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.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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