The Cosmos Hates Me

It is only 12:30 in the afternoon and already the cosmos has taken ample opportunity to tell me what a big, fat failure it thinks I am. First, there is the matter of having absolutely no response to the fifteen or so resumes/cover letters/applications I have sent out in the last 3 weeks. No calls for interviews, no emails telling me they are looking through all the submitted resumes and will let me know, not even a letter saying I didn't fit their paradigm but they will keep my resume on file. Nothing. Which is utterly and completely deflating. Especially when it is a part-time data entry job, which I could do in my sleep.

Also, despite being more dedicated to the work out plan than I have been in ages, the scale had decided to mock me by showing a weight gain rather than a loss. The dial refuses to turn in the right direction! I have decided to blame the whole thing on moving closer to sea level. I'm sure being high in the Salt Lake Valley makes one's scale read lower. It couldn't be the fact that I now live in a place where someone routinely offers to make me food, where everyone enjoys three square meals, and where the pantry is always stocked with delectable things like chocolate chips and gourmet breads.

Then there was the Deseret Book catalog that arrived in the mail today. It is the Mother's Day edition and was full of things that made me throw up in my mouth a little like this:

or this:

Aside from the nauseating, they were spotlighting a book called I Am a Mother by someone named Jane Clayson Johnson who was apparently a correspondent for ABC's Good Morning America and The CBS Evening News, as well as being a co-anchor for CBS's The Early Show. The book is about giving it all up to be a mother and the foreward is written by Sheri Dew, another powerhouse woman. This book, along with many, many others in the catalog, only highlight the fact that not only can I not manage to get a date, let alone get married and procreate, I can't even hold down a job, forget about building a career.

All of which is tempting me to send a No, thank you RSVP to the organizers of my high school reunion. How can I convince everyone of my own inner fabulousness if I can't convince myself of its existence? Or maybe I'll just go listen to the Bridget Jones's Diary soundtrack Esperanza had the prophetic brilliance to send me last week. If It's Raining Men can't get me out of this funk, I don't know what can!

Should We Really Honor This Man?

I have been sitting on this story for a couple of days, considering if my enraged response was just my left-leaning political bias, but I have decided there is more to it than that and thus, this entry. Vice-President Cheney is to be the keynote speaker at the upcoming Brigham Young University commencement. It is no secret to those who know me that I have no patience for this administration and that I think they have done more to jeopardize the stability and liberty of this country than any administration has done in a very long time. However, this is not my main concern with who my alma mater has chosen. My main concern is that this administration, of which Mr. Cheney is a powerful and active part, has proven through one scandal after another that they operate without regard to the values of honesty, integrity, or even courtesy which BYU endorses. Mr. Cheney's former Chief-of-Staff was just indicted in relation to a scandal in which the identity of a CIA operative was leaked to the press. It is only the very naive or very apolitical who believe that Mr. Cheney had no knowledge of the actions of his Chief-of-Staff. Additionally, Mr. Cheney has, at various times, been on record being rude, using profanity, and generally demeaning people with whom he disagrees. Is this behavior with which Brigham Young University, its representatives, and its students wish to be associated? Even if I agreed with his politics, I would not approve of Mr. Cheney's behavior. One can disagree without being disagreeable. And so I must protest, even if it is in an obscure blog entry, BYU's decision to invite Mr. Cheney to speak at the upcoming commencement.

Absolutely Breathtaking

I have to recommend that you all tune in to the Discovery Channel's planet earth series on Sunday nights. I think they are re-airing last night's three episodes tonight at some point, so check the listings. But the images that they were able to capture and the moments they were able to observe were amazing! It is an eleven-week special and each Sunday they are airing two hour-long episodes. It is fun and educational and just plain incredible. It really makes you appreciate the beauties of this world and how precious life is. This DVD is going on my wish list immediately.

At Least It Is Clean

I am not yet thirty, but I have begun to question my mental acquity. Up until today it was little things, like having to write down anything I want to remember. I used to be able to just make a mental note and that was that. Now I'm lucky if I can remember what day of the week it is. I hit an all time low today. I left my cell phone in a pocket and sent it through the washing machine this morning. I didn't realize what I had done until I went looking for my phone before leaving to run errands. When I pulled it out from amongst the tangle of towels, the LCD displays were shot and it wouldn't stop vibrating. The nice lady at the Cingular store took it apart for me and said I should let it dry out for a month or two, just to see if it could be salvaged. I kind of think the spin cycle would have destroyed any prospect of reclamation, but we'll see. Thankfully the SIM card was still intact, so I switched it out with my mother's and put hers in her old phone that she likes better. So I still have a phone that works, but I lost my entire phone book and all the pictures and ringtones I had assigned to everyone. It could have been worse, but I still think I might need to look into a nursing home or something.

Introducing . . .

. . . Mr. Rochester, my new betta fish. My mother and I have been unsuccessful in our attempts to talk my father into a puppy, so we settled for a betta fish. We went to the pet store last week, but they didn't have any, but today we were triumphant! Our new housemate has a dusky charcoal body and his tail is a red-orange. He was kind of fiesty in the store and on the way home, so I figured Mr. Rochester would be an excellent name for him. He isn't into photo shoots, but I think this picture captures him nicely.

I Feel Vindicated!

So, I have long had the nickname Scully and have personally felt I actually did resemble Gillian Anderson in a small way. And it is now a proven fact, never to be revoked!



I also find it interesting that I'm a 72% match with Tea Leoni. Now where is MY David Duchovny look-alike?

What Can I Accomplish In 15 Weeks?

Because that is how long I have before my ten-year high school reunion. So June 30th is now the D-Day by which I have to accomplish the following:

-- Lose the stubborn, remaining 25lbs needed to reach my goal weight.

-- Find a job, so that I can at least say I'm saving money by living with my parents.

-- Locate my inner fabulousness, so that if the previous job-acquiring doesn't happen, I can believably suggest I'm taking a sabbatical to write the Great American Novel.

-- Go through my closet and find an outfit that telegraphs my inner fabulousness and shows off the new figure I will have acquired by then.

-- Practice my poker face, so that I don't squeal with glee if I see horrid QueenBees who have put on some weight or sigh in resentment if the horrid QueenBees are still living charmed lives.

-- Somehow convince one of my single fantasy boyfriends (Ex: John Krasinski or John Stamos) to go with me.

Any wisdom to impart or advice to give to help me stay focused?

Sunday School Is NOT A Confessional

Seriously. There is a young woman at church who shares a large part of her life story every time she raises her hand to comment, which she does quite often. Today she volunteered that despite being an outwardly 'bubbly' person, she is tormented by depression and suicidal thoughts. She took two or three minutes to thoroughly describe the extent of her situation. It made everyone extraordinarily uncomfortable. And kind of ruined the lesson, which was about emotional self-sufficiency.

I Knew IT!

I have long suspected, possibly since the pivotal moment when he urinated in my face two days after coming home from the hospital, that my younger brother would sell me down the river. And my life-long suspiscion was validated this weekend. My parents and I went to the tundra town of Rexburg, Idaho to visit Mime and Mrs. Mime for a long weekend. During one of the many hours we were huddled in their living room trying to survive the sub-zero weather, talk turned to memories of high school and people we knew. Mime had the (mis)fortune of trailing me in high school, being a freshman when I was a senior. He started talking about what it was like to be known as Scully's Little Brother. Most of the teachers expected my geeky scholastic aptitude and were slightly disappointed by Mime's scholastic apathy -- he could do it, he just chose not to -- and comparisons were made (conversely, the gym teachers expected nothing and were pleasantly surprised by his natural athleticism). As he was complaining, he mentioned a nerve-racking moment when he was on the freshman soccer team. A senior -- let's call him Adonis, for he was gorgeous -- saw our last name on Mime's jersey and called him over. Thinking he was in for some sort of hazing, Mime reluctantly complied. Adonis asked him if he was related to me, and then said "Oh, she's cool." and subsequently became Mime's benefactor and protector.

Just a little backstory on Adonis. We had known each other since sixth grade, having survived one of our elementary school's less stellar experiments. They made a combination fifth-sixth class and gave it to the kookiest teacher in the school (for Halloween she dressed as a social studies book, got stuck in the passage that connected our classroom with the next, and had to be removed by the janitor). We bonded over being forced to read a book about Mao Zedong's march through China by Mrs. Kookypants and were the Tin Man and the Scarecrow in her overly-optimistic class production of The Wizard of Oz. We both ended up in the same Honors classes in junior high and high school. He was a class clown and I always enjoyed a good joke, so we were sympathetic classmates. However, he was several social rungs above me, based on looks, having a doctor for a father, and having spent some years in Japan while his dad was a military doctor. It would have been taboo for me to even admit to having a crush on him, let alone acting on it. Plus, he was Catholic, so doubly taboo for this LDS girl. We always got on well, and could enjoy a witty repartee, but that was that. I haven't seen him since graduation and haven't a clue where he is or what he is up to. But back to the story at hand.

It seems Adonis' protection came at a price. Mime was invited to sit in the relative comfort of the back of the bus with the senior players, so Adonis could pump Mime for information about me. Information Adonis admitted he would use to tease me. Mime shared with him the story of my falling in a manhole walking to the seminary building, which Adonis had heard something about, but Mime of course filled him in with a first-hand account. Needless to say, I was not pleased when I heard this. When Mime teasingly informed me that he had filled Adonis in on my admitted crush on Mr.Perfect (the LDS boy who pretty much excelled at everything) the room kind of went dark and I felt a panic attack coming until Mime said, "Just kidding." Luckily he hadn't shared such personal information. But even ten years later, I can't believe my younger brother would betray me like that. I can't imagine the panic attack that would have ensued if I had found out about this when it was actually going on. I don't know how I can possibly face the reunion this summer knowing I was the subject of multiple conversations amongst the senior soccer team.