooch. Whilst the wallet was missing, I had offers from friends to help me pay for things I needed. My roommates took their kitchen supplies (including the microwave) and left me without the means to cook anything but cold cereal for myself, and I had friends offer me warm food as a result. They were so anxious to be helpful - and persistent. I'm glad they were because it enabled me to get my work done and gave me a warm meal when I needed it. But I still felt bad about it. Guilty for being needy, I guess. I feel like I have to return the favor, and I don't like being in debt. Heck - I won't even ask for rides to the grocery store from my friends or roommates. If I need something, I'll walk the half hour it takes to get there just so I can do it myself. I hate being a burden to other people.
This mooching also applies to simple things like company. I don't care how many times a friend says 'You're always welcome to visit/tag along/eat/whatever,' or 'Consider yourself invited to anything you'd like to go to.' I refuse to take up that open-ended offer. I used to have a very bad habit of forcing my company on people who didn't really want it, and I didn't realize it. I try so hard not to do that anymore, and I won't invite myself back into that situation. So thanks, but if you really want me to participate, I'm going to need a more specific invitation. Them's the brakes.


.....

I am so bleeding tired. That's all, folks.


....................


Quote - "Your mom." Thanks, Manly Man ^.~
Music - "The Rose," Bette Midler
Mood - F.I.N.E.

The Dress

So I have this dress...

It's a beautiful thing - my shade of green (emerald, that is), elegant, and perfectly wonderful. Very likely the best DI find I've ever made - and that's an impressive statement. I love the way I look in it, and I love the way I feel in it. How do I look and feel? Lovely.

So this morning as I was getting ready for church, I tried it on - just for the heckuvit. My roommate exclaimed "You look like an elven princess!" In response I laughed and made to go change into something else, but she talked me out of it.

So roughly an hour and a half later, I scampered my way up to church in this lovely little number. Once I was inside the building, I put my shoes on, then walked into the room where we hold sacrament meeting. And thus we have reached the point wherein I realized the magnitude of my error.

There were... EYES... on me. I saw girls gushing at me as I walked past them. I reached the row where my roommates sat, and Richard blurts out, "You look like an elvish princess!"
...My roommates swear they didn't tell him to. I'm not sure that I believe them. At any rate, it wasn't the last time today I got that comment. I can't tell you how many compliments I received today. Exquisite, beautiful, wow, gorgeous, I love it, wow, pretty, WOW... I heard them all repeatedly.

...
......
..........

I am -never- wearing that dress again.

It's the WEIRDEST feeling ever - walking into a room and having people stop and stare. I have no problem with having every eye in a room on me when I'm on stage, in a costume, pretending to be someone else. That's totally different. When it's just me, though, it's unnerving.

Besides, I know it shouldn't be so hard, but I always feel awkward accepting compliments from people. It makes me feel snobbish. Conceited. Pompous. All of the above. I'm in a synonym-ic mood tonight.

And perhaps worst of all, it would seem that that dress gave just enough incentive to Super-Awkward-Geek-Boy-Whom-I-Have-Been-Striving-For-Weeks-NOT-To-Encourage. Oh, yes. The one with B.O. that smells like onions. (I would know since he sat next to me during one of the meetings today. >.<)The one who thinks that just because I'm a gamer girl he can prattle on endlessly about the most inane aspects of games I've never heard of and couldn't care less about. (He tries to make it philosophical and applicable to actual laws of science. >.< Do you WANT to make me cry out of sheer boredom?!) He's one of those that's starting to feel the age gap between himself and the other singles in the ward and is getting desperate. The boy who will invite himself over 'to be social' and then just sits there and forces conversation out of us while my roommates and I TRY to suggest kindly and subtly that he should go because we have things to do. But does he go? No. He just sits there as we go about our business. So then I end up HIDING in the back rooms until he decides he's ready to go - which can be a -very- long time.

On a totally unrelated note, as I've been sitting here in front of my laptop, I have had the misfortune of sharing the room with a couple that will be married within two days' time. This is a most severe punishment that should be reserved for only the most despicable criminal offenders in this corner of the galaxy. As they've exchanged their... farewells for the night... I have attempted to drown them out by snatching at whatever song I could find in my head. This is usually reasonably effective since I'm pretty easily distracted by my own mind and tune out a lot of things anyway - whether I mean to or not. ...However, we just finished watching Enchanted. "I've been dreaming of a true love's kiss..." wasn't QUITE what I needed at the moment. Thanks, irony. Thank you so stinking much.

...And this is why today was a 'Why me?' kind of day. -____-() I suppose it really wasn't a terribly -bad- day. I just feel like whining. Oh, woe. Alas and alack.

I'll put up another post soon about something muchmuchMUCH happier. It's very happy stuff indeed. But it must wait because I have refrigerators to scrub for tomorrow's cleaning checks. Mm, scrumptious.


~~~~~~~~~~


Quote - Jess: "You're talking to a ~boy~?"
Me: "Yes, well... 48% of the world's population is male. Chances are fairly good that I'd have to communicate with one every now and then."
Jess: "Well, at least we're still winning."
Me: "Mmhmm. If we could only get their mothers to stop feeding them when they're young, they'd die out a lot faster."
Music - "How Does She Know," Enchanted
Mood - Unfortunate

Public Service Announcement

Boys are blockheads. That is all.


~~~~~~~~~~


Music - "Poison," Alice Cooper
Quote - "Reality continues to ruin my life." ~Calvin and Hobbes
Mood - Peeved

My Will Is As Strong As Yours (even if nothing else is)

Sooooo.... Before I get on with the rest of this post, I want to make sure it is understood that I do not believe that violence is ever the best way to solve a problem. (I do, however, acknowledge that sometimes it is the only way.) Also, the only place that it has amongst family and friends is in the form of play fighting. Never in real conflict or punishment.

That having been said now, I used to enjoy play fighting as a kid. I got into it just as much as my brothers and cousins did. It's been years now since I've done so. Even though I still like to talk tough, it's purely out of amusement because it's just that - talk. I know full well that I could never make good on the threats I spout off at my guy friends because it absolutely goes against my nature. I hate hurting people. I really am too afraid of hurting someone unintentionally to even try (beyond swatting half-heartedly at a boy when teased). I have fairly good reason for it - I'm a klutz. I have on occasion hurt people without meaning to.

Last night, Nam-Allirog and I started horsing around over a bracelet he stole from me. As ever, I was fairly cautious about my display of tankish force, since I had no real desire to hurt him and just wanted my bracelet back. Within a few minutes, he started turning it into a sparring match - the boy loves sparring and will take on any opportunity to do so. I decided it wouldn't hurt to play along for a bit.
After a few minutes I determined that he was enjoying himself way too much for my pride's sake, so I started trying a little harder to make contact when I swung. After about fifteen minutes of this, I realized that even when I did land a hit, he didn't even feel it. No matter how hard I connected, it didn't phase him at all. I -couldn't- hurt him. So I finally just let go of every reservation I had and really started trying to deck him. I punched and kicked and even tried biting once (I really do fight like I did as a kid.) I fought with everything I had, and it was annoyingly obvious that it didn't make one bit of difference. I could hardly hit him, and even when I did, I seemed to hurt my own hands more than I did him. To make it worse, he was going so stinking easy on me - stopping every time I tripped or he hit harder than he'd intended so I could recover, and he fought one-handed (with his non-dominant hand) the entire time to boot.
Within a half-hour, my hands and arms were really smarting and I was wearing myself out, so I stopped trying to hit so much and just played defense. He and I both knew I couldn't keep up much anymore, and he kept trying to convince me to try bargaining with him instead of bruising myself up further. I've got one heck of a stubborn streak, though, and it was in full force by then. More than an hour after the sparring began, I kept insisting that he was just trying to talk his way out because he was about to break, and it would be silly for me to surrender when I was obviously winning.

Our audience through it all had been Sir Tim. Roughly an hour and 20 minutes after it all started, he decided that it was time to break things up. Of course, the fact that my arms were too stiff and sore for me to do anything but try to block and dodge wasn't about to convince me to surrender, so the behemoth picked me up as easy as you please (never mind my flailing and fighting against him too), slung me over his shoulder, and toted me back home. >.<

It was all in good fun, and we all enjoyed it. It's not something I'd be anxious to do often, as I -am- a little bit bruised up now. Nevertheless it was fun to be a rough 'n rowdy tomboy again.

But the big deal about it is - it's made me very keenly aware of just how defenseless I am. If I'd ever find myself in a situation where I'd really have to fight to defend myself, I'd be so powerless it'd be laughable... in a very not-funny kind of way...

I go on a lot of late-night walks. It's a habit I've enjoyed for years - it allows my body to do something automatic so that I'm mentally relaxed. It gives me time away from other people to talk aloud and sort out the things in my head or vent. I never think twice about walking myself to a store or the library or a friend's house after dark, and have always shrugged off the idea of using the 'safe walk' system. I don't like bothering people unnecessarily.
No one's ever really bothered me. (The one recent time I can remember a couple of guys making me nervous, I was hiking with a nice big walking stick, so they kept their distance.) I've just always assumed that if the need ever arose, I'd be able to manage on my own.
I'm now realizing that that may be a very stupid assumption for me to make. Maybe I should start considering alternative meditation methods. Or else find my own Mr. Miyagi to teach me how to wax on and wax off...


~~~~~~~~~~


Quote - "There are only two forces in the world: the sword and the spirit. In the long run, the sword will always be conquered by the spirit." ~~ Napoleon Bonaparte
Music - "She Walked Away," Barlow Girl
Mood - Getting Things Done

Missionaries - Present and Future

I need to get to bed before it's too late, but I'm leaving my beloved computer for a few days and figured I should put up a post, lest I find rabid, spleen extricating, Cap'n-deprived followers awaiting my return on Sunday.
Where am I going, you might ask? To Arches National Park, would be my answer. What will I be doing there? Scraping my knees up on rocks, probably falling off quite a few of said rocks, hiking, eating tin foil dinners, freezing to death... Yanno. Experiencing the wonders of the great outdoors. ^______^ I really do enjoy it all - except the part where I freeze to death, of course.

I'm just going to jump around with the big things that I can remember from the past week.

Saturday, I got a call from my momma during DnD. She said that she and the youngsters were attending a session of The Best of EFY down at SVU. Aaah... EFY. It makes me squee on the inside and out. ^__________^ I'm thoroughly convinced that working for that program is the single best job on the face of this planet. Light, I hope I can do it again someday.
Of course Chynna was glad to be there because of the opportunity to socialize with her boyfriends (one on each arm and all that) - I hope she got a little more out of it than flirting.
And Casey - oh, that boy. He grumbled and complained and drug his feet the whole way, but once he got there, he had a wonderful time and told Mom he was glad he came. ^__________^ My hope lives on! Out of the 7 boys that our family has raised, Casey is the only one that I can honestly hope for where the prospect of a mission's concerned. The church has never been more than a chore to any of them. Something your parents make you do. Casey doesn't really have a solid testimony or anything at this point, but with the right prodding, he'd be so much more willing to make it a priority than any of the others, I think.
Casey's a lot like me. More than anyone else in the family. I've seen his notebooks filled with snippets of stories, sketches of characters with extraordinary powers, and song lyrics. I've watched him fight imaginary battles in the backyard with the cheap decorative swords he inherited when I left for school. I wonder if he knows just how similar we are.
I worry about him a lot. Even if he did excel at art, sports, hunting, music, acting, school, popularity, creative thinking, or whatever, so what? Like Ron Weasley, he's at the end of the line in a huge family, and there's no real motivation for him to do well at anything because it's all been done already by his older siblings and cousins. We've got so many different talents that there's really nothing left he's found that could be uniquely his.
Although there are many other great reasons I hope he'll serve a mission, one of the biggest to me is that this is something he can do that will really allow him to shine - something he can be proud of and feel real accomplishment for. He has the potential to do something that none of the older boys ever will and that they'll regret not doing years later. I'm just holding onto my hope that someday he'll be the example that they all should have been to him.

...And I really wandered off there. Back to Mom's phone call - she called to give me what could be the best news I've heard in... well... I'm not sure when I last heard news this good. Flashback!
At my first youth conference, I became friends with two awesome boys - Will and Sam. Will especially became a very close friend. I'll admit, I crushed on him for quite a while too. He had an amazing smile and cute curls and watched anime, okay? They graduated two years before I did, and seeing them go really upset me. We tried keeping in touch, but after about a year and a half, the calls stopped and they effectively fell off the face of the earth. Why were they still home so long after graduating, you may ask? At least in Will's case, he was the only real active member in his family and had to raise the money for a mission himself. Honestly, after about a year, I'd more or less given up hope that he'd ever go. I haven't heard from him or Sam in over three years and never expected I would again.
So this past Saturday at the EFY activity, my mom happened across a boy that looked an awful lot like Sam. Happened to be a younger brother. She asked a few questions and it turns out, Sam has 4 months left of his mission here in Utah while Will has 6 months left on his in Japan. I was so happy, I came dangerously close to crying right there in the middle of our DnD game - where I happened to be when Mom called to tell me this.
I ended up doodling a sketch of a missionary with a smile and a mop of curls in church the next day. One of the guys who saw it commented on the fact that he didn't have a proper missionary haircut. Yes, I know that Will's hair is probably a lot shorter now, but I can only picture him as I knew him. ^____^() Ah, well.

Concerning other friends from years long past (though she's still around), EJ and I FINALLY got Calli to read the Twilight series. Yaysquee! XD Not only is it good to have another fangirl follower converted, Calli and I also made a deal that's very good for me. I put in an equal amount of studytime to her time spent reading that series. So I now owe her twenty-two and a half hours worth of homework. Edward Cullen may be the best motivator I've ever had. Haha.
And while we're on the subject of motivation - I'm finding mine again. In the last two weeks, I've played soccer, ultimate frisbee (twice), hiked, gone swimming, and ran 6 miles (two nights, 3 miles each). It feels so great to be active again! Even though my muscles have made some protests and I spazz whenever a frisbee comes my way, I've loved every bit of it and don't want to stop for anything.

And now for the sad news - it looks like I may not go to Alaska this summer after all. It's not all sad, though. I've discovered that rather than trying to earn enough money to pay back my student loans in July, it would probably be better to enroll in a new school, resume my student status, and forgo the loans until we can really afford to pay them back. So I'm doing some research on UVSC and talking to counselors about how to transfer credit from there back here to BYU. I have a really good feeling about this route. It'll allow me to make some progress with my GE's a lot sooner, rather than just waiting for my suspension to end. Now that I have a real goal and I know what it is I want to do with myself education-wise, I'm anxious to get back into the game and make some good things happen.

And on a closing note: I come from an awesome family. How many people my age have grandparents that could flip a truck three times, total the vehicle, and take no more damage than a few broken ribs? My granddad did last week. That's right. We're built to last. ^____~


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


Quote - "The spaces between your fingers were made so someone else's could fill them."
Music - "Rebel, Rebel," David Bowie
Mood - Artistic

Got Milk?

Well, the tallies are in, and the votes stand as thus:

1 I don't think you're a dork. You're totally cool!
1 You attract dorks because that's what you subconsciously desire.
2 They're attracted to you because they see common interests. (With a hint of 'Other guys may be interested, but they're too afraid of damaging their reputations to give you a chance.')
1 If you want anything else, you're going to have to let your hair grow out and wear more makeup. (There would be two votes for this one if my mom read my blog.)
1 You're too soft. You may wish you were tough, but you know you're not and so do we, you pansie.
1 I'll tell you later - when it's safe.
And my sister didn't vote because she thinks I'm too dorky to bother reading my blog. ^.^()

That's about what I expected.

In other news:

Thrynn thinks I need to post entries more often. I think Thrynn faces a painful, stabbity demise in the relatively near future. Call it a hunch. ^__________________^

Saturday was a great day. It was several days ago, but it was still great. My character delivered the killing blow to a colossal sized dragon in DnD - with her bare hands. Muaha. I made cheese cake cupcakes, and they were most scrumptious.
I cleaned my room (though you can't really tell anymore) while Calli and I took a trip down nostalgia lane. My, we were silly kids. Why, yes, Digimon and Gundams and Dragonballs CAN exist on the same planet... Our kids will get tired of watching cartoons before we do. And once upon a time, 19 was sooooooo far away, and we would be married by then. HAAAAAH!
So then I drug the poor sickly creature that was Calli to a karaoke party in the realm of Man-205. Light, that was a blast. Mullet wigs, 80's rock, attempted cha-cha, and cheesecake from the Irish Pub. Yum. Calli and I agreed, though, that the night would have been perfect if they'd had Mika's song Grace Kelly among their karaoke tunes. Alas, it was not. Lord Tarzan and I would've brought down the house with that one.
There was also an Irish Pub party going on and Irish jigging did occur. And I wore a giant orange top hat that covered my whole head. I felt like Baby New Year from that clay-animation movie because the only way to keep the hat up was to fold my ears out and balance it on them. It made a lot of people laugh, which made me happy. ^__^

I learned some things about the human body and the digestive system this week. I learned that humans are the only mammals that don't become lactose intolerant very quickly after being weaned from their mothers' milk. There are varying degrees of lactose intolerance. For instance, one person could be totally incapable of consuming any dairy product without severe reactions while another person could perceive no signs at all of being sensitive to lactose with dairy products such as cheese, yogurt, butter, etc. But with milk, which contains a significantly greater amount of lactose, symptoms may suddenly appear. It's also a condition that increases in severity as you age.
I am also approximately 90% certain that I am developing what is, for now, a mild form of lactose intolerance. I've been doing some self-experimenting and have found in repeated cases that my body reacts badly when I drink milk. It's still mild enough that I don't really notice symptoms with less-lactose-concentrated dairy products, but a few glasses of milk is enough to make my stomach very unhappy with me. I don't mind giving up milk itself so much. Never have liked the stuff and hardly ever drink it anyway - unless it's chocolaty. But it will make my heart and soul inconsolably sad if this is something that progresses as I get older until I must also say goodbye to wonders like cheese and the most sacred of substances - ice cream. Maybe I should start binging on dairy while I still can...

Today was such a beautiful day! About 60 degrees and sunny with a little bit of wind. Just perfect. I decided it was prime Y-hiking weather. So I put on my boots and toted my trusty walking stick Miro up the hill to the mountain. (Not only is Miro good at helping my klutzy feet stay under the rest of me when I'm conquering mountains, he's also very good at telling creepy guys that stare at me as I'm walking alone to keep their distance. He's a good boy. ^___^) Miro and I had just reached the second switchback when I got a call from Korrie, who needed someone to drive her to class. So we turned around and trotted ourselves back down off the mountain so we could be useful. (It's kinda funny that Korrie and I hang out more, and I get to actually be helpful to her now that I'm no longer her visiting teacher. Heheh...) She seemed hesitant to interrupt my little adventure, but I assured her it would be fine as long as she promised to accompany me on a later excursion up to the Y. The funny thing is - I didn't realize at the time that that excursion would have to be MUCH later since Korrie's still hobbling around on crutches due to an unfortunate episode with gravity and the 'sport court.' Mrr.

Aaaaaaaaand.... I was born in the year of the dragon. RAWR.


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


Quote - "I could never be a vegetarian. I like broccoli too much." Annika
Music - "Hand-Me-Down," Matchbox 20
Mood - ~I'm a helper!~

Am I A Dork?

I want honest answers to that question. From all who read this. Really.

I ask because of a pattern I've noticed throughout my life. It seems like most girls fairly consistently attract a certain type of boy over and over again. Regardless of whether or not that's what they want, that's what they get noticed by. For some girls it's 'bad boys,' for others 'nice guys,' flirts, brainiacs, athletes, whatever. For me... It's dorks. Shy guys. Geeks. Nerds. Awkward boys - I really can't see them as men regardless of their age because they're just not.

This recurring theme in the guys I've noticed who give me unwanted attention really makes me wonder - WHY?!

Is it because they see me as a female version of themselves? Do they place me on a level that makes me seem more attainable to them while other girls are generally out of reach? I make no secret of the fact that I have some nerdy interests. Yes, I read fantasy and science fiction. Yes, I watch anime. Yes, I love superheroes and I play Duneons and Dragons and I love old music. Heck - I've even worn a sweater-vest or two (when the occasion was appropriate). But do I really typify the qualities that make up the generic geek?
I have a lot of other perfectly normal interests - like art, cooking, dancing, theatre, the great outdoors, sports, even a few boy bands from years not so long past. >.<()
Do guys outside the spheres of nerd-dom see me as a geek while the ones within it see me as their best chance?

Or could it perhaps be that they sense that I'm too soft (or cowardly) to openly reject them? I've put on the tough girl facade a time or two when dealing with guys, but in general, I just hate hurting those that I perceive as being weak. And these boys definitely fit that bill. I can empathize with people who are ostracized by their peers because I was one of them. (I was a very weird kid, though I do think I've outgrown it enough to do all right for myself socially. I'm comfortable with myself.) Do I set myself up as a magnet for these socially unfortunate souls by being too kind?
Would it be better for me to stop trying to gently dodge their advances and be a little more catty? >.< I hope not. I hate seeing girls treat people that way.

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

Quote - "Those who say something is impossible are generally interrupted by someone doing it." ~Unknown
Music - "Kyrie," Mr. Mister
Mood - Pensive

We'll Improvise This One

So... I don't know what I'm going to write about tonight. Let's just see what pops out, eh?

To start, Nam-Allirog has been forgiven because he has magical hands. ^____^ Macloude managed to hurt her neck playing courtly games and he was good enough to help work away a little of the pain with icy-hot magic potion. Macloude's neck will probably snap, crackle, and pop all day tomorrow, though.

It's kinda sad, actually - apparently my pain tolerance is such that I can't even really stand to have all the kinks massaged out of my neck. o_O Sad, indeed...

Weather! And sports! I've been planning an excursion for willing Campus Plaza residents to mosey over to the park for a good ol' bout of soccer for the last few days.
I was really worried that today's weather forecast would spell DOOM for the game, and the gray cover hanging in the sky this morning really didn't do much to allay those concerns.
However, just as I got off work and headed home, they skies suddenly cleared, the sun shone, and it became a kind of weather most excellent for parkly excursions. Somebody up there loves me! ^__________^
Unfortunately I could use love from a few more somebodies down here... I had so many people back out on me once it was actually time to go play. I really was giving up and going home when Keith and Manly Man made an appearance in their hot canary yellow sporting attire. Those guys are real studs. If I had a y chromosome, I would feel so manspired by them.
So in the end, we had about 9 people from the Plaza and three other random guys I didn't know come play. It turned out pretty well. I got my annual bout of exercise, made some new friends, and somehow gave myself whiplash - or something that feels very much like it. I love soccer. I miss playing so much. And I especially miss feeling like I've been working at it enough to feel competent as I play.

I don't often have nightmares. Aside from the recurring ones in which all my teeth fall out. But I do remember one from the other night. A really... bizarre one.
My dad, my grandma, and I were driving to dad's house - through the woods, of course. The house is in the boonies and all. And somehow my MawMaw fell out of the vehicle - without us noticing. So then we got home and discovered that she wasn't there, but we figured out what must've happened because it... made sense... ? O.o (It started kinda dream-funky weird, but gradually it just got creepier.)
Dad was, of course, upset that his mom was lost and we had no idea if she was okay. So we had to go back and look for her. So all of my family on mom's side (cousins and such)- who were at Dad's house for whatever reason - started looking for MawMaw in the woods around the house. Mom and I worked our way along the trees near the road very methodically. But at some point, it became apparent to us that she had died out there. So we weren't looking for my lost grandma anymore - we were looking for her corpse.
I could tell we were getting closer for some reason (dream logic, yanno), but then a really really big fox appeared. I think it spoke because it was standing nose to nose with me, but I don't remember what it would have said. But I do remember it attacking us. We fought it off, though. And that's about when we started hearing wolves howl. They were hunting us.
I don't remember exactly how it all happened, but Mom and I -did- find my MawMaw's corpse... Just as the wolves started closing in. And then it all gets fuzzy. I think I woke up.
Why did I write about that? I dunno. It's just odd for me to have nightmares, and even if I do, I very rarely remember them. This one really stuck out, though. Maybe it's just because it was incredibly vivid - and more than a bit macabre.

DI bins! I love DI bins so stinking much. I've found some incredibly cool jackets in them, a suitcase, not to mention other miscellaneous clothes. My favorite finds of the last few weeks have been the long maroon jacket I wore as part of my Corporate Style Barbie get-up on Sunday, a lava lamp (who has officially been named Xavier), the Tinkerbell t-shirt I found for one sister, and the Woodstock plushie (think Peanuts) I salvaged for the other. As long as I have DI bins, I never need to spend another dime on gifts again! It's a beautiful system.

In other news - I'm never going to be able to settle on a major. I made up my mind to apply for illustration a while back, but now I've started weighing other possibilities again. Really only one other for now.
I shudder to say it where people can actually hear - and I doubt most of you who read this will believe it anyway - but beneath the ice and the whithered, frost-bitten texture of my black heart, there are actually a few microscopic fragments of compassion that haven't yet been obliterated. And those little nuisances are nagging me to do something that will make a difference people who desperately need others who are willing to help them. Specifically, there's a part of me that wants to work to improve the lives of children who need decent families. Child protection services, if you will.
As much as I want to help improve these kids' lives, though, there's another side. Perhaps a bit more selfish. And it looks at the long hours and heavy caseloads that social workers are weighed down with. And it says that I already ruled out the performing arts as a major because I didn't want a job that would distract me from my role as a mother. And I guess I'm kind of afraid of neglecting my own family in my attempts to improve someone else's.
Work in things like illustration and writing appeal to me so much not only because they allow me to let out my own creative nature and use talents I've developed, but because they're primarily freelance work that I can do within my own home. I just don't know.

I picked Polaris out of the sky tonight. It's the first time I've really looked at the stars since summer. It's so sad that you have to sacrifice proximity to people and convenience to be able to really see the stars - like at home. I love picking out constellations, and I know so many (in the summer, anyway). It's a shame that that knowledge gets rusty whenever I come here with all these lights. That's why I only really know summer constellations. I can see the stars in the summer. But in the winter, while I'm here, they hide.

I miss a lot of things about summer. Late night walks without a jacket, fireflies, star gazing, hiking, camping, trips to the coast, swimming in the river, greenery everywhere, humidity, baby animals, downpours you can run around in drenched without freezing while lightning crashes right over your head, fireworks, collecting chicken eggs at Uncle Jesse's, sunburn, Casey's face getting more freckly by the day, our next door neighbor trimming his lawn with a razor and a fine-toothed comb... I love summer.

~~~~~~~~~

Quote- "We're men. We hunt, we watch sporting events, we apologize." ~Rogers (The Swan Princess II)
Music- "Dark Chest of Wonders," Nightwish
Mood- contemplating the various degrees of 'ICK'

Once Upon An Insult...

Story time!

~~~~~

Once upon a time there was a lovely young maiden. We'll call her Macloude (with an 'e'). Because none of us know anyone who was recently re-named that... At all... Macleoude was sometimes a reclusive creature. Dainty and sensitive to the stresses of the constant socialization of the court. She was prone to long evenings spent at home on her own with her computer or a good book for company.

However, the fine beauty did have a fair number of friends who were good and dear. One such friend was a hairy-armed lad whom we'll henceforth refer to as Nam-Allirog (read it backwards). Nam-Allirog was an out-going, well-wishing sort, always seeking to do some good for his fellow primates. And so, on this occasion he happened upon sweet Macloude alone at her place of residence - the Castle Sassy-203 in the realm of the Plaza of Campus. After a brief exchange of pleasantries, he most regretfully declared that he must depart. However, a nagging suspicion had been born within his mind, and so he proceeded to inquire that his suspicion might be laid to rest.

"Have you left this [castle] once since returning from work?" said he.

"Bugger off," she replied, confirming his suspicions.

At once he determined that it would be most callous of him to leave her in such a lonely state and insisted upon her immediate quitting of her sanctuary. He proceeded to drag her by her delicate metaphorical ear to the near-by manor of Man-206. Therewithin dwelt the honorable lord Tarzan and the Knight some call... Tim, most skilled paint ball wielder in all the land. Nam-Allirog announced his intent of leaving the fair maiden under the care of these noble men - cautioning them from allowing her to leave unaccompanied, lest she be preyed upon by roving bandits (or return to the solitude of her computer).

It was then that Lord Tarzan posed a question born of humble curiosity (for his was both mighty and mild): "But, sir, why dost thou leavest this comely, gentle flower in our charge?"

To which, Nam-Allirog so gracefully explained, "Well, it's kind of like when you're at a party and you're talking to someone. But you JUST CAN'T STAND THEM! It would be rude to just leave, so instead you find someone else to dump them on, get them talking, and THEN slip away..."

Macloude vowed from that moment forward to never allow her dearest of friends Nam-Allirog to forget a lesson he should have already known: Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

~~~~~

....And some people wonder why men get labeled as tactless idiots. I'd really hate to retract everything I had that was fair and good to say about men in my last post, and everything I would like to say in future posts. But right now.... Oh, how sorely I'm tempted. >.<

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Quote- "I need a guy opinionated enough to fight back, but considerate enough to let me win." ~Macloude (with an 'e')
Music- "My December," Josh Groban
Mood- hopeful about soccer

Girls Are From Narnia, Boys are from Middle Earth (or something along those lines... @_@)

I have a lot of time during work to just turn ideas over in my head and examine them from new angles. Tedious manual labor's good for that.

One of the many such subjects for my attention in the past days has been examining the changes that have occurred gradually in my own way of addressing the world. I'm finding that I've become a much more tame creature. Don't get me wrong - I don't think I'll ever find a word that better defines me than "spastic." Unless it's "spaz-tastic." But even so, I'm hardly the wild heathen-child that looks so much like a younger, blonder version of myself.

Where did that little tomboy who would deliberately play with spiders just to prove she wasn't afraid of them - while she was secretly terrified - go? She was afraid of a lot of things, like heights and bugs and pain, but she was good at muscling through that, so her friends thought she was braver. She hated the idea of anyone seeing her cry over anything. She was so stubborn and temperamental to a fault. And competitive - ho, boy was she competitive. She'd kick any boy who annoyed her in the shins and was so determined to prove that girls were better than boys in every way. It wouldn't be hard at all to imagine her growing up into one of those hardcore 'how-dare-you-open-that-door-for-me-you-chauvinistic-swine' type feminists. Heck, she even wanted to be the first female president (until she decided that too many people wanted to shoot presidents, that is).

In her place, I've found someone who skirts around the edges of gatherings in crowded rooms because she doesn't want to get in the way. Sometimes she'd prefer to participate more, but she got tired of making herself a spectacle a long time ago, so she lets the opportunity slide by.
She finally fessed up and gave into the urge to squeal and retreat from creepy things with too many legs. She's still interested in a lot of exciting things, but she's no longer bold enough to brush aside the nerves for the sake of the adventure. ...Maybe it wouldn't be a bad thing if she started toughening up again. I miss those adventures. ...I mean, she misses them.

They're not all bad changes, though. She's a lot easier to get along with now that she doesn't kick people in the shins. And she's learned that men and women aren't competing for superiority. That's a big one. She no longer wants to think of women as smarter, more competent, or any of that. She's learned to love men. Height, strength, hairy arms, crooked smiles, emotion tempered by logic. She loves it all. And appreciates the differences. She realizes that they compliment her own gender's traits quite nicely. And they make for a well-balanced team rather than opponents.
She also appreciates the ways that men acknowledge their differences. The door-opening. The compliments. Carrying heavy things, and all the rest. She shies away from them a little bit because they're just a little bit foreign to her. She doesn't expect them to come, but she's pleasantly surprised, and definitely appreciative when they do - whether she's good at expressing her gratitude or not. That's just because she's not quite used to it yet. Give her time. She's a work in progress.

---

Now veering off in another direction, thought not entirely irrelevant. There's one set of gender traits that I think deserve a little attention apart from the rest. Emotions.

I don't care if it sounds stereotypical or simplistic. And to those women out there who differ from this significantly or who take offense: I do acknowledge that this is a generalization. (Forgive me, Cathryn.) But it's my observation. My experience. And we are all limited by our own experiences and perceptions, I'm afraid. Having made my pseudo-disclaimer, then: Women. Are. Emotional. (That was profound, yes?) I'm one of them. I should know. I may have been a confused little tomboy for many a year, but boyish facades don't really change the software. And it's one heck of a roller coaster ride just trying to keep up with your own moods, let alone controlling the ride.

This is where the other half steps in. I used the phrase 'emotion tempered by logic' before to describe the male half's more appealing traits, and with good reason. Not all men -do- control their emotions well. A great many of them do not. The real shame is that so many women interpret fits of anger or possession as shows of power or strength. This is a disastrous move because such tantrums are anything but. It's probably the best sign you could get that this is a man lacking in self control - real strength. It's not that it's better for a man to be cold or insensitive, but a man's ability to win over feeling with thought is such a necessity for a healthy relationship.

NO RELATIONSHIP NEEDS TWO WOMEN. I can't say it any better than that.

I've dated emotional basket cases. Guys with temper flares and insecurity issues and depression. I've tried being the comforter and supporter. Overly emotional, needy guys drive women to depression. Trying to control someone else's roller coaster while your own is doing its best to buck you out of the car tends to end in bloody crashes. Then you die. And cry. Because, as we've already established, there's all this excess of emotion just waiting to flood over.

This sounds a little bit like a scapegoat for women to pass off their emotional hang-ups as a man's responsibility. But that's really not it at all. Women are just as accountable for their emotions and actions as men. Still, the sexes are meant to be different. When both sides of the equation are healthy on their own, and are comfortable with their own strengths and shortcomings, the marriage of reason and feeling do tend toward equilibrium.
May more men out there rise to the call to be the best, manliest men, so that women don't have to. We're all a lot better off when we're our best selves, rather than splitting our time between meeting our own needs and compensating for someone else's.

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

Quote- "When I die, I want to go peacefully, like my grandfather did, in his sleep. Not screaming like the passengers in his car."
Music- "Crash and Burn," Savage Garden
Mood- dead tired

Speak You The Portuguese?

...Kay, so I totally would've been in bed ages ago if the beautiful, awe-inspiring, LONG entry I'd just attempted to post hadn't VANISHED WITHOUT A BLOODY TRACE. ...Life sucks then you die. This is the attempted recreation (Bear in mind that just like in the movies and music, remakes are never quite on par with the original work. Unless Phil Collins is doing the remake. I am not Phil Collins.)

It's a wisely accepted fact of this world that you can hardly be prepared for all the challenges and surprises you face in life. The best you can do is be ready to accept and roll with that for which you are not prepared. And I do try to be adaptable. However, there ARE a few things that even the most stout of heart and cool of head cannot simply brush away because the possibility of it happening just... wasn't... existent... but then it did.
For instance, I never anticipated that the day would come when I could see Severus Snape dancing. It isn't that I didn't believe I could never come across the bat-like potions master in person, it's simply that I could never have envisioned him dancing. However, I must now tell you that that is EXACTLY what happened. Granted, he was a bit younger than his Hogwarty-yeared self. More like Severus the grad student than Snape the professor. But it was him! He had the long, jet black hair slicked back, and the nose, and a long dark coat, and... it was so... Snape, Snape, Severus Snape - DUMBLEDORE! He was wearing headphones attached to an ipod as he stalked the corridors - I mean campus - cloak billowing... Then all the sudden, he stopped, STRIKING A POSE. And then he DANCED as he continued stalking. Though I suppose it wasn't really stalking anymore... And even weirder yet - he had skillz. I will never imagine Hogwarts's Yule Ball quite the same way again. Or Snape's weekend trips to Hogsmead, for that matter...

In other news: I got to feel very domesticated today. ...Somehow that really doesn't sound like it's meant... Due to a gross disequilibrium in the distribution of Nice Notes of late, I offered to provide Manly Man with applesauce. I've come to really enjoy making applesauce since gaining access to a roommate's electric skillet. Mayhap I shall invest in one someday... When I'm rich. So anyway, I went about the making of the applesauce - even donning a cute lil apron. I received a great many comments from my roommates about my blossoming maternal assets. ...Again, that doesn't quite sound like it's intended. o.o()

So then Manly Man came over and kidnapped me for an hour of cultural awareness - which didn't really turn out to be all that culturally aware. It was a celebration of things Brazilian. Mostly it just seemed like a reunion for RMs with Brazilian flags in their apartments. There were sandwiches - not so Brazilian. But the soda was authentic. And it was good too. May have to ask Manly Man what it's called. And there was salsa dancing by the ballroom dance team.
And the best part of all: I randomly ran into VEEBA!!! (That's Eva Brady for those of you that haven't met her kids. Yes, she has kids...) She studies the Portuguese, which they speak in the Brazil. I speak the English. Which isn't spoken so well in the America. And even worse in the England. And then we happened across Mary Brooke from girls' camps long past.
What the foot's wrong with me, eh? I used to bemoan the fact that I had to drive for hours to see my friends and would hurl myself over any obstacle to make it happen. And now we live minutes away. We go to the SAME FRIKKIN' SCHOOL, and we never even talk anymore! Grar...

Moving on!

After being made more culturally aware, I skiddled over to the Marriott Center for my first and the last basketball game of the season.
Side note: whoever designed the crosswalk systems such that there is no convenient way to cross the street between the Hinckley Building and the Marriott Center deserves a good smart kick to the shins. Or better yet - a number of good smart kicks from an entire soccer team. Yeah. That sounds good.
So I'm glad I went to the game. It was a good one. However, I could feel the fact that I haven't had a decent night's sleep in two weeks. Jessica was very good about letting me use her boyfriend as pillow. I'm grateful. Boys really do make the best pillows.

And on the walk home, I got to clarify the misconception orbiting my love (or apparent lack thereof) for sports. I've always been a very sporty girl. I love sports. Especially playing. Don't like watching quite so much, but I love participating. Always have. It really makes me sad to realize that it's been two years since I've been involved with any kind of team. Granted, chronic illness did kind of get in the way during high school, but in the two years I've spent in Utah, I've hardly even had a case of the sniffles. Yet I've never really recovered my former energy and stamina that made me such a die-hard player. And I don't have an excuse anymore. I have a pair of new ruby-red soccer cleats that have never had a chance to be broken in, and I'm not really in good enough shape to consider playing real sports at all. Maybe I should look into joining ward intramurals anyway...

So now I'm going to wrap up this reattempted post with a couple of thoughts that deserve to be stated, but that didn't really have a place to fit into the rest of the post:
Hiccups make singing along with your headphones somewhat difficult - and significantly sillier.
I truly believe that no one should be allowed to call themselves an American if they were not involved with some kind of baseball league as a child.
You know Journey. Even if you don't know that you know Journey.
I prefer that my Meatloaf sing "Bat Outta Hell" and "Paradise By the Dashboard Lights" rather than sit on my dinner plate.

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Quote- "The best thing you can ever do is the right thing. The worst is nothing." -Roosevelt (don't remember which, though)
Music- "The Mysterious Ticking Noise," Potter Puppet Pals
Mood- sleepysleepysleepy

Quagmire

For the last 7 years or so, I have dutifully visited various blog sites, such as this one and livejournal on a near-daily basis so that I can check up on the lives (or lack thereof) of friends. I did attempt to keep up with my own livejournal throughout high school, but the updates were sporadic and tended to occur only seasonally at best.
However, the recent influences of a few friends have inspired me anew to try my hand at this blogging endeavor once again with a rejuvenated sense of optimism. ....We'll see how long this lasts, eh? ^.~

Maybe if I had a specific purpose in mind, it would prove conducive to regular updating. But what should that purpose be? I can't honestly believe that anyone wants to read about my 11-3 custodial shift every day. As invigorating as it may (not) be... So mayhap it should be reserved for more exciting whenever-something-awesome-happens-I-feel-like-reporting type adventures. But that will undoubtedly lead this poor, naive little blog into an obscure abyss from which it may never emerge.
So what then? An archive for the deep, profound insights birthed from the quagmire of my often misunderstood and under appreciated genius, shedding a previously inconceivable source of light and inspiration upon the less-complex and pitifully inferior minds of the mere mortals who stumble - whether by happenstance or fate - upon it?
Yeah... That sounds about right.

I guess we'll just play it by ear. Which should be interesting since it's a well-known fact to my more musically-educated acquaintances that I can't stay in just one key for more than about 20 seconds.

Anyway - this insomniac hasn't been to bed before 3 am in over a week now. Let's break that pattern starting riiiiiiiiiight...........

NOW!

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Quote- "Why waste time learning when ignorance is instantaneous?" -Calvin and Hobbes
Music- "Grace Kelly," Mika
Mood- cynic, posing as a realist, who is secretly an optimist