the basement office

Torn Between Two Archetypes

2011-12-24T16:15:00.000-08:00

On the one hand there is the man who has a specific skill set at which he is brilliant but causes him to be rather megalomaniacal. He has tunnel vision, ignoring the things, the people, the situations that don't fit into his small view. But within that small, specific world he inhabits he is master. No one can compete and that makes him dangerous to others and, more especially, to himself.

On the other hand is his friend or accomplice or partner or companion, a man who is equally or nearly as equally brilliant as the other, but with a wider world view that means his brilliance is more diffuse, used in more areas and therefore seen, especially by the first man, as less-than. This second man sees value in humanity and society, respects the conventions of society and social morality more, and lives accordingly. He is, however, drawn to the experiences and adventures inherent in the life of the first man and his dismissal of these same conventions and morality. He also acts as the voice of reason and morality in the actions of the first man, a check to his impulsive myopia.

Half the shows and movies I watch play with these archetypes. Psych, Sherlock (the BBC series), House, Sherlock Holmes (the movies), White Collar, Burn Notice, and even Doctor Who. I think the reason I like the shows so much is that I'm torn between the archetypes. I can't decide who I like better, who I would ultimately choose. Shawn or Gus, Neal or Peter, Sherlock or Watson, the Doctor or Rory. On the one hand, the brilliant, myopic man lives an adventurous life, an extraordinary life away from the mundane. However, there is no room for the ordinary, for the relationships or the day-to-day that must be lived and can be extraordinary. There would be no possibility of a relationship with him, as that is exactly the sort of mundanity he dismisses because it doesn't fit into his world view.

On the other, the reasonable, more conventional man appreciates the ordinary in life and understands how the small and the mundane can be beautiful and extraordinary in its own way. He would actually see the value in a relationship. Although we might both be more drawn to the extraordinary and adventuresome ways of the first man than either of us would care to admit.

Perhaps I just want to BE the friend or accomplice or partner or companion. A female Watson. That would be the best of both worlds; I wouldn't have to choose. Which is why, I suppose, I love Doctor Who so very much. There is a constantly rotating cast of Watsons, mostly female, who get the opportunity to enjoy their time with a brilliant, myopic, extraordinary individual and have amazing adventures. If only a madman in blue box would arrive on my doorstep. I can worry about adjusting to life post-adventures later.

Thanksgiving Family Fun

2011-11-27T20:48:00.000-08:00

I got to spend Thanksgiving with my brother and his family. It was a lot of fun and nice to have some down time where I didn't have to do anything. I spent most of the time playing with/spoiling (depending on who you are asking) my nieces. They are so big now! Bug likes to ask questions and discuss all the important things that adults never think about but are of utmost importance to three year-olds. Baby Bee doesn't talk yet, but that is because she has Bug and everyone else to talk for her. But she always knows exactly what is going on and is very good at expressing her displeasure should it not be what she wants going on. We had an adventure on Friday getting a gargantuan Christmas tree for their house. They also found a fun train to go under the Christmas tree that delighted the girls. Here are some pictures of the girls being themselves. In between the games of Can't Catch Me and You Stole My Chair which consisted of me chasing them and throwing them in the air, which wore me out, but didn't seem to phase them.

Bug giving me her best 'cheese' face.

Funny faces for the camera.

A more contemplative moment between funny faces.

Baby Bee gave this coy face every time I took the camera out. She definitely knows a secret she isn't telling.

The coy look through safety glasses.

Someone wants a turn behind the camera.

Their hugs always look like someone is getting strangled.

Showing their excitement over the Christmas tree and train.

More celebrating about the tree and train.

See what I mean about the strangle hugs?

Responsible Is Sometimes A Four-Letter Word

2011-09-21T19:39:00.000-07:00

Many years ago, during my sophomore year in college, I was horribly offended by a roommate's boyfriend. Unbeknownst to him, of course. My roommate said they were discussing our apartment and somehow started assigning them familial roles. Her boyfriend said I was like the mother of the apartment. I was not pleased. To my 20 year-old self this was most unfortunate. No one wants to be known as 'motherly' at the age of 20. I assumed it meant I was frumpy, overly responsible, and bossy. None of these are known to attract members of the opposite sex.

Flash forward to today. After a full day of subbing, I came home to find we only had one roll of toilet paper. After eating and taking a moment (or a couple hours) to relax, I cleaned up the kitchen, took out the garbage and recycling, and ran to the store for the aforementioned toilet paper, paper towels, and milk. As I was pulling into my complex's apartment, I noticed that my roommate who had come in as I was leaving had not bothered to close the front door. I was in the middle of grabbing my bags and grumbling about the open door when I realized I had again become the mother of my apartment. Maybe I never stopped.

The Advantage of Gaining Perspective and Having the Spirit

2011-09-05T13:04:00.000-07:00

Re-reading my last post, I realize it is bleaker than I intended. I was in a fairly self-pitying, Eyeore-ish state of mind that is now captured forever in Friday's post. The thing is, I'm not generally like that. I'm generally a happy person, even with as frustrating as my life is at the moment. This is a prime example of how one tiny little straw can break the camel's back and then the camel focuses on all the other straw that came before it and suddenly all the camel can see is a pile of horrible things that have accumulated. With that kind of obsessive focus, it all looks wrong and sad.

Yes, there are quite a few things that I want, that I feel are good things to want, that I do not have. Yes, I have wanted most of them for a while now and it is getting exhausting to keep looking forward and moving forward without seeing them on the horizon. And yes, when I think about it, I feel like a huge loser for being almost 33, underemployed, and unable to support myself. It is easy to compare myself to friends who are building careers, families, houses, futures really, that I am not able to build right now. That comparative mindset is easy to get into and hard to get out of without help.

Thankfully, I have wonderful friends and family who both sympathize and kindly suggest I get outside of my own head. Additionally, I have my faith, my covenants, the scriptures, and the gift of the Holy Ghost to also kindly, but firmly, suggest I stop feeling sorry for myself and get to work. Yesterday morning, as I was preparing for my Primary lesson, I was reading in 3 Nephi 18 and was struck by a scripture that I had never really paid attention to before. Christ is visiting the Nephites and is praying for them. The first prayer He gives, which I do remember, asks that the Holy Ghost be given to His disciples and those who believe on their words. The second prayer He gives asks that His disciples be purified and that those who believe on their words also be purified. That passage made me think about what it means to be purified. It is not an easy process. Purifying water takes intense heat and/or very strong chemicals. Purifying metals takes even more intense heat and requires the melting of the metal. These are not pleasant processes for the water or the metal. Neither is the purification of the soul.

These trials and tribulations I'm being asked to go through are not punishments nor are they meant to make me feel lost or alone. They are meant to purify me. The only reason I feel punished, lost, or alone, is because I lose perspective and forget to ask for help in keeping that perspective. Having perspective does not make the trials disappear, nor does it make them suddenly lighter or easier; it does, however, make the burden bearable. It makes it possible for me to stand up, brush myself off, and move forward knowing that at some point I will a) see the reason behind them and b) see the fruits of my moving forward in faith. It may take decades or it may be next month, but at some point I will know it has all been worth it, rather than just believing it now.

So yes, I will probably still feel like the last person invited to join the members-only country club that is adulthood and I will probably still whine about it at times. But I'll also be moving forward, focused on my faith and (hopefully) less obsessed with the pile of trials I'm sifting through.

Accumulated Realizations

2011-09-02T22:39:00.000-07:00

I will be the first to point out that I am not happy tonight. In fact, I am grumpy and sad and angry about things over which I have no control. I am also being extremely ungrateful by being so after having so many prayers answered with my niece's safe surgery and fast recovery. However, the following are things I have realized or learned that I'm not exactly thrilled about.

Months of work in property management have illustrated that there are loads of obnoxious, loud, insufferable, entitled people who can't be bothered to live by the simplest of social norms or act like adults, but seem to have no consequences or repercussions because they are loud and insufferable enough to get their way a majority of the time.
At the age of 32, I do not want to be living with three roommates. One roommate, tops. I like my space.
It isn't the active rejection that makes these single years so difficult. In those cases it is easy to get angry, indulge in ice cream, angry girl music, and rants to long-suffering friends and then get over it. It is the years of passive rejection in which no one shows a bit of interest that wear me down. It eats at my confidence and my hope like no other.
I am apparently not destined to work at a job I enjoy or that pays a living wage.
Arthur Conan Doyle's A Study in Scarlet was once removed from a school reading list in Virginia because of its depiction of Mormons as kidnappers and women-enslavers.
"No mater what" and "Thy will be done" are some of the hardest phrases in the English language. Especially when those phrases encompass the realization that there is only the steep and difficult path in front of one and that there is no way of knowing if it just stays that way until the end or if there might be some happy days ahead.

Lather. Rinse. Repeat

2011-07-28T18:27:00.000-07:00

It's like having deja vu all over again. An unused degree that took longer than most to get, check. Underemployed at an office job that is irrelevant to my chosen field, check. Feeling destined to a disappointing and unfulfilled life, check. Honestly, this is precisely how I felt nine years ago when I graduated with my bachelor's degree. I had hoped that this time around things would be different. I had hoped to find a job as a middle school teacher. Obviously that can still happen, but I have a deeply-rooted paranoia that I will be stuck going from office job to office job, unable to get teaching experience because I need a steady income, and constantly rejected for that lack of teaching experience. I spent most of the six years between my bachelor's degree and graduate school miserable and working at dead-end jobs I didn't care about. I don't want that again. At all. The office is not for me. I love the feeling of being in a classroom, of working with students, of collaborating with other teachers, of channeling the excitement of learning and the power of knowing. That is what I want and I am extremely frustrated that I can't find it. Now I feel like a hamster on a wheel, having expended a lot of resources thinking I was getting somewhere and then realizing I'm in the same exact place I started. It is not a happy feeling.

The life-on-repeat feeling isn't only applicable in my working life. I'm tired of watching successive generations of friends build careers and families and leave me behind, either physically or metaphorically. I'm tired of being the dependable friend who is there when people need me, but rarely included in the fun stuff. I'm tired of friends who disappear when dating someone and then reappear seeking consolation when it doesn't work out. I would really like not to feel stuck on the side of the road while everyone flies by, headed for the future at 60 mph.

I don't want to sound ungrateful, as there are a lot of good things in my life and I am a happy person. I haven't always been this happy; it has been a battle to get happy and I don't want that fight to be in vain. It is just hard for a worry-wart overachiever like me to wait, to stop, to be patient.

Stuff Happened

2011-07-11T20:55:00.000-07:00

'Tis a while since I posted anything to my blog, which means this will probably be a quick run down of stuff until I disappear again into my random busyness. Quite a bit has been going on, I just haven't felt much like talking about it until tonight, mostly through laziness, if truth be told. Also, there isn't a unifying thread or connection between anything other that it is my life, so welcome to my disjointed life.

In March I was sick of the dwindling amount of clothing in my closet that I could actually fit into, so I joined Weight Watchers. It is a surprisingly easy and flexible system and since a) I am paying for it and b) the computer does all my thinking, I follow it. In the last seventeen weeks I've managed to lose 25lbs. Which is on the awesome side, as I can wear much more of my wardrobe now and have even had to buy new jeans. Which is actually a huge chore I do not feel like repeating anytime soon, but is better than accidentally pantsing oneself in public.

This spring I learned that I did not grow out of my childhood response to hospitals of faintness and nausea when I nearly passed out in my niece's hospital room after she had surgery. For future reference, I do not do well in hospitals and will be happy to help out in any other way and at any other location. Which means I will be serving some other function when my niece has another surgery in August.

In June I managed to get my Master's paper finished and turned in and I officially graduated. Although it is again with a degree in a field that is shrinking job-wise. So, good times. I did have an interview with the school I student taught at, but they went with someone with several years of experience. It was pretty disheartening and sent me into a spiral of thinking I will be relegated (again) to hated office jobs. Also, I now have no idea where I will be in August. I might just end up an old spinster living in my brother's basement because I am working minimum wage jobs and trying to pay off student loans I racked up for a degree I am (again) not able to use. This is not a happy place to be, mentally, but it is where I am. Also, writing cover letters is of the devil. This requirement for a job fills me with angst and loathing directly proportional to how much I actually want the job. Pressure equals writing block and I end up stymied and racing down a depressing spiral of psychological torment imagining all the ways I am not qualified for the position and how hysterical the HR people will find my cover letter and resume. I realize this is toxic headspace, but I'm not sure how to get out of it.

This headspace is not helped by the fact I found a summer job at a property management company. While the people who work in the office are lovely and nice, there is at least one person each day who feels it necessary to be horrid. Which is ridiculous, because being horrid removes any incentive on my part to help them. Sadly, these people have learned that if one is awful enough, people will give in just to stop having to deal with one. Blech. But hey, I have a pay check for the first time in three years and an opportunity to save some money for the impending payment of student loans.

Finally, the loss of weight mentioned above has highlighted another piece of my life with which I am not entirely happy. While lots of women have commented on my appearance and been complimentary, it has done nothing with regard to male interest in me. Ever since I hit puberty and started realizing I looked nothing like what everyone said was beautiful, I thought if I would only lose weight, I would get dates. I thought that what was holding me back was being fat. Apparently it isn't the only thing. I'm not finished losing weight, but the magnitude of the physical changes only underscore the lack of change in my social life. Sometimes I wish I had a male friend close enough to just sit down and ask what is so off-putting or repellant about me and then take that information and decide what was worth working on and what wasn't. There are things I'm not going to change. I'm not going to be less opinionated, I'm not going to act less intelligent, or in any way pretend to be less than. But there are some things I could work on. I think. I hope.

Obsessions and Overthinking

2011-04-19T21:05:00.000-07:00

As you may have noticed from the massive quote on my sidebar, I have been reading Alexander McCall Smith. I started reading The No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency in February as a way to pass the time. I loved the unfamiliar setting (Botswana) and the wonderfully drawn Precious Ramotswe, the first lady detective in Botswana's capital city. I plowed through the first three books in the series in a matter of weeks (the fourth is on my floor waiting to be started), finding them at a fantastic local used bookshop. In addition to the endearing characters and fascinating setting, I was drawn to McCall Smith's writing. Despite being a detective and dealing with some of the ugly sides of the human experience, there is something so joyful and enjoyable about Mma Ramotswe and her life. I wanted to read more of McCall's writing, so I picked up The Sunday Philosophy Club at my public library. While this series is set a continent away in Edinburgh, Scotland and focuses on a privileged philosopher and editor of the Review of Applied Ethics who gets involved in solving others' problems and mysteries out of a sense of what she calls 'moral obligation, the same spirit inhabited the books. As I was reading, I finally found the adjective to describe McCall Smith's writing: gentle.

What I love about these books is the consideration and gentleness with which McCall Smith treats his characters and their lives. Even though the two women that lead the two series are often dealing with humanity's individual and collective faults, frailties, and foibles, the ugliness is not passed onto the reader. In most of the cases, the characters involved are treated with respect, compassion, and the recognition that no one is perfect and everyone messes up. To give forgiveness to others is a duty because the main characters (and we the readers) need it too. I feel this is missing from the majority of modern fiction and life in general. Like the quote on the sidebar states, we have lost something as a society. We are assertive, aggressive, and constantly in one another's face. That takes its toll. If we could remember kindness, compassion, understanding, and forgiveness we could all benefit. I love that his writing reflects that in such a subtle and un-didactic way.

While I relish The No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency series for transporting me to a far-off land and a life completely different from my own, I derive a much deeper pleasure from The Sunday Philosophy Club series and its heroine, Isabel Dalhousie. In Isabel I feel I have found a kindred spirit. A reserved woman who overthinks everything and, under the weight of her sense of moral obligation, feels an enormous amount of self-doubt and guilt. She is imperfect, self-sacrificing to a fault, prone to long inner monologues about what is the right way to act, and long inner debates over the discrepancy between what she wants to do and what she should do. Because of this she tends to not say what she feels and do what is best for others. This is how she ends up shouldering the burden of others' problems. Additionally, she has the endearing habit of exploring topics thoroughly, long after her conversational partners have tired of the subject. And she has a flair for making random and difficult-to-follow connections that lead to charming, if confusing, non sequiturs. While I'm not in my early forties nor in love with a man a decade younger than myself who is also my niece's ex-boyfriend (my niece is not nearly old enough for such things, nor will she be when I am 42. Thankfully), I do recognize the overthinking, the self-doubt, the guilt, the inner monologues and dialogues, the cluttered conversing, and the unspoken want for the wrong person (even if he is quite fantastic in his own way). It is rare for me to find such a kindred spirit in books. There are always things I can relate to in my favorite books, but I don't usually find such integral things that we have in common. The only other two I can think of right now are Elinor Dashwood and Anne Elliot who, while wonderful, are over two centuries old. I could use a modern compatriot.

Sometimes Good Things Can Happen

2011-02-26T23:03:00.000-08:00

I spent a fair bit of time bemoaning the fact I couldn't see The King's Speech because of an R-rating due to a scene of repeated profanity ostensibly used to loosen the King up during therapy. Well, it turns out the powers that be re-edited it, muted the profanity, and resubmitted it for a new rating. Ta-da - The LA Times is saying the re-edit got a PG-13 rating and will be re-released soon. Good times. See you Colin Firth fans at the theater!

A Random Collection Of Thoughts On This Notorious 'Holiday'

2011-02-14T17:42:00.000-08:00

My distaste for Valentine's Day started long ago when I was forced to endure decorations that assumed that pink and red matched, when in reality they clash rather horribly. Especially the bubble gum pink that was all the rage in my childhood known as 'the 80s.' Also, I hated being forced to give Valentine's to everyone and rather wished we didn't have to give them at all. If they are forced they mean less than nothing and are, therefore, worth nothing. Which is a long way of saying Valentine's Day and I parted ways in elementary school. There are a few good things about it, like all the 50%-off chocolate in grocery stores on the 15th and those candy hearts that taste like sweetened Pepto Bismol. I also thoroughly enjoyed the tradition my roommates and I started in which we dressed in black, wore black nail polish and loads of eyeliner and then went to class at BYU. Watching everyone silently freak out and put on their I'm-totally-not-judging-you-but-you-are-a-total-freak face was fantastic. Good times.

Not good times: the combination of middle schoolers, cheap candy, and a day devoted to hormones. Seriously a crazy day. It was much harder to refrain from flicking them in the nose like disobedient puppies than it usually is. I feel that we should just observe President's Day on the 14th of February every year instead of try to hold classes. It would make everyone's lives (except possibly parents' lives) easier.

As I have stated in many past posts, I have a decades-long addiction to fashion magazines. That I am a fan of the website Go Fug Yourself should be no surprise, as the women in charge are witty and charming. A few years ago they started attending and blogging about spring Fashion Week. Always amusing, just gossipy enough, and an interesting preview of what I'll find in my InStyle next month, I look forward to their excursions into the world of fashion. While I don't always agree with their assessments of outfits, I do share their undying admiration of Victoria Beckham. The more I read about her (and I really want to get ahold of her books someday) or see her in interviews the more I like her. Her designs are equally likable. Most fashion seems impossible off the runway, especially if you are not built like emaciated gazelle, but when you look at her collections, one can imagine that the dresses she designs could be a) worn in real life off the runway and 2) worn by normal-sized women. Which makes her aces in my book.

Finally, if you haven't yet seen the movie RED, go do that. Tonight. Not because it is an excellent movie or is in any way important. See it because it is a ridiculous movie and it knows it and it revels in it. Which made me giggle. Also, Helen Mirren is fantastic. And I personally believe that Karl Urban decided his character had decided his entire work persona would be an impersonation of Brad Pitt. Enjoy!

It Hardly Seems Fair

2011-02-07T17:32:00.000-08:00

I've been gone for a long time, which I assume means no one is reading this anymore. My absence has mostly been due to the insanity that is student teaching, as I was very, very busy. Also, I haven't figured out how to talk/write about my experiences in a way that I feel protects everyone involved. Although I will say that every single night (and sometimes during my naps) I have had a dream about the school and the students I worked with, which is completely annoying. It feels like I'm at work when I sleep and I wake up all fuzzy and uncertain about what I should be doing. Anyway, still processing the whole student teaching experience. Love teaching, not sure what to say about it. But that isn't what I really want to discuss.

What I really want to do is whine. Intellectually, I know that life is hard, the struggle is integral to our growth, yada. But that doesn't make it easy. And, frankly, I feel that what my family went through with my mom should preclude us from any more suffering. Again, intellectually I understand that isn't how the world works, but it doesn't stop me from throwing an internal temper tantrum when I find out my 2 and 1/2 year-old niece might have to have open-heart surgery. Because of who I am, I generally only imagine worst-case scenarios and nothing about the words 'open,' 'heart,' and 'surgery' inspire much confidence in best-case scenarios. So, yes, it hardly seems fair that my adorable little niece might have to have major surgery. We shouldn't have to go through this again.

Edited to Add: My niece has Atrial Septal Defect, which isn't uncommon and is fairly routine as pediatric heart conditions go. Her hole is pretty big, which means catheterization might be off the table, hence open-heart surgery.

Living In Limbo

2010-10-19T12:30:00.000-07:00

Even though I don't believe in Limbo theologically-speaking, I think Dante had it right when he placed Limbo as the first circle of Hell. Being stuck in between two possibilities is the worst, even (or especially) when one of those possibilities is not what you want. This whole fall has been an exercise in patience and existing in Limbo.

Student teaching is one excruciating round of Limbo (mostly I mean the place, but the dance/game is pretty hellish and bears some resemblance to student teaching, so choose the metaphor you like best). I feel that, between the hours of 7 a.m. and 4 p.m., I am being judged on everything I say, do, think, ask, believe etc. It is an extremely stressful way to exist. On top of that, I am being asked to prove my teaching ability in a classroom created by someone else, in which I am expected to follow protocols that I might not have chosen. This sounds like whining, but I'm not, I promise. The teachers I work with are fantastic and I am learning a lot, but the whole experiment has a very draining element and one on which hinges so much of my future. Every action, every choice, every word is weighted with portent because while doing or saying anything I have two very real possibilities before me. Every decision will either lead closer to the possibility of working as a full-time teacher or failure. Heaven or hell, good or bad, the possibility of failure much nearer because I haven't proven myself completely and received the pass to cross the river into paradise.

I also made the move from a single's ward to a family ward. The single's ward no longer felt like the place for me, partly because I was 31 and it was officially time to move on, but mostly because with every passing month I was becoming even more significantly older than the people in the ward. My roommates, at 21 and almost 23, were the old-timers in the ward. I didn't really fit. But then, I don't really fit in a family ward. The people my age have children and are in a completely different place. That doesn't mean we can't be friends, but it does mean our time is alloted so differently that it is hard to connect to even build a friendship. Besides all of that, however, is the fact that I just feel completely awkward. I am a single 30-something who is just now beginning to build a career. I am a statistical outlier and, generally, statistical outliers remain on the outside. We don't fit. Negotiating exactly how I fit is a time-consuming endeavor that I don't really have the time for right now. All my free time is taken up with sleep or lesson planning.

A final piece of the Limbo equation is that I don't know where I'll be living in a year. After June, I could be anywhere. The new teacher market in Bellingham is flooded, and as much as I love this place, it is likely I'll have to leave it. I don't know where I'll end up. Very few districts are actually hiring in these days of massive budget shortfalls. It is entirely possible I'll end up back in Moses Lake, the capstone of another failed endeavor to make a life for myself. Even if I find a job, it means another starting over, another new place, another effort at making friends and building a space that doesn't feel like Limbo.

Aural Obsessions

2010-08-07T15:05:00.000-07:00

The way I listen to music probably annoys other people, like my roommates, who have to hear what I play on a regular basis. I tend to get obsessed with a handful of songs and listen to them repeatedly for however long the obsession lasts. The songs aren't necessarily new, often the are songs that have been in my collection for ages and have heard on a regular basis, but something changes and they become all I want to hear. My fixation on a song can last anywhere from a few days to months and there really is no rhyme or reason to how or what catches my attention. I thought I would share the songs I'm currently obsessed with, so enjoy.

And So It Goes by Billy Joel

Coffee and Cigarettes by Michelle Featherstone

Ever Fallen In Love cover by Pete Yorn (originally by the Buzzcocks)

Between the Lines by Sara Bareilles

Orange Sky by Alexi Murdoch

I Am Not Normally A Violent Person

2010-08-03T17:33:00.000-07:00

However, I have developed a nearly-overwhelming urge to punch people in the face in the past few years. It isn't always the same people, which is good because if it were the same people repeatedly inspiring such feelings, I might end up actually doing it. And assaulting someone is never a good idea, whatever Hollywood says about such things.

But I digress.

The rotating group of people who inspire such ire and rage are those who attempt to make me feel okay about being 31 and single. Which most of the time I am okay with, in fact most of the time I am quite okay with it, happy in fact. To quote Gwen Stefani, 'the longer I wait, the more selfish I get.' I enjoy my life and what I am doing and have done with it. Sure I wish I occasionally had a date, but that isn't the norm and it isn't what I spend my days obsessing about and it isn't why I'm angry. Rather, it is when people feel they have to reassure me that the rage sets in. Cognitively, I know they think they are being helpful, but really what they are implying is that I should feel down because I'm not married, that I should be devastated that I'm not a wife and a mother, which is why they need to reassure me. So, in offering their support and reassurances, I'm hearing nothing but pity and the endless conversations they must be having in which they talk about feeling sorry for me because I'm not a wife and mother and, therefore, must have a never-ending parade of dismal, depressing, and disconsolate days. Which I patently do not.

The worst sort of reassurance is one I term The Consolation Prize. In the LDS world, The Consolation Prize comment employs either Wendy Watson Nelson or Kristen McMain Oaks as examples. These women, single for most of their lives and living lovely, productive lives, are married to Elder Russell M. Nelson and Elder Dallin H. Oaks (respectively), well-loved Apostles of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I have to be very careful how I phrase the next bit, because I think both couples are wonderful and the women are fantastic examples of living life to the fullest even if things you hope for do not come when expected. However, people who use them in their Consolation Prize reassurances do not focus on this aspect of their lives. Instead, they point out that at the end of their prolonged singleness, they were 'rewarded' with marriages to esteemed men. All of which, to me, negates their true example. It turns something real and bittersweet, long-single women and recently widowed men finding happiness, into an unreal, fairytalesque anecdote or the plot of an LDS-oriented romantic dramedy. Which seems unfair to everyone involved. It also tends to imply that other long-single women, women who stay that way and do not end up married to a General Authority, are somehow lacking. That Sheri L. Dew or Barbara Thompson or the myriad other, unknown single sisters living quiet Gospel-oriented lives around the world who remain single are somehow doing something wrong because they are still single. Which is the worst possible thing to imply.

This is all leading to the point that I don't need reassuring, especially reassuring that makes me feel like a freak rather than just a regular statistical outlier. If someone wants to reassure a single person, they really shouldn't bring up marriage or singleness at all. Talk about what is actually going on in that person's life, their adventures, their jobs, their interests or hobbies, something that makes it seem like you actually know them as a person, rather than solely as a single person.

I bring this up, not because of anything someone has said to me lately, but because my roommate recently ended a serious relationship and has been watching a series of romantic comedies (or dramedies as the case may be) and we have very different opinions about their endings. She wants them all to end happily ever after while I prefer the bittersweet endings that may not be the traditional happily ever after but feel real. Which got me thinking about why people feel they need to reassure me and why it makes me so irate.

I think the reason I get so irate, especially when handed some variation of The Consolation Prize, is that real life is not easily packaged, nor does the Hollywood happily ever after have any relation to real life. Romantic comedies generally end with a kiss or a wedding. That is not the end of the story; that is the beginning of the story. When the screen goes black after the kiss or the wedding it signals that the hardships are over, that everything was blissful, that the fairytale is complete and nothing bad ever happens again. That is, possibly, the biggest falsehood embraced by society. Relationships are hard. They take work. Soulmates aren't out there just waiting to find one another; you choose your own soulmate and then you work like crazy to make sure you stay that way. It isn't easy and the problems don't just go away. It doesn't mean that relationships and marriage aren't worth it, if done right they make hardships and difficulties less hard and less difficult because you have someone to share them with, but it doesn't make them easy.

All of which is to say, I would like to get married and have children but if it doesn't happen I'm going to be okay with that. I just wish other people would let me be okay with it.

Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes

2010-08-02T15:49:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I look through my blog archives and wonder what happened to my posting ability. Or, really, my drive to do so. I think what happened, and it's just a theory, is that for the past 3 years I have been operating in survival mode. It has taken this summer, the last seven weeks, of doing absolutely nothing (well, mostly nothing) to get me feeling like a real human being again. I have finally started to remember what makes me, me. It is a nice feeling, getting reacquainted with myself. Which led me to some thinking about several things, which subsequently led me to make some decisions, which then led to some changes.

The first important decision was to start going to a family ward in September. I turned 31 last October and I think it is time I waved good-bye to the YSA life. That decision led to my being released as Relief Society President yesterday. It still doesn't seem quite real, although I now have fewer keys, less paperwork, and a much more open calendar.

The second important decision is that I need to start living healthier. I have developed some very, very bad habits over the last five years or so, and they need to stop. This led to two changes, the first being my giving up soda, which means no more daily doses of Dr. Pepper, Cherry Coke, or Coke & Lime. I thought it would be hard, since I just started on Monday of last week. It hasn't been. In fact, I bought a Dr. Pepper on Saturday and I didn't enjoy it all that much. Some of it has to do with my new addiction to San Pellegrino and Lime, but at least it has no sugar, no caffeine, and no calories, right? Also, I committed myself to doing a non-couch potato activity three times a week. So far, so good. And since I don't actually call it exercise, I don't end up pushing myself so hard I'm miserable and injure myself and give up. So yay!

The third decision is that I need to start doing things I love again. Which means writing and reading and occasionally doing something artistic. I have a little less of a developed plan on that one, but I figure actually posting on my blog is a step in the right direction. We'll see what happens.

And finally, I hope the title of this post got David Bowie stuck in your head.

Summer Vacation

2010-07-27T15:22:00.000-07:00

I spent a few days on the Oregon coast for a few days this month for my stepmother's family reunion. It was so beautiful there - I want to permanently relocate to a tiny beach house somewhere along there in the near future. Can you blame me?

I went crabbing for the first time while I was there - thankfully the rain stopped shortly after we started. It was fun, but wet. And I don't eat shellfish, so I didn't partake in the fruits of our labors.

A few days after I got home, my friend Tina Spahkle came up for a visit. We had a lot of fun, most of it when we left our cameras behind, but we did manage to capture a few fun pictures while exploring Larrabee State park.

Most of the rest of my summer has been spent worrying about student teaching, finding a job, and facing the real world again. And I have a stack of partially read books I need to finish in the next four weeks. Good times.

As A Lady Of Leisure

2010-06-29T16:00:00.000-07:00

The job hunt is not going well, especially since most places that do summer hires around here are actually downsizing. So I have had some time on my hands. This has meant lazy mornings in which I don't get out of my pajamas until it is no longer morning and hours spent finishing projects that have been sitting gathering the proverbial dust for months and months. It also means that I have had lots of time to catch up on my movie viewing. I'm burning through my Netflix queue and have seen some good things in the theater, so here are mini-reviews in case you are interested.

Iron Man 2

I saw this months ago, but I still feel it necessary to mention because it is just plain fun. Robert Downey, Jr.'s devil-may-care attitude is firmly in place, Gwyneth Paltrow and Scarlett Johansson have higly covetable wardrobes, and I still drool over the beach house that doubles as the Iron Man bunker of invention and inebriation. I was less enthralled with the villains of the piece, mostly because one was so hyperactively quirky and the other so muted, despite his requisite rage, that it seemed at once too much and not enough. Also, I had no idea creating new elements only required laser beams and Captain America's shield. Good times.

Prince of Persia: Some unnecessary subtitle that does nothing to illustrate the dreaminess of Jake Gyllenhaal in this film

This movie wasn't necessarily something I was looking forward to, but it looked like a nice way to escape reality for a couple of hours. Also, my main criteria for deciding when to spend unholy sums to watch a movie in the theater is a) will I regret not seeing it on the big screen and 2) are there dreamy actors involved. The answer to both of those questions was yes for something like Prince of Persia, so I went. And I was pleasantly surprised. I know critics had multiple complaints, but I thought this movie was very much in the tradition of jolly adventures like The Pirates of the Caribbean trilogy. I would not be surprised if there was eventually a Prince of Persia ride at Disneyland. Anyway, if the movie is at a dollar theater near you, go see it. It isn't going to change the world, but it did make me laugh.

Hairspray (1988)

So you know how the musical Hairspray - both the Broadway show and the film adaptation - has a loving family at its core and really only the obvious antagonists seem without human decency? Well, that is the complete opposite of the source material. I couldn't finish this film. It is bitter and unhappy and even the 'good guys' in the piece were people I would avoid on the street. All the parents are overbearing, all the teenagers are oblivious and self-centered, all the jokes are at someone's expense. Do yourself a favor and avoid this. I had to watch the film adaptation of the musical after attempting to watch this, just to cleanse my palate.

Avatar

I watched this with my brother and sister-in-law. I kept falling asleep and yet not missing anything. Also, pretty much plotted out the course of the movie after the first third. In fact, I didn't actually get to finish it with them, but I don't feel like I ever need to finish it. Sure, the visuals were stunning, but that is not enough to get me to watch it again. Unless I'm suffering from insomnia.

The A-Team

As a child, my favorite non-cartoon shows were Knight Rider and The A-Team. I LOVED these shows and seriously thought owning a black van and a Trans Am were the height of adult attainment. So I was a bit skeptical when I first heard about The A-Team movie. Then they did things like cast Bradley Cooper and Liam Neeson in it and I had to go see it. Which I did. First of all, watching it made me feel like a kid again, that feeling of excitement and enthrallment when you get wrapped up in a show that you aren't quite sure isn't real. I got to be seven again, which is a wonderful feeling. Secondly, the casting was pretty much perfect and the plot managed to just barely stay on the acceptable side of the crazy line. The only moment of disbelief I couldn't willingly suspend (and this movie requires a good bit of suspension of disbelief) was the fact that Jessica Biel's character - a military officer tasked with enforcing law and ensuring justice - wore 4-inch stilettos during most of the movie. Which is insane. If you liked the show as a kid, definitely go see it. It will make you feel like a kid again - in a good way. Also, stay til the very end of the credits.

Hamlet (2009)

Even casual readers of this blog know I love David Tennant. In 2007 when it was announced that he would be doing Hamlet for the RSC, I was ecstatic and wanted to go to England to see it on stage. I started graduate school instead. However, the RSC and the cast nicely filmed an adaptation of their staging of the play, which I bought at Target in the spring and finally got around to watching. Now, I love the play. I find the whole discussion of grief and sanity fascinating. I thought Kenneth Branagh's 1996 adaptation was gorgeous. I still think that. However, David Tennant's Hamlet is so very engaging. I don't know that I have seen an adaptation that let the actor portraying Hamlet play so very much with the question of his own sanity. The introspection and exhaustion that follow grief and trauma is readily apparent and I loved it. Patrick Stewart is, of course, marvelous as Claudius and the supporting cast is fantastic as well. If you are a fan of the play, David Tennant, Patrick Stewart, or anything Shakespeare do check out this adaptation. It will be 3+ hours well spent.

Lars and the Real Girl

It is really impossible to describe this movie in any coherent way. It is about a community coming together to help one of it's own. It is about the human capacity for love. It makes you take stock of your own attitudes toward humanity. I watched the whole thing on tenterhooks, expecting cruelty and horridness in ever new scene when all the movie offered was kindness and love. Which made me think about what that said about me. I highly recommend checking this sweet movie about a man struggling through traumas from his past and present and how people around him show that they care and love him. It will make your day.

American Teen

This is billed as a documentary, which it is. Sort of. It is about actual high school seniors in Indiana. The kids are real, the school is real, the situations are real. However, it is highly edited to present a certain narrative. One could argue that most documentaries are edited down to present a narrative. But, this seems to want to keep the kids in simple categories for most of the film and glosses over complexities that would have made the film far more powerful and interesting. The students aren't necessarily shown as their true selves, but rather examples of generalized types. Some small moments in the film hint that each student is more than who they are presented as and who they present themselves as, but they are rare, almost as if they were forgotten pieces of greater stories that ended up on the cutting room floor. Also, in this post-reality television world when kids are brought up with shows like The Hills, is it even possible for them to be their true selves when being followed by a camera? Being observed heightens any situation and alters the way people behave. Oh, and be forewarned - the movie can be a trigger for any unresolved high school PTSD stuff you might have.

The Proposal

I finally took the time to watch this movie. I don't really know why I didn't see this before now, as I enjoy both Sandra Bullock and Betty White, but I didn't. I enjoyed the movie, but I kind of wish the film had spent more time in character development rather than naked hijinks and the many talents of small town general store managers/caterers/strippers. I felt I should care about the main characters and that I would probably even like them if the were real people I knew, but there weren't enough reasons for me to care about the characters. Other than being portrayed by likable actors like Sandra Bullock and Ryan Reynolds. Frankly, I need a little more than that.

Cactus Flower

This movie caught my eye on Netflix simply because it said it starred Walter Matthau, Goldie Hawn, and Ingrid Bergman. That is a very random combination of actors. But it is a combination that completely works. I really enjoyed this movie - a romantic comedy that works better than most. Goldie Hawn won an Oscar for her role, which is understandable. And Ingrid Bergman just shimmers in it, especially given the freedom to be funny - something I don't think she was given much freedom to do. And, honestly, it is one of those great roles for an over-40 actress that seem so rare because it isn't a caricature. If you check out only one movie on this list, choose this one.

Baby Bee Is Here!

2010-06-12T19:38:00.000-07:00

My second niece, Baby Bee, arrived yesterday at 6:37 pm. She is 8lbs 5oz and 21 inches long. She is also the quietest, longest sleeping baby I've met in quite a while. She slept through getting her heel poked and didn't do more than one little grunt while being examined and man-handled by the pediatrician. And she has patiently put up with all of Bug's poking and exclamations. Seems like the perfect second child!

A Few Ground Rules

2010-06-08T13:50:00.000-07:00

I spent the past few days considering whether I actually wanted to keep this blog going. There was a slight kerfuffle due to my last post that seeped into my real life - something I very much do not like at all. This blog was supposed to be a place I could write what I was thinking and feeling and then leave it behind. Lately I felt an increasing need to self-edit, due to who has been reading my blog. Part of it is my fault for linking the blog on my Facebook page. Part of it was a slight panicky feeling when people addressed me by my name in comments. I thought about either deleting the blog altogether or making in private. Both would cause different issues and different, but similarly scaled, work loads. Neither felt right because both felt like I was making all the accommodations when it was my blog and my small corner of the virtual world. So here is the deal - I'm laying a few ground rules for my blog. If they are followed, great. This weekend will just be a small hiccup. If not, then I will reassess and see what happens.

My Rules:

If you comment, please DO NOT use my real name. There is a reason I use the pseudonym Scully. I like having a slight veneer of anonymity on my blog. I do not use real names in what I write. Please extend me the same courtesy. If not, I will delete your comments.
I write to get rid of things, to get things off my chest. It is a cathartic form of writing. This means that what I'm feeling when I write generally stays where I left it, on the blog. Feel free to debate my sentiments, to argue, to be offended if you wish, but know that I have moved on and do not want to deal with it in real life. That is why it is on the blog.
As a caveat to the previous rule, it is not my intention to use my blog to ridicule, harangue, lecture, or abuse someone. What I write is what I feel about a situation, my interpretation of events. If I get upset about something, it is because of the way it affects me. I don't hold grudges and won't call anyone out, but I will express my feelings and opinions. It is a balancing act and I won't always be successful.

Hopefully this is just a refresher and we can all go back to my regularly scheduled rants.

I Spend Days Deciding What Shoes To Buy, I'm NOT Going To Rush Picking A Husband

2010-06-04T13:20:00.000-07:00

Today at the Institute Friday forum, where they feed us lunch and have a speaker, I wandered into the kitchen to wash my dishes. Just minding my own business, washing my dishes, I suddenly became the topic of conversation between the two people already in the kitchen. One was the mother of a friend of mine, my friend being in her late 20s and also unmarried, and the other a retired man who serves with his wife as the CES missionaries. They must have been talking about how my friend is unmarried when I walked in because her mom was saying she was picky and then she starts referring to "these two" which apparently included me. Out of nowhere I was under attack for being picky and caught totally unprepared. I declared, quite loudly, that it was for eternity so I was going to be picky, thank you very much. Then they went back to talking about how in the world they were going to get "these two" married. Like they have ANYTHING to do with it AT ALL. Also, how in the world am I supposed to get married when a) the pool of eligible men remotely close to my age is miniscule and 2) that pool shrinks further when you add the demand that they be upstanding and temple-worthy. I think that leaves 1, maybe 2, individuals in my possible dating pool. Oh, and one can't get married if one never gets asked out on a date. Argh.

Blerg Seems Like An Understatement

2010-06-02T13:59:00.000-07:00

But it will have to do for now. Today is the nadir of the year, has been for the last three years and most likely will be for the rest of my life. What is the worst is being so busy the date doesn't really register until you are sitting in your 8am class and the date is made abundantly clear and there is nowhere to run and hide. So now, on top of dealing with all the other feelings you have to deal with, guilt gets added to the pile. Good times.

Soliciting Your Opinion Yet Again

2010-05-28T17:34:00.000-07:00

The portfolio I'm working on for my creative writing class has to include poetry, which I am much less comfortable with than prose. Prose I know where I stand whereas, with poetry, I am on much less certain ground. So, here are eight poems I've written in class - let me know which ones you like the best. The poems are linked below.

The Dilemma

Not old, not brand new

Gently used is how I would say it

if I were to put an ad on Craigslist or eBay

or in the long-forgotten penny saver.

Just gently used red shoes.

They might do for me

or they might pinch at the toe

the size being not quite right.

But it would be a pity to let them go.

They are only gently used, too happy a shoe

to be left on the shelf in dire days

too structured a shoe for

arthritic and swollen feet.

Double Delight

I have started to forget the names.

Some I remember,

like Rio Samba and St. Patrick’s Day

which was green, but had no smell.

Rio Samba smelled slightly spicy, like mango salsa

on a hot day.

There was a pink and white one that smelled like cotton candy.

A smell intensified by heat

when warmed by the sun reflecting off the brick

of the house.

Gemini, maybe it was called, like the twins;

a double threat of beauty and smell.

Another smelled like pepper, in a way that reminded

one of home-cooked meals

rather than the grinders found in restaurants.

But the best, the one that outshone them all,

smelt of happiness and joy.

A smell you can’t place but know instinctively as part

of the good days.

That is the smell I remember, the rose I keep in my memory

until I have a yard of my own.

That is the rose of better days, of times before tears

of summers spent together

when worries didn’t mute the sunshine.

That is the smell I’ll miss if I ever drive past the old house again.

Blood Loss

Starting over and over, repeatedly fighting vampires until I win;

rewinding the nightmare to the beginning should I lose.

Sleep is no longer a refuge

as the battles of the day resume in the subconscious.

It isn’t quite the same, there is no loss of life in day.

Only the haunting exhaustion of burdens carried far too long

without respite.

Losing myself to the demands of the hour, the day, the week.

But only in the night does my subconscious fight back,

refusing to let me become a victim of the blood-letters

refusing to lose.

I make my last stand in my subconscious and hope it bleeds through to day.

The Spectre of Social Networking

After all this time apart

Between years of school and

Careers changed with circumstance a

Decade of differences

Exacting its revenge

Flows between us

Gives no one a

Hint that we ever knew anything

Interesting about one another now

Just friends on Facebook

Knowing nothing but what is written in the occasional status update

Like how work or school goes

Maybe who we have befriended

Nothing that speaks

Of how you once

Played a James Taylor song just for me to

Quiet all my apprehension

Risen from being thousands of miles from my

Sick mother while I

Tried to write an essay reflecting my

Understanding of how Parliamentary powers have changed over the

Vast centuries between Henry VIII and Edward VIII

When you could strike my nerves like a

Xylophone and you never knew how

You filled my thoughts and dreams – all this

Zipped up in a duffel bag shoved under my bed

10:41 on a Sunday Night

I wish I could call a time out on life

and catch up on all the things I need to do

and all the sleep I've missed

in the last four years

It has been four years

of weddings

deaths

births

the endings and the starting-overs that punctuate life

but my life has not had punctuation

no periods

no semi-colons

not even one little comma

in the last four years

just one

long run-on sentence in which I am neither

the subject nor the verb

not even the direct object

Simply the space after each word that links

one to another providing structure

and rhythm

invisibly

The Value of Feminism

They sell bikinis at the GAP

for two year-olds

and kindergarten girls shop

for miniskirts and spaghetti-strap camisoles

while ten year-olds watch High School Musical II

obsessively

and discuss the various merits

of curled hair versus straight

their older sisters in the next bedroom over

perfecting the application of mascara

planning outfits from which various pieces can be removed

after passing parental inspection

because someone decided that being sexy

was the only acceptable expression

of the feminine power that once stood

at the pinnacle of creation

There Is Always a Base Note of Urine – a Decade in Urbanity

London smells mostly of dew and garbage

on early Sunday mornings

with a tinge of urine

if you are up and out the door before 8 am

and take a deep breath

as you walk to the tube station

when the sky is still grey

matching the sidewalk

DC is more humid and hot

the garbage collectors keep the garbage smell at bay

so it is just the smell of heat and urine

as you sweat under the sun

and endure the heat index of 115

and the metro station appears like an air-conditioned oasis

tempting you to ride it for just one block

forgetting to mention the train is like a sardine can without A/C

Even Salt Lake City

with its inhabitants’ delusions of utopia

hints in its evening breeze

of an underground metropolis of homeless

entering the parks at dusk and relieving themselves

on the meticulously manicured expanses

on which so many children so recently played

when the smell was hidden by collective will

I imagine when I get to Paris or Athens

Singapore or Sydney

perhaps even as far as Beijing

that as I’m astounded by the beauty

the grandeur

the individuality of each metropolis

I will find the familiar scent of urban life underneath

whatever exotic top note dominates the city

35 Euros Well Spent

Orange and blue

Red and grey

Yellow and purple

Carry force across the crowded gallery

Enough to block out the name

The famous name

Of Yeats

Not the Yeats, the other one

The brother who painted like the father

The brother whose brush strokes contained power and rage

Thought and vision same as

The words and rhythms

Of the Irish poet

Even Americans have heard of

These Men of Destiny

Nonchalant

Hands in pockets

Confident that the purple ocean and the yellow land

The blue-grey sky

And the red-orange rocks

Are theirs and no one else’s

They are not the ones

Slouching towards Bethlehem

They are the ones

Filled with confidence

They are the centre that holds

Something you can hang on your wall

To remind you

That they exist

Those men of destiny

That believe in themselves

And believe in you

So that you have no choice

But to believe it yourself

As you rush out the door at the start of another day

A Very Long, Involved Post In Which I Politely Ask For Your Opinion

2010-05-17T17:17:00.000-07:00

In order to do the core endorsement that will, in theory, make me one iota more employable in this wretched economy, I am required to take five English classes. I'm in my last one right now, Creative Writing, which is fun and I wish I had less other stuff to do so I could concentrate for on it. But, the end project is a portfolio in which we have to have one short story and five poems. Since I don't really have time for a lengthy revision process AND I am so stressed my decision-making skills have disappeared (seriously, it took 20 minutes this morning to decide if I needed to wash my hair. Not good.) I am asking you, dear readers, to give me your opinion on the three different stories I wrote during our short story workshop. These are all first drafts and I have some fairly extensive notes from my workshop group, so I'm mostly looking for what you think would be the best story to spend time improving. If you want to leave comments, fantastic. If you just want to vote in the poll, great. The stories are after the jump.

The Upside of the Late Shift

Truth, Officer Morris thought, is what people make of it. Perception is most people’s reality. He was about to express this idea to his partner, Officer Hardin, but thought better of it. Like so many of his ideas, Officer Morris was unsure if it was original. So instead, he broke the silence with:

“Quiet night.”

“Ungh,” grunted Hardin in reply.

Officer Morris shifted in his seat uncomfortably. They had been on patrol for nearly seven hours and Officer Hardin was not making this easy. Not that Officer Morris expected him to make it easy. Officer Hardin had earned a reputation for living up to his name. Officially, Officer Morris’s partner Officer Clark was taking a personal day. However, everyone knew that when you pulled Officer Hardin as a substitute partner, you were getting evaluated. It was one of the Chief’s ways of unofficially keeping tabs on all the officers. Especially those officers who acted outside what the Chief considered to be normal parameters. Officer Morris was unsure exactly what he had done to warrant the attention. He rarely attracted attention to himself, for good or ill, and liked it that way. His only peculiarity on the force was his contentment working the night shift. Unlike most of the other officers, Morris was happy patrolling the streets from 1800 hours to 0600 hours. Sure most of the crazier stuff went down during those hours, but it was also paradoxically quieter. There was something about driving around the dark and mostly empty streets of Downtown Spokane that appealed to Morris’s philosophical leanings. Of course he had other reasons for volunteering for the night shift.

“Do you always drive the streets in this order?” barked Officer Hardin, interrupting Officer Morris’s reverie.

“No. Every day I pick a different starting point on the grid and work my way around the neighborhoods. The map in the glove compartment has post-it notes marking the starting points for the last 5 days.” Officer Morris responded curtly. He barely caught himself before adding ‘Sir’ to his reply. He tried, with some difficulty, to keep his military years in the past.

“Mmmph,” responded Officer Hardin as he began perusing the map. Officer Morris thought he caught a quick, slight nod out of the corner of his eye as Officer Hardin returned the map to the glove compartment. Morris almost strained his neck trying to keep from doing a double take. Approbation was the last thing he expected. The radio crackled.

“Car 687, what’s your 20?” inquired the disembodied voice of the dispatcher.

“Our 20 is 2nd and Jefferson,” Officer Morris responded.

“Response requested at 650 Cedar Street for a domestic disturbance. Neighbor called it in complaining about the noise – screams to be exact. No priors,” returned the dispatcher.

“In route,” answered Officer Morris as he accelerated south along Jefferson.

Officer Hardin heaved a sigh. “So much for a quiet night,” he muttered in a way that seemed to imply he held Officer Morris responsible. Not that Morris blamed him. Domestic disturbance calls were the worst – you never knew what you were going to get, especially when a neighbor called it in. The lights stayed green along Jefferson and 5th and Officer Morris eased the car up to the curb faster than he had anticipated. The house was quiet and dark except for one open basement window. Officer Morris and Officer Hardin got out of the car and advanced toward the door. As they reached the stoop they could hear a man’s voice, increasing in volume but still indistinguishable, coming from the basement. Officer Morris rang the doorbell at the precise moment a shriek pierced the sleepy silence of the neighborhood.

“Spokane Police Department! Please open the door!” barked Officer Morris. There was the sound of running and Officer Hardin automatically moved to intercept someone coming from the back. The door flew open, revealing a young man in pajama pants and bare feet, followed closely behind by a young woman in an old, too-small Ramones t-shirt and boxer shorts. They were both wide-eyed and clutching matching sheaves of paper.

“Can we help you, Officers?” asked the young man timidly.

“We received a noise complaint about a domestic disturbance. Is everything alright here?” Officer Morris asked, aiming for the most non-accusatory tone he could muster. The pair at the door looked at each other with even wider eyes.

“Everything’s fine.” they answered in unison.

“Can we come in?” demanded Officer Hardin. The pair backed away from the door to allow the officers inside. The young woman turned on a lamp. The living room was orderly, filled with cheap furniture – cast offs and Craigslist finds – but showed a unifying taste and a lived-in sense of order.

“Are you the only people here?” Officer Hardin’s questions were hardly questions. The cowed duo sunk onto a battered, oversized recliner and nodded.

“What are your names?” Officer Morris tried a gentler approach, hoping to elicit some sort of response.

“Ryan”

“Mia”

The answers came quickly, again in unison, and it took Officer Morris’s brain a second to sort the sounds into coherent words.

“All right, Ryan, why don’t you show Officer Hardin the kitchen while I talk to Mia for a moment, okay?” said Officer Morris. Ryan mutely led Officer Hardin back while Mia scooted back further into the recliner and pulled her knees up to her chin.

“Mia, are you okay? That was a pretty intense scream I heard,” began Officer Morris. Inexplicably Mia smiled.

“Really? You, like, thought it was real?” she asked. “I’ve been practicing for, like, forever.”

“Practicing?”

“Yeah – we open in, like, a week.”

“Open?”

“Yeah, Ryan’s play – its his senior thesis.” She thrust the pages she had been clutching at Officer Morris. He flipped to the front page and read “Peril” by Ryan Patrick Barry. He flipped back where the script had been open –the second act ended with the direction ‘Sybil shrieks as the lights go down.’

“So, you’re Sybil?” Officer Morris asked Mia as he returned her script.

“Yeah – Ryan wrote the part for me. I’m, like, his Muse.”

“Totally!” echoed Ryan, as he and Office Hardin re-entered the room. Officer Morris couldn’t tell if Officer Hardin was grimacing or stifling a laugh.

“Well, you might want to choose a different place to rehearse so you don’t disturb your neighbors,” suggested Officer Morris.

“But we found ways to soundproof the basement on the Internet!” protested Ryan.

“You left the basement window open,” snapped Officer Hardin.

“OMG” breathed Mia.

“Maybe give it a rest for tonight, its after 3 in the morning,” Officer Morris recommended.

“Yeah, totally! Man, we’re sorry. We got caught up in it, you know?” Ryan offered apologetically.

Officer Morris and Officer Hardin moved toward the door.

“Do you guys, like, work, like, all night long?” asked Mia.

It was the officers’ turn to nod in unison.

“You must be starving! Here,” she shoved a candy dish at them. It had full sized Caramellos in it.

“No, I’m fine. Thanks,” said Officer Morris. Officer Hardin just shook his head.

“I know they’re candy bars, but they, like, have 100 less calories than Pop Tarts. Which totally makes you think, what other stuff is worse than candy bars, right?” She kept proffering the candy bars as the officers backed toward the door.

Officer Hardin turned on his heels on the stoop and stalked down the walk to the car while Office Morris mumbled another ‘No, thanks,’ and followed him. Officer Hardin slammed the door and muttered, “Dumb kids.” Officer Morris sank into his seat and started the car. He exhaled slowly and loudly, just as Officer Hardin sighed. Morris could feel the remnants of adrenaline and tension run through him. Officer Hardin kept tensing and releasing his hands, forming fists in quick succession. The radio crackled again.

“Car 687, what’s your 20?”

“Our 20 is 600 and Cedar Street – the domestic disturbance was a false alarm.”

“Got another noise complaint – couple of people heard a single loud shout on Walnut, south of 5th.”

“On our way,” Officer Morris turned left onto 7th and travelled the block to Walnut. Turning right onto Walnut, Officer Morris saw house lights on a couple of blocks ahead. He was so focused on scanning the lights in the distance; he nearly missed the long-haired man walking towards them down the street. The man waved, a popsicle stick in one hand. Officer Morris raised his hand in reply as he drove past before realizing that was probably the shouter. He glanced at Officer Hardin, whose hand was just descending from his own reflexive wave. Officer Hardin caught Morris’s eye and shrugged, with a “Huh” that sounded almost humorous. The popsicle man continued his leisurely pace, shrinking in the rearview mirror. Officer Morris just kept driving north.

A few hours later, Officer Morris and Officer Hardin made their way back to the precinct. There was little paper work, another benefit of the quiet night, and Officer Morris was leaving the precinct by 5:30. He passed Officer Hardin on his way out, said good-bye and was startled to receive a hardy pat on the shoulder and a “Nice job, kid,” in return. Pondering this turn of events, he drove automatically, following his post-shift ritual. He entered the diner with the rising sun.

“Hey, Cal. The usual?” asked the woman behind the counter, her smile as bright and welcome as the morning light.

“Yeah. Thanks, Luce.” Morris lowered himself onto his usual bar stool.

“Long night?” came Lucy’s voice from the back.

“No, actually pretty quiet.” Morris answered, his reply audibly descending as Lucy returned. “But have I got a story for you.”

“You know how I like your stories,” said Lucy, pouring two cups of coffee and settling onto the stool she kept behind the bar for these sorts of slow times.

The Letter

12 September 1926

My Dearest Betsy,

I know it has only been a week since you and your family got on the train back to Boston, but Ottawa is quiet and lonely without you all. I enjoyed our summer together and wish I were not separated from my darling grandchildren by quite so many miles. Christmas will come soon though and we shall be reunited. What an adventure it will be for you and your brothers to show me all the wonders of Boston.

As I am now residing in a quiet and empty house, I have many hours to think and to remember. Our times together over the summer brought back many memories of my own childhood. I was not so very lucky as you, Dear One, for you have a Mama and a Papa who love you so, and brothers to look after you. I was alone in the world and did not have the happiness or the comfort you enjoy. I often wished it were otherwise when I was young, about your age and feeling very abandoned by mankind, but now I think it has given me the ability to appreciate all the gifts of my adult life and my beautiful family.

Betsy, you are young and have been blessed with everything one could wish for as a young girl. I am glad you have not had to suffer with loneliness or heartache or want, but I am worried that you have not yet learned to appreciate all the many favors God has bestowed on you. You are a good girl, but at times this summer seemed so intent on what you wanted, regardless of the possible cost, that I feel I must say something. So, if you will be patient and indulge your old grandmother, I will tell you a story of my girlhood.

I was very young when I was sent to the Sisters of Mercy Home for Orphans, my parents and older siblings having succumbed to the cholera that was spreading through the area. I have no memory of my home before the orphanage – it was all I knew. I was generally happy, not knowing anything to compare the orphanage to, but there were times when something whispered around the edges of my memory and I would ache for what I could not remember.

I was a very quiet child, which pleased the sisters or, at the very least, did not aggravate them. I became rather studious, finding companionships in books that I failed to find in my life at the orphanage. I did well in my lessons and by the age of nine had decided to become a schoolteacher – I knew even then that the life of religious service was not for me. My life continued on much has it always done until the fall I turned eleven. We were joined by a new orphan, a girl who altered the entire routine of the orphanage.

Louisa arrived at the door of the Sisters of Mercy in September. She was twelve, nearly a year older than me. She lorded her happy and prosperous childhood over the rest of us. She came with a trunk of clothes and toys that the Sisters had deigned to let her keep. She, and her gold curls, charmed them. For them she was a tragic figure, not the product or bearer of parental sins. Sister Mary Seraphina, who believed all of us children were the spawn of Hell, chose not to correct her when her sums were wrong or she forgot her catechism. Sister Clotilde, the postulant, doted on her and even Sister Mary Heloise, who guarded the library like a lioness, only mildly censured her when she left a book out in the rain.

I did my best to avoid Louisa. She thought, because she was the oldest, that she was the natural leader of our small band of girls. I had become accustomed to being looked to as the leader, having been at the orphanage far longer than any other girl there. Usually children as young as I was when I arrived at the orphanage were adopted by kindly couples. They would come to the Sisters and meet with us, as we stood in a line in our best frocks. I was never chosen, perhaps because the fear of cholera was still so strong, perhaps I, with my quiet, serious way, did not appeal to them. For whatever reason, I was the longest-lasting resident of the orphanage, but one. There was a boy, John, who stayed and helped the sisters in keeping up the buildings and the grounds and in taking the extra vegetables we grew in the summers to the market. Most of the young men, when they reached ten or eleven, were taken in by farmers as extra hands.

But back to my story, dear child. It starts a few months after Louisa arrived, in the depths of December. We had had our first great winter storm and the ground was covered with fresh snow. The pond had a frozen over, stilled by the freezing temperatures. That day in December I was standing, staring out of a window on the second floor across the grounds and the neighboring fields at the glistening landscape. I wish I could paint you a picture, how the view was at once so familiar and so foreign. I was engrossed in my own thoughts and didn’t hear anyone approach and was startled when I was interrupted.

“I want to go ice skating.” I turned to see Louisa looking over my shoulder at the pond below. I stood still, staring out the window, hoping she would move on in search of more satisfying attention-givers. She didn’t leave.

“No one here has ice skates,” I replied.

“I do,” she stated, as if I should have known. The depths of her one trunk hid many treasures.

“The pond only froze last night; the ice isn’t thick enough for skating yet. The sisters won’t let us out on the pond until the middle of January.” This was true – it was often a mid-January treat for us to be able to play on the frozen pond, doing our best in our thick-soled boots to approximate the grace of skating on blades of steel.

“Don’t be silly! I will talk to the sisters, it will be my present to all the girls.” With that declaration, Louisa turned with a flounce of her curls and walked off in search of one of the sisters, full of confidence that she would soon be on the ice. The sisters, however, knew the ways of water and ice better than even I did and absolutely refused to consider Louisa’s request. She petitioned, pleaded, petted, and pouted but to no avail. There would be no talk of going on the ice until January.

I had thought that would be the end of it, but I discovered, walking into the girls dormitory to get a book I had promised Sister Mary Heloise I would return, Louisa was holding court in the farthest
corner of the room. They did not notice me at first, so I was able to move close enough to hear.

“After dinner,” directed Louisa, “when the sisters are discussing the day, we can sneak down, one or two at a time. Everyone will get a turn – we can stuff the skates with socks and rags. It will be ever so much fun.”

“You aren’t planning on skating?” I demanded. I was shocked that she would disobey the sisters in such a dangerous enterprise. I had often disobeyed the sisters in small matters, but this was different.

“Oh, Agnes!” she laughed, “You sound like an old nun already.”

“But it isn’t safe!” I looked at the small group girls she had gathered. There were the twins, Hope and Mercy, Frances, Constance, Edith, and little Ruth. Ruth was seven and small for her age. She was John’s little sister and part of the reason John had been allowed to stay and help the sisters, rather than be sent out as a farm hand. I looked after Ruth and kept her safe from some of the crueler girls. She looked at me with wide eyes and then back at Louisa.

“What a spoil sport!” cried Louisa. “We are all so small and light, what danger is there?”

“You can NOT go skating! The ice is too thin and if you fall in you could freeze to death.” I did not look at Louisa, but made sure all the other girls met my eyes. I looked at Ruth last. “Please don’t go skating. Please.” The other girls nodded and walked away. I looked at Louisa, who simply smiled and walked away, curls bouncing with each step. I knew she wouldn’t give up, but I thought that I had at least convinced the other girls.

After dinner I made my way up to my second-floor window. To my shock and horror I saw in the twilight a small group of figures huddled on the edge of the pond. I turned from the window and ran down the stairs and out the door, shouting ‘NO!’ at the top of my lungs. I left my coat behind and ran as fast as I could but by the time I reached the group they were scattered and yelling – the ice had started to crack under the small girl in the skates. She was in the middle of the pond, where ice is the weakest. I got down on my hands and knees, creeping along the ice, trying to spread my weight out over the ice, hoping to make it to her before it was too late. I could hear the sisters behind me yelling, but I don’t remember what they were saying. I only remember the sound of the creaking ice and the whimpers of the little girl.

I had to move slowly and deliberately and was able to make out the identity of the girl on the ice. My heart nearly stopped when I realized it was Ruth. I tried to move as fast as I could, but the ice underneath her gave way before I could reach her. I grabbed into the water frantically, putting my whole head and shoulders into the freezing water. It took my breath away, but I would not give up. After so many agonizing minutes, I found her hand and pulled her to the edge. I could barely move, but I managed to drag both of us close to the edge. At some point I stopped being able to move – it was so very, very cold! The ice continued to crack, loudly, around me. My eyelashes were frozen together and I couldn’t see. I didn’t know how far I was from the edge or how I could save either of us.

The cracking of the ice got louder and I thought we were both lost, when someone picked both of us up. I didn’t know who could have been strong enough to carry us both. I don’t remember anything after that, only waking up in the infirmary, cold and weak. I stayed there for weeks, first with hypothermia and then with influenza. It wasn’t like the influenza that caused so much panic when you were little, but I was sick for days. Ruth was in the infirmary too. She was so much weaker than I was. John was our constant companion. He was the one who had rescued us, crashing through the ice, wading up to his waist to drag us out. He was lucky enough not to catch the influenza.

I was on the way to recovering by the middle of February, but Ruth was not so lucky. She only got worse. After the sisters allowed me out of the infirmary, I visited her everyday and willed her to get better, but by the end of March I realized she was fading. I think John knew too. The sisters knew and let John out of work and me out of my studies to spend our days with Ruth. She passed away in April, a week after her eighth birthday.

I never saw Louisa after that day in December. She never visited us, even after the sisters lifted the quarantine. I heard that she was taken away; an uncle who had been living in India came for her. I often wonder how she felt about that day in December.

I don’t write this, Betsy, to make you sad. I write because I want you to know that sometimes getting what we want is not worth the costs. We can’t always know the consequences of our actions or imagine how our decisions will affect others. Sometimes not getting or doing what we want is better than getting our way. Often, it is the best thing for us.

Lastly, my dear, I want you to know that out of hard things can come good. Your mother was named after little Ruth, your grandfather John’s sister. Our family and all its current happiness grew out of the sorrow of losing Ruth.

Be happy and give your family my love. I wish the months would fly so that I can see you all again, but I will be patient and happy looking forward to our Christmas holidays. Study well and do your best in all you attempt.

With all my love,
Grandmother Agnes

Somewhere In Middle America

Matilda released a heavy sigh as she sunk back into the padded seat. Despite not being able to afford a sleeping berth, she remembered little of what had passed since the train pulled out of Indianapolis. The exhaustion that had accumulated over the past six months, when coupled with the rhythm of the wheels and the gentle hum of the diesel engine, was far more powerful than the small inconvenience of sitting in the passenger car. Again Matilda exhaled deeply and looked out the window at the passing landscape.

The flat, dusty scene informed her the train was traveling somewhere between Lincoln, Nebraska and Denver, Colorado, It had been nearly twenty hours since she hugged her father for the last time and boarded the train. Her valiant effort to conquer the lump in her throat and the welling tears had nearly been successful, only getting the better of her on the stairs into the car. She had managed to hide them by the time she found her seat and waved to him from the train. He looked so small and lonely on the platform, not like the father she remembered. Just thinking of him, standing so forlornly, made the tears well again. Thankfully, there was no one in the seat next to her so no one noticed the few she allowed to escape. She brushed them away, arguing to herself that Amelia and George would take care of him, make sure he ate and slept, and ensure he didn’t spend too much time alone.

Matilda fidgeted with her wedding ring and thought of John. He should have come for the funeral. Money was tight; it had been tight since they married. Their marriage had coincided with the Crash, but they had always managed, somehow. They had managed to scrape enough together to return to Indiana last Christmas to visit their families. He had agreed that Matilda had needed to stay with her family these past months, in fact he had insisted when they were confronted with the reality of her mother’s illness. Matilda continued to worry her ring, using her thumb to spin it in repetitive circles as she stared at the passing countryside, the flat former fields of Nebraska slowly giving way to the foothills of Colorado. She didn’t see any of it.

Matilda’s mind moved over the events of the last six months, starting with the startling sight of her emaciated and haggard mother. She had confronted her father about it in the library.

“She didn’t want to worry you,” her father said, fatigue filling his voice. “She wants this Christmas to be special. It’s been years since we were all together.”

“I know, I’m sorry about that. But, Dad, what is going on? I have a right to know!”

“This summer she started feeling tired, but just thought it was her age. She lost her appetite and then the pain started in the fall. She saw a specialist in Indianapolis in October and he diagnosed it as cancer.” Her father had closed his eyes during this recitation and was now rubbing the bridge of his nose while he spoke, as if he could somehow rub out the events themselves.

“Did he recommend anything? Has anything been done?” Matilda’s mind raced, consumed with accommodating this new information.

“There’s nothing to be done. A surgery in November only delayed things. Right now all your mother wants is to enjoy the time she has left.”

Matilda sat silently, staring at the floor, adjusting under the weight of this new burden. She looked at her father; he looked tired and strained.

“How long?” she asked.

“Six months. Nine if we are lucky.”

All she could do was nod. There was a knock on the library door.

“Dinner,” announced John, as his head appeared around the door.

Matilda had tried to be bright and cheerful during dinner, but John had noticed something was wrong. As she told John about her conversation with her father, John wrapped her in his comforting hug and said, simply,

“You have to stay.”

So she had.

John, of course, had to return to California. He had a steady job, a rarity in 1938, and they had rent to pay. Matilda was so wrapped up in caring for her mother and father; she barely noticed the widening gap between John’s letters or the tinges of anger or bitterness that showed in them when they finally arrived. In March she got a letter saying he had been laid off. Not an unusual occurrence in their nearly nine years of marriage, but John reacted differently. He kept reference someone named Henderson, a radical it seemed, A month ago, in May, Matilda received a letter announcing John’s intention to leave ‘the sunburnt wasteland of California’ to join the workers of Seattle. Henderson had already left for Seattle.

So, the new address in Seattle was where Matilda sent the telegram two weeks ago informing John of her mother’s death. Seattle was where the long distance call came from when John explained that because of the move he had no money to come for the funeral. And Seattle was what awaited Matilda at the end of her three-day odyssey. Beyond that, nothing was certain.

Things That Were Great About This Weekend

2010-03-21T21:57:00.000-07:00

No homework assignments hanging over my head.
I declared Saturday a 'no phone' day and enjoyed a blissful, solitary day.
My brother, sister-in-law, and niece came up on Friday.
My niece knows my name and can call me by it.
We chased ducks at Lake Padden and I taught my niece to say "Quack, Quack" which she now says when she sees ducks.
All of the above makes it that much easier if I need to go down to Seattle and watch Bug when Niece #2 arrives in June.
My room is clean and I filed all the assorted paperwork that has been piling up since September.
With both roommates staying with family, I woke up to a house in the exact state that I left it, which was clean. There is something life-affirming about waking up to a clean kitchen on Sunday morning.
Catching up on TV shows is the perfect thing to accompany filing endless piles of paperwork. Although I have many thoughts on the direction they are taking Chuck and not all of them are pleasant.
I still have a whole week of Spring Break ahead of me in which I can accomplish more things that I never have time for during quarters, like re-potting plants and finishing gifts for friends and ironing. And sleeping. Oh, how I love the sleeping!
After spending a large part of the weekend immersed in the worlds of Jeeves and Wooster and Lord Peter Wimsey, I really wish I had a gentlemen's gentlemen despite the fact that I am not a well-to-do gentlemen living in London in the 20s or 30s. They just seem so useful, doing all the chores one doesn't want to do. Especially if one is busy solving mysteries or frequenting jazz clubs.

A Stroke of Genius

2010-03-19T19:11:00.000-07:00

Since school ended, I have had a bit of time on my hands which I have spent watching all the television and movies I didn't have time for during the last quarter. Lately I have been watching A Bit of Fry and Laurie and subsequently had a stroke of genius the other morning as I was lazily lying in bed. There have been rumours of a remake of My Fair Lady with various people attached to it. Well, wouldn't the travesty of remaking My Fair Lady be somewhat mitigated if Hugh Laurie was cast as Prof. Henry Higgins and Stephen Fry as Colonel Pickering? Can't you just see it?

And This Might Get Me To Go To Bed Early

2010-02-19T19:39:00.000-08:00

It must be the week of mellifluous British voices, because I found a nice, soothing way to get ready to sleep - the BBC's Bedtime Story series. Below is a link to one read by David Tennant, but there are also some with Richard Armitage and Rupert Penry-Jones. Enjoy!

If only I could get this as a podcast!

I Might Not Hit Snooze If I Had This Alarm Clock

2010-02-16T22:49:00.000-08:00

I'm currently on a bit of a Jeeves & Wooster binge at the moment and came across this wonderful alarm clock. It wakes you up with the sound of Stephen Fry wishing you "Good Morning." How brilliant is that?

The Review I Promised On Facebook, Even Though A Lot Of It Is About Me

2010-02-10T01:01:00.000-08:00

Often reviews become more about the reviewer than about what is being reviewed, possibly because a review is based in the individual’s response to the work. This review of The New York Regional Mormon Singles Halloween Dance by Elna Baker is one of those. I can’t find a way to separate my thoughts about the book from my thoughts about me. So I apologize in advance, since I’m sure you came looking for my opinions about the book and are probably going to end up with a long, self-referential collection of random thoughts.

First and foremost, Ms. Baker is an excellent storyteller. If you haven’t heard them before, go straight to her website and listen to “The Fortune Cookie Story” and “Babies Buying Babies.” The former had me laughing so hard I cried and I fully intend on making my future students read and/or listen to the latter. In fact, I think every person in the United States should read/listen to “Babies Buying Babies” but I won’t tell you why, since that would kind of ruin the impact of the story. Anyway, storytelling is one of Ms. Baker’s strengths and it is apparent in her memoir. She weaves together past and present, childhood and adulthood together quite effectively. She engages the reader (i.e. me) with a voice that is simultaneously familiar and unique. If you are looking for a collection of well-crafted stories, you’ll enjoy this book.

I enjoyed this book, but it also made me a little uneasy. It took me a while to pinpoint the source, partly because I always experience a bit of general discomfort when reading memoirs – in the entering and exploring of a different life and way of thinking. More than that, however, was the fact that she was discussing our shared religion very openly and frankly on a national stage. I am a little sensitive about the pressure that comes with being part of the LDS faith. Not overly sensitive – I generally dismiss pop culture references and actually liked the storyline with the LDS character on House (although I sincerely wish that writers would do actual research about the religion and the Church before writing). But I do have issues with individuals who talk about being LDS and then act in a way that is completely opposite to the doctrines of the religion, like that girl on The Real World lo those many years ago (was it really 10? How time flies!). Ms. Baker’s memoir falls somewhere in between. I can respect that someone struggles with his or her faith and with aspects of a religion’s cultural traditions that can, at times, seem oppressive. But I also can’t deny there isn’t a part of me that wishes Ms. Baker hadn’t been quite so open and frank about her struggle. Obviously I don’t want to promote a false image of perfection or mindless compliance, but there is that moment of cringing every so often when I think about how a reader unfamiliar with our religion and faith will interpret what he or she is reading. Mostly because I don’t know how I’m interpreting what I’m reading. There is plenty to consider in Ms. Baker’s book, but here is what struck me the most.

Possibility v. the Unknown

Early in the book, Ms. Baker says she enjoys the feeling of unlimited possibility, the liminal moment before possibility becomes hard reality and wishes it could last. My exact thought was, “Is she insane?” For me, that moment is my own personal version of Hell and any extension of that moment is torturous. What Ms. Baker calls unlimited possibility I call the excruciating unknown. Me, I like knowing. The unknown is filled in, by my overactive (and apparently pessimistic) imagination, with an increasingly disturbing array of possible worst-case scenarios that seem increasingly probable as the time spent in the unknown stretches. This is why I still don’t sleep the night before the first day of every term, even after a cumulative 19.5 years of schooling. It is why every non-routine day is fraught with unwarranted anxiety and why I am a control freak. Ms. Baker is the precise opposite. She prefers the excitement of not knowing, of the adventure and thrill of something not quite real yet. She likes spontaneous decisions, unpremeditated action, and the ability to say “Yes!” to anything and everything. Something I see as a major part of her struggle with faith, religion, and being LDS in general.

Faith and Choice

Ms. Baker outlines her struggles with religion and faith starting at an early age. She waited to get baptized because she didn’t want to do something just because everyone her age was doing it and she was being told she should. She waited, she contemplated, she decided for herself. I think that is admirable in an 8 year-old. However, in reading subsequent stories I found myself wondering if maybe it wasn’t so much that she struggled with her faith, but that she struggled with being told she had to choose. Faith is a choice and inherent in making a choice is that in choosing one limits one’s possibilities. Even making good choices limits possibility. Inherent in every “Yes” that Ms. Baker enjoys saying, there is an infinite number of “Nos.” I get the feeling that is a reality she doesn’t want to face, leading her to face each choice as a brand new one, something you can’t always do in light of previous decisions, at least not if you want to stay sane. Remaking the same decision, or reconsidering the evidence each and every time you are presented with a choice is maddening. It leads to questioning and reexamining every previous choice made in a never-ending loop. Ms. Baker’s main question seems to be whether she wants to follow her faith, a question that inevitably leads to questioning if she even has it. Faith is simultaneously a thing, an action, and a choice but under constant examination it becomes static, stuck in one state at a time, much like light – it behaves as both a particle and a wave but you can’t observe it being both at once. You can only observe it being one or the other (I hope I have that right – any physicist readers out there?) and in the act of observation it becomes less than it actually is. Sometimes, for faith to get stronger, you have to stop examining it and just let it exist in all three states in your life as you move forward in the path you already chose.

Being a Singleton in a Married Church

I understand that staying in that chosen path can be hard when it occasionally makes you feel like an outsider. I’m 31 and unmarried and a member of a religion that stresses the absolute importance of marriage and family. Not just because it is good but because it is necessary for eternal salvation, for eternal joy, for perfection. Being the person stuck on the outside of that can be mentally, emotionally, and spiritually draining. I get that. I’ve attended Young Single Adult wards for over a decade – I know the crazy that goes on in them. Any woman who has spent anytime in one will recognize the girls Ms. Baker call “the Amber Cunninghams” (to any Bridget Jones fans who are reading, they are the YSA ward equivalent of Rebecca the Jellyfish with the added weapon of ‘spiritual superiority’). But all of that combined doesn’t make me question my faith. Being single isn’t something I need to fix STAT, regardless of how I fix it. I remember having a conversation, at least 4 years ago, with 2 dear friends. We have been friends since junior high, so I hope they don’t mind me sharing this story (not that I’ll be naming names or anything). Anyway, one friend asked if I and our other friend would choose to stay single if the only opportunity we had to get married was to a man not of our faith, and therefore ineligible for a temple marriage. We both said we would opt to stay single. She thought differently, and we were all equally adamant about our reasons for our separate decisions (ironically she married, in the temple, shortly thereafter while we remain single). I made that decision a long time ago and that means, regardless of how hard it is to be LDS and single at my age, I’m going to stay that way if what I want doesn’t come along. Yes, it will be difficult and occasionally lonely but I know what I want and I know what will make me happy. I can’t constantly be re-evaluating, no matter what changes occur.

Weight

One of the things that seems to have brought Ms. Baker’s struggle to a head is her dramatic weight loss. In her memoir she discusses her body issues in detail. I think most women would find something familiar in Ms. Baker’s attempt to both accept and control how her body looks. In doing so, she eventually lost 80 lbs., going from a size 18/20 to a size 4/6. I have no idea what this is like. I have always been on the large side and I have the body image issues to go with it (and by using that phrase ‘on the large side’ instead of ‘overweight’ or ‘unhealthy’ it would appear I don’t want to face the reality of it). I haven’t ever been able to take the initiative like Ms. Baker and work adamantly toward change. I don’t know if I could. What I do know is that it would totally mess with my sense if identity, as it did for Ms. Baker. What would it suddenly be like to operate in that world? I would feel like an interloper and a fraud. It would also be exhilarating, like infiltrating enemy territory. Shopping would no longer be an activity saved for days of exceptional mental well-being, but rather a celebration. Ms. Baker tangentially discusses this, but the real discussion of the impact of her weight-loss is focused on her relationships with members of the opposite sex.

Boys

Ms. Baker’s interactions with members of the opposite sex didn’t seem to really take off until after her weight loss had begun. She describes it as a new and exciting frontier and experiments with it with abandon. These are the stories that really got my eyebrow raised, mostly because her exhilaration at this new life, coupled with her life-long love of possibility and the word yes, lead her to make choices I don’t understand and don’t know that I would ever make. I can’t say for certain since a) I have never lost 80 lbs. and b) I have never, ever been in a relationship or even been close to being so. In the 15 years since I turned 16, I have been on only a handful of dates, most of which occurred in high school. I am the girl who stayed home on Friday nights, the one who watched her roommates fall in and out of relationships, who listened to their ups and downs, who attended dozens of weddings and whose heart broke a little each time. That is who I am. So I guess I understand how sudden interest by attractive, and previously unattainable, members of the opposite sex could inspire one to giddily accept all that attention. What I don’t understand is how easily her acceptance of that attention equates to varying levels of physical intimacy (but then again I don’t have any experience with that either).

Sex

It becomes readily apparent early in the book that sex is a major contributor to Ms. Baker’s struggle with her faith. If you aren’t comfortable with frank and candid discussions about sex you definitely aren't going to be comfortable with this book. The main conflict in the memoir is between what Ms. Baker has believed all her life and what she really wants to do, which is have a relationship with the man she feels is her soul mate; a man who happens to be an atheist. He doesn’t share Ms. Baker’s belief in God, in waiting for marriage to have sex, or in the idea that such a relationship could work. He does respect her and her beliefs enough to take himself out of the equation, to act as the voice of reason when Ms. Baker is the most torn and the least sure about what exactly she believes. He seems to be aware that sex isn’t the only thing keeping them apart, something she didn’t seem to be aware of for most of their story. I kind of despaired of her ever grasping that point until the final pages of the book. There seemed to be a glimmer of hope at the end; that maybe Ms. Baker was starting to get a clearer, less confused vision of her life. But then I read an article she wrote for Glamour (I wouldn't follow that link if you are in any way uncomfortable with this part of the discussion), apparently as part of the promotion of the book, which seemed to suggest that maybe she hadn't. Maybe it is because I'm a bit prudish, maybe it is a corollary of my calling as a Relief Society President, or maybe it is something I just know, but the Law of Chastity is a) not just about sex and b) not to be trifled with. And what I read makes me worry that maybe Ms. Baker hasn't quite grasped that completely.

Truth

I really wanted to like this book and I really wanted to like Ms. Baker. There are few funny, authentic voices out there with which single, LDS girls of a certain age can identify. Ultimately, I liked the book, with reservations, but I spent the majority of the second half of it wanting to shake Ms. Baker. That diminished somewhat in those final pages of self-examination. What was apparent to me, as the reader, for most of the book (and what appeared to becoming apparent to Ms. Baker by the end) was that she wanted to live two lives, to have her faith and experience everything she was offered. The world doesn’t work that way. At some point you have to grow up and choose. Regardless of which life you choose, you have to leave the other life behind. Accepting that fact is part of maturing, making sacrifices (no matter what you are sacrificing) is part of growing up. No one likes it, but we have to do it. I really hope Ms. Baker finds a way to make that choice, to make it willingly and whole-heartedly and without reservation. Basically I hope she finds a way to be happy. And I hope when she does, she writes another book about it because even if I don’t agree with her half the time it is some of the the most thought-provoking writing I’ve read in a while.

I Have Been Reduced To Tears, But In A Good Way

2010-01-28T22:03:00.000-08:00

For the past little while I have felt a bit invisible, that people aren't seeing or hearing me. Sometimes it is because a professor seems to purposely misunderstand my comments in class or because the world of my ward seems to move in an orbit that I don't quite occupy or because sometimes when people call me to see how I'm doing we end up talking more about them or sometimes it is quite literal, like when the man in the truck pulled out right in front of me despite looking right at me. So I have been feeling a little neglected. Part of it is my own fault, I tend to operate in some sort of guilt-ridden caretaker mode in which everyone's need seem to be more important than my own and I don't realize how much I have alienated the people who try to take care of me. My mom was one of the few people who could force me to let her take care of me. I also tend to keep things to myself, to let the storm rage in my head while I put up a facade of calm. But, regardless of the source, I have felt invisible. I was feeling tired and a little put upon after a long day of running from 7:30 in the morning until I got home at 9 tonight. I walked in the door and noticed an unopened boxed set of DVDs of a British television series I love but only told, maybe, two people in Bellingham that I love it. I asked my roommate about them and she told me they had been dropped off, for me, by a family we know, a family who probably has as a tight a budget as I do if not tighter, with the simple explanation that they were for me because I deserved them. I haven't called to thank them yet, partly because it is late and partly because every time I think about it I start to cry. I don't know if I'll ever be able to tell them how much their gift means to me. It is just like something my mom used to do.

Perhaps It Is Time To Return To Reality

2010-01-05T21:45:00.000-08:00

The past 3 weeks have been pretty luxurious, what with waking up when I want sans alarm and doing pretty much whatever I want whenever I want. I was not looking forward to the return of responsibility and school and church and reality in general. But something happened the other day that made me think that maybe I was wrong. I was taking a few Christmas decorations that I had forgotten during the first round of un-decorating over to my storage unit (yes, I have that much crap that seems totally necessary to keep). After safely storing them, I realized I was walking rather quickly down the hallway of variously-sized units and it took me a few steps to explain to myself why, mainly that it was kind of a creepy place to be by oneself. While mulling over how it seemed right out of say, The Twilight Zone or The X-Files or Doctor Who, I said, out loud to myself, "But I wouldn't want to travel with the Doctor wearing this!" Yeah, I think reality has arrived just in time.

RIP Ten

Year In Review

2009-12-31T21:11:00.000-08:00

I have been sadly remiss in my posting duties this year and I have been feeling slightly guilty about it since this is the closest thing I have to a journal. So I thought a quick review of the year was in order, which once started illuminated precisely why I didn't get to blogging much.

January

January started with a cancelled flight or two that led straight into a 17 credit term. That is pretty much all I remember.

February

February was the month I got the death flu during midterms. It was also the month that my dad announced his intention to get remarried and I was called to be the Relief Society President. But really, all that happened in the same week in February.

March

In March I survived a second term and celebrated by going to the Woodland Park Zoo and a Sounders game with my brother's family. The celebration was short lived, as I was in a car accident the next morning, which ended with my car totaled and me staying in Seattle for a few more days than planned. Thankfully, I have a wonderful brother and sister-in-law who took great care of me! And shortly thereafter I started another term, only taking 13 credits this time. Finally, I met my future stepmother when she flew up for a weekend.

April

I got a new car in April but had to fly to Utah in order to drive it back. I also got to spend time teaching the book Tuck Everlasting to a fantastic group of 6th graders. And spring came to Bellingham, which meant sunnier days and the planning of adventures.

May

In May I started exploring around Bellingham and visited great places like Larrabee Park and Teddy Bear cove as well as surviving another round of midterms.

June

After another round of finals, I flew to Arizona for my dad's wedding and met my new step-siblings. I also started yet another term, the summer term that had classes everyday for hours and hours. It was completely exhausting and I couldn't wait for it to be over.

July

School ended in July, for a whole month and a half. So I decided it would be a perfect time to plan a move and start packing up my life. I also chopped off all my hair.

August

I spent most of the month packing and cleaning. It is amazing how much stuff one can collect in such a short amount of time. The reward at the end of all the packing and the moving and the cleaning was my trip to California to spend time with my aunt's family and then nanny her son, the Peanut, while she went to Scotland.

September

I spent fun weeks in California and came home to a house all put to order by my wonderful, wonderful roommate. My bed was up and made and such a nice relief since I had to start another term of school.

October

I turned 31 and got another round of the death flu, although I don't think it was in quite that order. To be honest, October was pretty much a blur surrounding a couple of moments of severe doubt about my ability to survive school and/or teaching. Zeros on two totally different assignments in two totally different classes can do that to a person.

November

The month was more blurriness punctuated by stress. Thanksgiving was a nice, albeit short, break to collect my thoughts. I got to see my dad and stepmom's new, if temporary, house.

December

One more week of finals, the conclusion of a term in which I had to pull more all-nighters than ever in the whole of my college career. After school ended, I was able to catch up on Doctor Who, punctuated by a mini-marathon of the recent specials the day after Christmas.

That was my 2009, a year full of major events and lots of hard work. And, frankly, I'm completely exhausted. So my New Year's Eve plans consist of staying at home in my yoga pants having my very own monster Doctor Who marathon whilst consuming unholy amounts of junk food. Hope you are all spending New Year's Eve the way you want!

"Maybe one of these days you'll find a way to create teachable moments without ruining my life."*

2009-12-19T17:34:00.000-08:00

I was in the middle of cleaning my room (and by 'in the middle' I mean moving 3 months worth of stuff from my bedroom floor to my bed) when I decided, in a patented Scully procrastination move, I needed to write a post. And that decision led to a 30 minute search for a Glee quote that could sum up my life. Glee has been one of the few bright spots this fall, as most of it is a blur of homework and school work. And, as I found out when I checked my grades, I was actually taking 17 credits not 16 like I thought. So I was working extra hard for a class that was 4 credits because it wasn't, it was 5 credits. Anyway, the class was arduous for two reasons, the first being it was a 5 credit history class, which meant massive amounts of reading, and second, it was full of people required to take the class to get endorsed to teach history in Washington state, but the professor taught it to train people to be historiographers. Not the same thing at all. So all the work seemed to be for naught and requiring skills I did not have nor would I use again. But I survived and am only slightly discomfited by the B+ I ended up with.

In other news, I finished Christmas shopping and now only a trip to the post office stands between me and true holiday celebrating. And of course cleaning my room. That should definitely be done before I want to go to bed.

My Disappearing Act

2009-11-08T19:00:00.000-08:00

It was pointed out to me the other day that I haven't posted here for a month and a half. Which is completely not like me. Since I started this blog 4 years ago, I haven't been absent for such long periods of time. The first reason is that between graduate school and being the Relief Society President I don't have a lot of time, period. The second reason being that this term is kicking my trash. Despite taking fewer credits and not having a practicum I can barely keep up. I'm taking two history classes for my actual endorsement and they have 100+ pages of reading a week. On top of that are my Assessment and Social Studies Methods classes which require me to create unit and lesson plans, which is by far the most difficult task I have faced so far in the program, especially the part where I have to do it without a set a curriculum to base them on. And on top of all of that are all the various responsibilities of my calling. And the fact that my classes are quite spread out, meaning I don't have large chunks of time to settle into homework, only an hour here or there during the day. Which means I probably won't be back for another month and a half until finals are over and I am free for three weeks. I hope all your lives are less stressful and more fun! See you in December.

What's Been Going On In My Mind

2009-09-15T16:59:00.001-07:00

I have been busy moving and nannying the Peanut so I haven't had much time to blog, but I thought I could jot down some thoughts since the Peanut is taking a nap.

Three things I now consider luxuries:

Taking a shower or going to the loo without a toddler or canine audience.
Not having to share my food with anyone. Especially with those who refuse to eat their own.
Living on my own internal schedule, not someone else's.

Three things I will need to consider before I get married and have children:

Silencing the Martyrdom gene I inherited from my mother that runs rampant in the women on that side of the family and which tells us that we basically have to throw ourselves on the pyre and that if things aren't going well it is because we just aren't doing enough.
I might be the meanest mother in town. Possibly the world.
Tantrums and PMS will undoubtedly coincide, but there has to be a way for them to do so non-violently.

Three things I have learned while nannying a 17 month-old:

If a child decides to throw a tantrum and is not in a position to injure themselves I will just let them throw it. Unless we are in public.
I hope I have children who are early verbalizers, because I hate guessing and the inevitable tantrums that come from guessing wrong.
My future husband and I are going to have a long and involved discussion about responsibilities and rules and expectations so that we each know explicitly what the other is thinking about raising a child before the actual wedding.

Three things I will definitely miss when this gig is done:

The sweet little kiss the Peanut gives when we are singing before bedtime. Usually right before he falls asleep on my shoulder.
The hugs he requires after a tantrum, even if I'm the reason for the tantrum.
His total glee at all he sees in the world. He is excited by every car or truck, every dog, every little lizard we see in the yard, every new thing he sees. It makes me excited.

Feeling Smugly Proud of Myself

2009-08-15T14:13:00.000-07:00

I successfully replaced the toilet seat in my bathroom today. While it is a very simple procedure, that does not negate the fact that it makes me feel I will one day be able to make it as a homeowner. Now I just need to get a steady income.

Moments of Truth

2009-08-06T23:37:00.000-07:00

Ever have those moments in which something random, from a film or song or story hits you with impressive and inordinate force? Maybe it is just me, but I was watching Last Chance Harvey (which is marvelous and should be required watching for anyone who enjoys Emma Thompson or Dustin Hoffman) and Emma's character Kate says "You see, what I think it is, is . . . is I think that I’m more comfortable with being disappointed." This line almost made me cry. I am, especially in matters of men, dating, relationships, etc., very much more comfortable being disappointed. It is much safer than getting one's hopes up. Which seems a very sad way to live one's life, however many times one has previously been disappointed or had one's hopes dashed. It has given me something to ponder. Any thoughts?

End Result

2009-07-16T21:15:00.000-07:00

I took the plunge and called my stylist today - she had an appointment open this evening and by 8 o'clock I was walking out of the salon feeling like a million dollars. I LOVE my new hair. It feels wonderful and is fun and youthful and makes my glasses look cooler and makes me feel less dowdy. Behold:

I do apologize for the hasty, camera-timer, poor lighting pictures. I'm a little excited. All I can say is "Yay!"

Highly Probably Outcome

2009-07-14T23:06:00.000-07:00

So, I am feeling restless and adventurous and like I want to take a risk. My personal life doesn't really afford much in the way of adventure or risk-taking right now. Writing blog posts late on a Tuesday night seems to be about as crazy as it gets. Not that I'm really complaining - stability is a good thing. However, something needs to change. Which means I have been seriously toying with the idea of chopping my hair. It is really only chin length right now, so by chop I mean a few more inches. I have had it very short before, but not for quite some time. So I would like your opinions. Or at least hoping that if it is a really bad idea a voice of sanity will reach through the internets and virtually slap some sense into me. But first I should show you what I am thinking.

Above is the old standby of hair risk I have never quite been brave enough to demand. I have tried once or twice and been convinced by stylists that perhaps I should go with something slightly different, i.e. not so bold, short, or made for a face like Gwyneth Paltrow's. I understand their hesitancy because I obviously have a very different face, but they needn't have feared any retribution on my part if I ended up not liking it. Hair grows, I don't care that much, it is just hair, etc. Then I watched an Audrey Hepburn movie called How to Steal a Million which is worth watching just for a yummy, young Peter O'Toole and Hepburn's Givenchy wardrobe. But it also made me realize I really want to cut my hair.

I am a bit obsessed with her hair right here. I don't have an Audrey Hepburn face either, so I'm sure my stylist would balk, but I really do adore the short, faux-beehiveness of it all. Am I crazy? Here are some other angles:

Any opinions? I won't be able to make an appointment for a few days, so feel free to let me know what you think, dear readers. Although, it is a highly probably outcome. And if you want to see the hair in action, How to Steal a Million is streaming on Netflix.

Edited to Add: This is the current state of my hair. Just thought that might help with the opinion-making.

What A Difference A Week Makes

2009-07-07T21:10:00.000-07:00

First of all, thank you to you all for your wonderful thoughts, prayers, cards, calls, good wishes etc.! I was at a personal nadir, and it helped to know there were people out there who care. I did do what ZB suggested and it feels like a load has been taken off of me. I still have a lot of responsibility and a lot of demands on my time, but some of the things that have been haunting me for the past couple of years have diminished. Part of it was just saying it (or rather publishing it) out loud. And I took some time to do things that make me happy. Like turn off my cell phone and read a book that has nothing to do with school or church or anything but my love of mystery novels set in England. I downloaded some music. I played. And I feel better.

Some of the things I enjoyed:

Reading the incredible Doctor Who recaps in the archives at Television Without Pity. They have some incredible writing and make me want to re-watch the show starting with the Pilot looking for all the things I totally missed.
The return of the rain and the end of the sunshine. I like that it hasn't gotten over 65 degrees for the past 3 days.
Showing off the Bellingham area to my awesome family.

The album 19 by Adele, specifically the song "Hometown Glory."
Ghirardelli Triple Chocolate Brownie mix.
Fireworks.

Again, thanks for everyone's care and support - I appreciate it!

Existential Exhaustion

2009-06-30T22:36:00.000-07:00

Here is the thing; I am tired.

Like, bone-deep exhaustion tired. I am tired of being dependable.

Tired of being someone who takes on all the responsibility for things, even when other people offer, tired of the accompanying guilt when I falter under the weight of that responsibility, or when I allow people to take one some of that responsibility and they struggle.

I am tired of being seen as dependable and smart and, therefore, intimidating.

I am tired, so existentially tired, of being constrained by other’s conceptions of who I am, of what I am, of who I should be.

I am tired of keeping all my crazy, less-than-dependable, less-than-nice thoughts to myself.

I am tired of being alone, of being the person that people depend on and the dull, endless ache of missing the one person I could always depend on, who would always be there for me.

I am tired of the guilt of feeling I somehow failed her, the stupid, ridiculous guilt of thinking I somehow should have been able to save her or to at least make it not so hard, not so painful, not so ugly and awful.

I am tired of being so consumed with my own pain that I don’t have the energy to get to know all the women I am now responsible for.

I am tired of not knowing how to help myself and thus unable to help them.

I am tired of feeling like every part of my life that truly matters is one epic failure after another.

I am tired of lying in bed not being able to sleep because my brain is full of worry and fear.

I am tired of waking up exhausted, of falling asleep in the middle of the day and having vampire dreams.

I am tired of being intimidated by life, by the unknown, by the idea that I am set up to fail.

I am tired of not being the girl I remember, the girl who would spin around in her Wonder Woman Underoos thinking she could conquer the world. The girl who could confidently pose in her Teela and She-Ra costumes and mean it. The girl who didn’t yet know that when people told her she was smart and strong and responsible it wasn’t a compliment; it was a sentence to being given more work, more responsibility, more to do. The girl who hadn’t yet realized that Wonder Woman and Teela and She-Ra and all the smart, confident, strong women she loved to pretend to be were alone, left to save their worlds by themselves. That such women were branded ‘intimidating’ and to have any sort of life outside their strong, confident, world-saving selves had to create cover identities in which they pretended to be less-than and that only then would they have friends, but not really because they weren’t who they really were. They were who people wanted them to be.

I am tired of not knowing how to be that girl anymore, of saying yes when I desperately want to say no and saying no when I should say yes.

I am tired of putting off finding how to be that girl.

So I am going to take some time to myself, to figure out things I should have figured out a long time ago. Which means I might not be around for a while and I might not answer phone calls and I might not be the person you are used to.

But I’ll be fine. Because I am always fine.

When I Do Not Want To Do Homework Anymore

2009-06-29T21:52:00.000-07:00

I end up wasting time on YouTube when I should be sleeping. This is one I just found, which I very much enjoyed. Be warned, PG-13 thanks to a bit from Northanger Abbey.

Curiouser and Curiouser

2009-06-25T16:03:00.000-07:00

I am so very much looking forward to the insanity abounding in Tim Burton's Alice In Wonderland. Check out the article in USA Today.

Blergh

2009-06-16T21:42:00.000-07:00

This is the week between terms, which I thought would be relaxing and open and I could just spend it doing whatever I wished. Boy, was I wrong. Between my inability to say no to things that are asked of me and the inexplicable way everyone has chosen Thursday as the night to hold events I feel I should go to and the fact I have yet to hear from the Financial Aid office as to whether I will even be able to afford to go summer term I am exceedingly grumpy. What I really want to do is spend my time hiding out from responsibility and demands alike in my apartment. Alas, that is not to be. To which I say BLERGH!

Guitar Hero

2009-06-10T19:52:00.000-07:00

Add it to the list of things that make me curse.

This Is What I Have Time For

2009-05-14T23:02:00.001-07:00

I know I have abandoned you, dear readers, these many weeks but I have been very, very busy. I do have a new car, which I should get a picture of, and my citation got deferred. If I can keep my driving record clean for the next year, I will be in the clear. Yay! Since I should really be reading a book I have to discuss tomorrow in a history class, I'm just going to post a few pictures to give you a look at what I have been up to lately. I promise I will be back soon, but this term, despite fewer credits, takes up way more time!

The Experience Music Project in Seattle

The Bug, getting ready to crawl

A poster in the women's restroom at The Science Fiction Museum in Seattle

The ward 50s/60s Sock Hop

The view from Larrabee State Park

One of the bright purple starfish you can find in the tide pools at Larrabee State Park

Flower Child and I enjoying the sun at Larrabee State Park one Friday afternoon

Another view from the park

Did I Really Sign Up For This?

2009-03-23T15:44:00.001-07:00

Sometimes I wonder. After a crazy term filled with stress from school and church callings and family drama, I was looking forward to a nice, relaxing break. Thursday was to be the big kick-off to Spring Break. I drove down Thursday morning to spend the day with Mime, Mrs. Mime, and Bug. We went to the Woodland Park Zoo, which was fun. Sadly both Mrs. Mime and I forgot our cameras, which meant we couldn't get pictures of the adorable baby gorilla who was impatiently waiting for her mom to wake up from a nap and play. Then Mime and I went to the opening game of the MLS season, in which the new expansion team the Seattle Sounders took on the New York Red Bulls (any guesses on their main sponsor?). Seattle won 3-0, which was awesome and exciting. Just look at our faces:

Being the sensible person I am, I decided to stay the night at Mime's rather than drive home late at night with possibly a lot of traffic. So Friday at 9 I hit the road. Friday at 9:15 I collided with another car. Not good. Thankfully, no one was injured. BUT my dear little car was damaged beyond repair (at least, beyond being worth repairing). So I am now a bus rider for the foreseeable future. Mime and Mrs. Mime were wonderful and insisted I stay until Saturday, as they didn't think it would be good for me to be left alone in Bellingham after such an event. So we went to the zoo again (in between calls with insurance companies, of course) and this time Mrs. Mime remembered her camera. Yay!

The giraffes were hiding out in their barn, but we caught one on film anyway! Bug was not in a good mood Friday AND the baby gorilla did not make a repeat appearance, which made Mrs. Mime and I doubly sad we forgot our cameras on Thursday! The only pic we could get was of the daddy gorilla's rear end. He was unimpressed with the zoo patrons.

We overheard two zoo employees talking while we were at the hippo pond. Apparently that is the 2nd most dangerous section of the zoo AND they once found some dad dangling his child in a stroller (!) over the guardrail. Why are people like that allowed to procreate? Here we fit all 4 of our hands in a cast of a hippo foot. Crazy!

Finally, we saw the orangutans, who were happily munching away, completely unaffected by the rows of curious faces. Bug was intrigued by the orangutan statues.

All-in-all it was an eventful weekend and even though there were some really un-fun moments, how could I not be okay when I got to snuggle with this cutie. When she would let me, that is.

Because My Life Revolves Around Homework

2009-03-07T12:33:00.000-08:00

I should be doing the mountain of assignments that need to be done at various points between this Monday and next Monday. And if not doing that, I should be taking care of the hill of Church stuff that always needs to be done. But I'm not because just thinking about it makes me want to take a nap. So I am going to give you adorable pictures to look at.

Bug (formerly known as The Gummi Bear)

My brother began calling his daughter Bug, and it has stuck, so I thought I would make the change too. I don't really know where 'Bug' came from, but she is as cute as one (cuter, actually) so it works. She is doing all sorts of adorable things these days and is on the brink of crawling. Which means I really should start baby-proofing my apartment. I'm trying to convince Mime and Mrs. Mime to let me take her for a night at the end of April so they can have some time away to celebrate their anniversary. Also, her hair makes the most adorable curly faux-hawk you have ever seen!

The Peanut

The Peanut is growing by leaps and bounds. He likes to chatter loudly in the background when his mom and I are on the phone, just to make sure we both know he is there. He also enjoys grabbing their Cavalier King Charles Spaniel, Clarence, whenever he gets close. Thankfully, Clarence is very patient! I might be biased, but I think the Peanut is very handsome. I am planning on going down in September to nanny for a week while his mom goes on a trip to Scotland - how awesome is that? I say very!

NOT. A. FAN.

2009-02-26T22:23:00.000-08:00

I attended a wedding reception this evening for two lovely and wonderful people who really love each other and are adorable and I wish them all the best because of all of the above. They really have nothing to do with this post other than their wedding reception was the setting for the subsequent stuff that sucks massively. So, I sat at a table with several friends, most of whom are single. One poor gentleman happens to be over 25 so everyone is on RED ALERT to get him married ASAP because obviously his singleton status is untenable to people only tangentially involved in his life. Pretty much every single person who stopped at our table to chat brought up the fact that a) he wasn't married and b) he needed to get on that STAT. Because apparently he wasn't aware of that fact already. It drives me insane when people cannot mind their own business and let people live their own lives. It finally annoyed me so that I politely (and loudly) thanked him for taking all the crap I usually get at weddings. It didn't help with the annoying people passing our table, but it did shut a few of the people up who were sitting at our table. Which was something.

Besides the fact that it is just rude to be so intrusive into an individual's personal life, is there any other situation in which people say such obnoxious things? I know people ask recently and not-so-recently married folks when they are planning to have children or if they are trying to have children (which is awful in and of itself) but the behavior I witnessed tonight was akin to people accosting a couple who are unable to have children and telling them that they needed to get themselves a child right away and implying that they should just walk down the street and pick-up the first one they see. THIS IS NOT OKAY! It isn't appropriate to say to a childless couple and it isn't okay to say to a single person. How have we become a society or culture that allows such intrusive, rude, and hurtful behavior? Why are extremely personal aspects of individual lives the fodder of public speculation and even mockery. And why, oh why, is it considered rude for said individual to do anything but sit there and take it or joke about it themselves? HAVE WE NO DECENCY?

So, Yeah II

2009-02-17T18:46:00.000-08:00

Remember this post from last year? About how I realized my dad would probably get remarried before I get a date? Well, I apparently have excellent intuition. My dad got engaged this weekend to a lovely woman who shall be known, until I can come up with a better alias, as Future StepMother or FSM for short. I'm sure this is coming as a shock to a few of you, as I haven't mentioned anything about it because I wasn't sure how much my dad wanted people to know, but as they have announced it on Facebook, I figure I can mention it here. It happened quickly and the wedding will be sometime this summer.

In other news I was sick this weekend and spent lots of time watching movies on Netflix. If you are a fan of Cary Grant I would suggest checking out The Bachelor and The Bobby-Soxer. I also watched Bella and have a new fantasy boyfriend, because the lead actor's eyes were simply hypnotic. Also, the movie is fantastic and I highly recommend it. To say much about it would kind of ruin it. So go experience it yourself and get back to me.

Recipe For A Perfect Single Valentine's Day

2009-02-15T15:15:00.000-08:00

A good night's sleep.
A service project that gets you out in the spring sunshine for a couple of hours.
Doing your taxes and finding out you are getting $1100 back this year.
A convert baptism into the ward.
A fantastic dinner made by Flower Child consisting of wild rice, mahi mahi, and steamed broccoli.
A pan of brownies made from the Ghirardelli Triple Chocolate mix you get at Costco.
Watching delightful romantic comedies that contain musical gems that induce giggles and inspire awesome dance moves like this:

I Should Be Paying Attention In Class But

2009-02-11T17:44:00.000-08:00

I had to share this awesome link from Romancing the Tome. Gave me a giggle!

So, Yeah.

2009-02-08T21:42:00.000-08:00

Heather guessed correctly on my last post. I am now the Relief Society President of my ward. Which is a full-time calling on top of a full class load and I'm a little freaked out about doing it all. But I do know the Lord will bless me and that this calling was inspired. I have been really blessed these past few years, even though they were the hardest years of my life and I know that He watches out for me and that He will provide a way for me to accomplish everything. However, it does mean I will have to dedicate my time to my calling and that I might not have a lot of time for my own personal pursuits. I might not be here as often as I would like, but I do plan on keeping this up as much as possible. I have several more crazy things going on in my life right now, but those stories will have to wait for a bit.

Radio Silence

2009-02-01T19:40:00.001-08:00

I apologize for being MIA. Some of it is school, some of it is other stuff that I'm not really in a position to talk about right now. None of it is bad, just stuff to do and deal with and figure out etc. So, yeah, I probably will be radio silent for at least another week.

How Did I Become The Conservative In The Room?

2009-01-20T19:12:00.000-08:00

Since I live in the heart of liberal Washington, most classes were cancelled so everyone could watch the inauguration. If you didn't get a chance to watch it, I highly recommend you follow this link to watch it at hulu.com. I was on campus at the Center for Education, Equity, and Diversity watching it with quite a few people from the Education department. After President Obama took the Oath of Office, half the people in the room breathed an audible sigh of relief and someone even said "We got our country back." This made me a little angry. We never 'lost' our country. We weren't invaded; our government wasn't overthrown. Yes, we had a government that overstepped its bounds, that pushed, if not exceeded, the limits of their power and mandate, that took a lot of actions with which a lot of people disagreed. It wasn't the place or time, but I was tempted to ask what exactly this person did to express their displeasure with the decision-making over the past 8 years. Did they contact their Congressional representatives? Did they write to the White House to make themselves heard? Did they get involved with movements or organizations to join their voices with others? I am guessing that they, like me, did nothing more than complain to like-minded individuals. I was against going into Iraq from the beginning, but all I did was complain loudly to people who would listen about why I thought it was a bad idea. I didn't write to my Congressional representatives, I didn't get involved with any movements or groups, I just sat around complaining. Which means I am just as culpable for the mess that we are in as those who supported the invasion. We didn't 'lose' our country to some enemy, we sat by and let a few people mold the country to fit their idea of what it should be. We haven't 'got our country back' either. We simply have an opportunity to learn from our mistakes and become actively involved in the shaping of our nation's future. I think that was what President Obama was saying today - we have to work to realize America's potential. We can't afford not to be actively involved in building the future of our nation. We are already paying the price of too many years of inactivity, self-involvement, and insularity. We can't sit back and expect anything to change if we aren't willing to work to make that change. President Obama can't change anything if we aren't willing to make our wishes, our ideas, our opinions known and aren't willing to work hard to make sure the best ideas and plans come to fruition. We have a willing President, now we need to be willing.

In Which I Weep For The Future

2009-01-11T19:11:00.001-08:00

I was grumpy Friday afternoon and in general not enjoying being back in school. So I succumbed to the months-long temptation to buy the Sleeping Beauty 50th Anniversary DVD whilst picking up necessities at Costco. While watching it with my friend, Flower Child, we happened upon an extra that rendered us speechless and not in a good way. I could write a rambling diatribe about why this makes me weep for the future, but I'm tired and still have many things to do this evening. Instead I will let you, dear readers, draw your own conclusions.

You Know You Are Old When

2009-01-03T11:21:00.000-08:00

. . . the actor chosen to be the 11th Doctor for Doctor Who is younger than you are. The Doctor should never be younger than I am! I'm sure the new actor will be great, but I think David Tennant will always be MY Doctor. Those obsessed with the show like I now am (Hi Saxon!) will surely understand this response to the passing of the torch. The rest of you probably have little to no idea what I am talking about.

Winter Can Bite Me

2009-01-02T14:58:00.000-08:00

Today I was supposed to fly back to Bellingham and start getting everything ready to start school on Tuesday. Unfortunately my second flight in a week was cancelled. NOT. A. FAN. Now my dad and I have drive back to the airport and try again tomorrow. Hopefully it will not be snowing in Seattle again and I can get home to my car, apartment and wonderful bed.

How I Would Recommend Spending New Year's Eve

2009-01-01T11:44:00.000-08:00

For Christmas I received a set that included Ocean's Eleven, Ocean's Twelve, and Ocean's Thirteen. My dad and I opted to have an Ocean's marathon for New Year's Eve. We took a quick break before midnight to watch the ball drop in Time's Square. I must say that being curled up in a warm blanket watching these movies, regardless of whether you prefer Brad Pitt, George Clooney, or Matt Damon, it is a great way to spend 6 hours on a cold winter's night. Hope you all had lovely evenings yourselves and are not too worn out by last night's festivities!

How I Would Not Recommend Spending Christmas Eve

2008-12-25T22:39:00.000-08:00

Watching a James Bond marathon on SPIKETV in a 2-star Travelodge motel where the pillows feel like sandbags.

Yippee!

2008-12-23T15:49:00.000-08:00

In all my hibernation-induced dislocation, I neglected to notice that we have just passed the first day of winter, or the shortest day of the year. Which means the sun will now start setting AFTER 4 o'clock in the afternoon. Isn't that the most wonderful news of the week!

Hibernation

2008-12-20T19:11:00.000-08:00

I turned my last paper in on December 11th, somewhere around 1:30 pm. And subsequently had nothing to do. I still had a few things on my calendar, like a department Christmas party and a friend's birthday, and two more tutoring sessions at the middle school. But nothing supremely solid and nothing that required anything resembling preparation other than putting on varying amounts of makeup. Then the snow hit. While it was snowing the wind blew a bit and made it a little treacherous, but once the actual snowing and wind-blowing stopped, there was only an inch or two on the ground. Completely innocuous by Eastern Washington and Utah standards, but enough to cause people here to cancel church and start school on a delay two days after it stopped snowing. The delay meant no tutoring. It also meant I spent the day watching the 1995 BBC version of Pride and Prejudice with my friend the birthday girl and a subsequent sunny and snow-free day finishing Christmas shopping. This subsequent day brought bad news in the form of my dad's Christmas vacation being cancelled due to some work crises and the recent death of my aunt's sister-in-law. The first bit of bad news meant I was feeling sorry for myself about the nomadic, mostly solo, Christmas vacation I would be spending and the second bit made me feel guilty for feeling sorry for myself.

Wednesday brought real snow. The kind of snow that would find me housebound in Utah, let alone in a place so unused to 6 inches of snow. I realized that maybe the SUV with chains I had laughed at on Monday was driven by someone prescient instead of paranoid. It also meant that my second tutoring session was cancelled and that I would really have nothing to do other than finish wrapping and shipping Christmas presents. So, dear friends who receive packages from UPS on Monday, know that I risked life and limb in really bad weather to drive amongst lots of people who have little experience with such weather to get to the UPS Store to ensure you had surprises by Christmas. Not that I want you to feel guilty. Just appreciative.

Anyway, I was housebound. I decided to see if my theory that hibernation would be awesome was actually true. I slept in until truly obscene hours and then spent even longer lounging in bed doing nothing until my stomach told me it needed food, STAT. I only put on jeans to run outside and check the mail, justifying the return to pajama pants with the discomfort of jeans becoming wet with melting snow. I watched hours of TV and movies, mostly on my laptop. I caught up on my favorite shows, which took less time than expected because most everything went on hiatus at Thanksgiving. I watched two new episodes of Pushing Daisies and got all enraged (again) at it being cancelled when truly awful shows with similarly poor ratings remain on the schedule. But after two days of doing nothing, all that rage felt uncomfortable. Like the jeans I forced myself to wear for a couple of hours (or minutes) before returning to my pajama pants. So I stopped mentally drafting a blog post/open letter to ABC. It took too much energy. I watched Jane Eyre for the upteenth time and the watched a 1996 adaptation of The Tenant of Wildfell Hall. I noticed that BBC adaptations are not immune to the Hollywood double standard that applies to women and men older than 30. Toby Stephens is the dead sexy romantic lead in both Jane Eyre and The Tenant of Wildfell Hall. Tara Fitzgerald, who plays the lovely leading lady in The Tenant of Wildfell Hall plays old, evil, and dying Mrs. Reed in Jane Eyre, though there is only a decade between the two adaptations. And she wasn't yet 40 when Jane Eyre was filmed. Still, took too much energy to get all riled up about it.

My eating habits totally changed as well. I ate something after finally dragging myself out of bed, which could technically be called breakfast but usually to occurred to late to even qualify as brunch. After that, I might nibble on something when I walked past the kitchen on my way to the loo, but really only ate something resembling a meal, usually soup and toast after 7 or 8 pm. Other than that my only caloric intake was through sipping the 8 oz. of Coke&Lime allow myself to have in a day. The scale is registering a weight loss, but I don't really feel I have denied myself anything. Especially considering most hours of the day, waking or sleeping, during my hibernation has been spent on my bed under a pile of blankets. There is a new, me-sized, dent created on one side of my bed. I did venture out yesterday for necessities like toilet paper and milk, but the half hour I spent trying to get out of the Fred Meyer parking lot (because everyone and their Aunt Fanny was doing the same thing, usually in cars with tires not suited to snow that ended up stalling and/or sliding back down the inclined exit) convinced me to go back into hibernation. I also went to Target this morning, but only because they are forecasting another storm and I was up early because I had just cancelled plans to spend the day with my brother, sister-in-law, and niece in Seattle due to said winter storm warning. I was home by 9:30 am.

After 3 days of watching various dead sexy Brits in BBC adaptations, catching up on TV shows (and related TVboyfriends) and breezing through the first season of Supernatural on DVD (which only added to my conviction that Dean Winchester is one of the hottest TVboyfriends on the planet and also made me wonder if I needed to make an appointment to speak with my Bishop, even though I haven't done anything more than repeatedly think "Dean Winchester is wicked hot. And little Sammy isn't far behind him." and possibly fast forward through any part of the episodes that doesn't contain a Winchester in it, especially Dean) and one aborted attempt to watch Under the Greenwood Tree (Netflix's Watch Instantly program and my internet were not getting along. It took me an hour to watch 35 minutes of the movie) I decided to crack open a book. I am now halfway through The Geography of Bliss: One Grump's Search for the Happiest Places in the World, which I highly recommend, for it is both funny and thought-provoking. And a great way to travel without getting out from under warm blankets.

It is supposed to start snowing at some point tonight, which means church might again be cancelled and my hibernation can continue uninterrupted. There is a weird sort of timelessness that has come over me. Since I don't leave my apartment, day and night don't really matter. I wake up to find I turned off my alarm and it is nearly noon. Conversely I realize I'm hungry and finally eat dinner at 9:30. I shower at 11 o'clock at night because I can. I finish watching The Tenant of Wildfell Hall and discover it is nearly 3 o'clock in the morning. Time passes at different speeds depending on what I'm doing. The 5 minutes it takes for Netflix to adjust its streaming to my internet speed seems prohibitively, obnoxiously long, but the 5 hours I spend staring at my laptop, simultaneously aimlessly surfing, watching TV, and chatting with friends, passes in a blink of an eye. In some ways it is the most boring 4 days of my life. In others the most relaxing, freeing time I have spent. It has been a busy and stressful few months, on top of a couple of hard, stressful, miserable couple of years. I kind of don't want to stop hibernating. But perhaps it is better to stop while I am still enjoying it. I'm sure at some point this sort of existence would become insupportable. But until then, I have some Doctor Who and Inspector Lynley DVDs that came from Netflix today calling my name. I might as well enjoy it while it lasts.

There Might Be Something Seriously Wrong With Me

2008-12-17T21:54:00.001-08:00

Because I find the following positively delightful.

Although, I don't know how I'm going to make it until January 20th. I need Peter Bishop and his Scarf of Sexiness now, not in a month!

I Need To Find A Cheap Way To Celebrate

2008-12-16T14:47:00.000-08:00

Guess who got straight As her first quarter of graduate school? That is correct, me! Considering there were points in this quarter where I was so tired and overwhelmed I resigned myself to straight Bs, I'm pretty excited. It is the good news for the day, considering all the craptastic news that has hit today. Hope you all are having better days and a full helping of Christmas cheer! If you, like me, need a little help in the Christmas cheer department maybe this video will help.

Bad Flashbacks To Nursery

2008-12-13T21:41:00.000-08:00

So, two of the wards in our stake put on a performance of The Forgotten Carols. Did they invite the young single adults to join them? Not so much. They invited us to run the children's rooms they provided so the adults could enjoy the performance in peace. Which is fine. I volunteered, I went and I had a fine time. But as much as I hate to label children, some of them were hellions. And as the performance stretched past 8:30 pm ALL the children became tired, cranky, stinky, and/or obnoxious. There were a pair of sisters who wouldn't stop crying for their mom who, in fairness to her, warned us that they might and told us to come get her if they didn't. And then disappeared into a darkened gym. Good times. By 9 o'clock I had changed a stinky diaper, dealt with a hysterical little girl's bloody lip after she ran into another kid, and wiped countless snotty noses. I don't regret volunteering, but I would like to say it made me feel WAY better about being single and childless at this moment. A lot better. To the point of being smugly self-satisfied as I watched parents bundle up their crying children and exhaustedly walk them out of the nursery rooms. Then I walked out to my car to find it in full-on Point-of-the-Mountain-Utah-blowing-vertical-snow-blizzard mode. And I, unlike the children, and the other YSAs who were making snow angels, was not amused. It took me 25 minutes to get home. It usually takes me 5. Good thing church doesn't start until 11 am tomorrow.

Huzzahs All Around

2008-12-11T15:51:00.000-08:00

So, I turned in my last paper of the quarter at 1:30 this afternoon. The professor was in her office, and even though I have had some issues with her (which she has no idea about) I like her. She asked me into her office for a chat and asked me if I had ever considered going for a PhD. Which I have not. At least not seriously. But she suggested I think about it after a few years of teaching, because she thinks I have potential. Which was very, very flattering. And my bragging is over for the day.

So, I have a month(ish) of freedom. I don't really know what I am going to do with myself. I will definitely sleep and do all the Christmas stuff I haven't had time for, obviously. And I have to go shopping for a new toilet seat. Excuse the TMI nature of this story, but one morning when I sat on it it made a loud CRACK! And sure enough, one side had cracked all the way across. The crack went through the entire seat. As in, it is truly broken. I started to freak out that maybe I had severe body dysmorphia, only instead of seeing myself as too large, like anorexics, I was really morbidly obese only I couldn't see it. Luckily a friend assured me that was not the case. Still, how did I managed to break a toilet seat? And am I now a danger to all toilet seats? Things to ponder, I'm sure. After another nap, of course.

A Long Overdue TV Review

2008-11-30T18:33:00.001-08:00

While my father was visiting over the holiday, I introduced him (and I think got him hooked) to my one new show this season, Fringe. Fringe is the brainchild of the guys who wrote Transformers and J.J. Abrams, so I fully expect the show to become a barely watchable shadow of itself about halfway through season 2 like Alias and Lost. I loved the characters on Alias enough to soldier through until the end, whereas I just gave up on Lost. To give a shorthand description of Fringe, it is like Sydney Bristow joined The X-Files. And dyed her hair blonde. There is the requisite angst over a departed boyfriend, the elusive conspiracies, the shadowy organizations, and the crazy, inexplicable, possibly paranormal, things happening. Good times.

Now, I loved The X-Files and Alias dearly and I was enjoying Fringe. Then I made my dad watch the first 7 episodes on hulu.com and an obsession was born. When you watch the episodes all in a row, there is an impressive continuity that you don't necessarily notice when you watch them once a week. Not continuity of major plots or issues, but minor continuity details that are quite awesome and make watching fun. You can play games like "Spot the Observer," a sort of Where's Waldo for every episode. And then there are the trippy clue-like images that appear before every commercial break.

There is the leaf with the isosceles triangle embossed on it:

The six-fingered hand:

The apple half in which the seeds look like fetuses:

The toad with the symbols for the Greek letter Phi, which in math apparently symbolizes the Golden Ratio:

The daisy that appears to have a dragonfly wing for one petal:

And the seahorse that has a Fibonacci spiralon its skin:

I don't know what any of it means, but it at least piques my curiosity and provides some visual stimulus.

Then there are the characters. I haven't totally warmed up to the female FBI agent Olivia Dunham, but I really enjoy the mad scientist, Walter Bishop, and his relationship with his estranged son Peter. They have the best lines in the show and provide the necessary comic relief. And Peter Bishop is played by Joshua Jackson, who I thought was very cute when he was in the first Mighty Ducks movie 16 years ago. All these years later he is very attractive and will probably be added to the Fantasy Boyfriend League pantheon shortly. Finally there are all sorts of shady and shadowy figures and organizations that appeal to the buried conspiracy theorist in me.

So, that is my current TV obsession, which I am trying to focus on since ABC cancelled Pushing Daisies and whom I subsequently declared dead to me (ABC, not the Pushing Daisies people. I adore the Pushing Daisies people). I am still mourning that loss. But at least I have an obsession to distract me, right?

My Very First Angry Letter

2008-11-22T21:26:00.000-08:00

Technically it is an angry comment. So, I was (yet again) avoiding homework and looking through my blog archives and I found that someone had, in the past year, posted an angry comment (under the name 'Anonymous') about something I had written last fall. I had written about a girl in my Mia Maid class who was a) new b) home-schooled and c) a big fan of LDS romance novels. The post is here if you want to read it. Anonymous posted the following:

Wow, do you judge everyone as quickly as you judged this poor girl? No wonder she backed off and you never had a chance to get to know the "real person" inside. Who cares what she reads--does it have to be from your private reading list for it to be enjoyable? I guess she comes off looking pretty awful if you are the one who gets to set up the criteria of what is good and what is not. I think you have very strong biases and are extremely intolerant of other people's differences. Too bad you can't live in a world where everyone is exactly like you.

Now, this is exciting to me for two reasons. First, it means that someone other than my close friends and family have stumbled upon my blog and, second, it is funny. Angry letters are my favorite part of Eric Snider's website. I wonder which of my 'judgements' about this girl struck a nerve with Anonymous. Was it my opinion about home schooling? Was it my distaste for LDS romance novels? Was it the fact that I didn't share his or her opinion? Because if it is the third one, I find it completely ironic that I am judged to be extremely intolerant by this person for having an opinion other than his or hers. I also love the assumptions that I a) never got to know the girl in question and b) that I made my 'judgements' apparent to the point that said girl wouldn't want to get to know me. I wonder if Anonymous still reads my blog or if it was a one-time deal. Maybe it was Anita Stansfield herself. Because that would be awesome.

It's All About The Sexy Swagger

2008-11-15T18:53:00.000-08:00

We all know I'm a raging Anglophile. That is no secret. That I am also a fan of the James Bond franchise shouldn't be a surprise either. I was very, very skeptical of the casting of Daniel Craig as James Bond but found the reboot that was Casino Royale to be wicked awesome and Mr. Craig to be this generation's Steve McQueen (Seriously, Google image search them both. They could be father & son). So I was breathlessly anticipating Quantum of Solace. I was a little worried after reading some critics' responses to the film. But I shouldn't have been. It is also wicked awesome. Sure, it lacked some of the emotional depth that Casino Royale had, but it wasn't like there wasn't ANY emotional development. Additionally, I thought it spoke volumes about Bond himself, that he was becoming a violent automaton after the events of Casino Royale. Additionally, the Bond girls were beautiful, but that didn't undermine the intelligence they were supposed to have, unlike the unfortunate Denise Richards' attempt in The World Is Not Enough. But what I really meant to say here, is that Mr. Craig has perfected the sexy swagger. The man can be trudging his way across a Bolivian desert after surviving a plane crash and HE STILL MANAGES TO LOOK DEAD SEXY AND TOTALLY COOL DOING IT. That is a gift, my friends. This picture doesn't really do it justice. You'll have to go see the film.

Also, if the universe is at all just, I will some day drive an Aston Martin. Oh, and the new song isn't half bad either. I raised an eyebrow about pairing Jack White and Alicia Keys but it actually works.

2008-11-12T22:13:00.000-08:00

Have you ever had a moment in which one little event sets off a chain reaction of mental dominoes that makes you realize you might not be as happy as you thought you were? And that maybe you have spent a lot of time trying to convince yourself that you are happy so you don't have to deal with the reality of being unhappy?

One Of The Many Ways I Avoid Homework

2008-11-08T11:59:00.000-08:00

Several years ago there was a show on TV called Wonderfalls, which was random and funny and I liked it, but after a couple of episodes I lost track of it and it was shortly thereafter cancelled. Turns out Fox only aired the first 3 episodes of the 13 made. Due to the miracle of Netflix, I found the DVDs for the entire 13. I love this show. I bought the DVDs with the Amazon.com gift card I got for my birthday. (thanks, Heather!) Toward the end of the season, there is a truly heartbreaking scene that was accompanied by a haunting song I hadn't heard before. So I have spent quite a few hours obsessively hunting the song and the artist down on the internet. And now, thanks to the iTunes gift card I got for my birthday (thanks, E!), the song is now mine. Which I have listened to a billion times now and see no tiring of it in sight. So I thought I would share it with all of you. And subsequently spent another few hours hunting it down on YouTube. My readers are way more important than Econ 446. Hope you enjoy!

P.S. Wonderfalls was created by the same guy behind Pushing Daisies. If you like Pushing Daisies, I highly recommend checking out Wonderfalls. Or vice versa. And Lee Pace (the adorable Ned the Piemaker) is in both.

P.P.S. I am also completely obsessed with this song, although it has absolutely nothing to do with anything. And since the actually music video for the song gives me a migraine, I thought I would include a little Doctor Who video. So sad David Tennant is leaving!

Hail To The Chief

2008-11-04T21:40:00.000-08:00

I don't know how many of you took the opportunity to listen to President-Elect Obama's acceptance speech tonight. I know several of my regular readers are not fans, but I think his speech, purportedly written by him and not a speech writer, was impressive. He is a charismatic and eloquent speaker and tonight I think he managed to do what he does best, focus on the future and focus on possibility. Regardless of your political leanings or opinions about the man himself, it is awe-inspiring that the United States of America elected an African-American President. If he had been born fifty years earlier he would most likely have been denied the right to vote, but today he is the future President of the United States of America. That is amazing. It renews my faith in the American people. My faith that we can move past the darkest parts of our history, that we can uphold and build on and expand the ideals of equality, justice, and liberty on which our nation is founded, that we can look to the future and build a better future for our nation, our children, and our world. It will take sacrifice and hard work; it might be painful. But it is possible. And so I say, like the crowd in Chicago, "Yes We Can!"

Halloween And Assorted Other Uncertainties

2008-11-03T23:10:00.000-08:00

In an effort to be outgoing and in honor of my new calling, I went to my ward's Halloween dance/party. I wasn't feeling particularly creative and my Daphne (from Scooby-Doo) costume had seen better days. So I just slapped on some goth nail polish, a bunch of black eyeliner, a black leather cuff I found at Claire's in the 'Claire's for Boys' section, and my beloved Supernatural Metallicar t-shirt and went as my evil twin. Not particularly creative, but I wasn't feeling particularly festive. Part of it was the hellacious week of presentations-being-criticized-by-the-professor-in-the-middle-of-them-in-front-of-the-rest-of-the-class and other school stresses. Part of it is that Halloween was my mom's second favorite holiday and celebrating it is hard still (seriously, almost had a complete and total meltdown on the bus two weeks ago because I overheard a man telling his daughter about the Great Pumpkin). And part of it was the fact that in the days of Yore, Parker, Treat Queen, and I (and any other assorted friends we could drag into the mayhem) would make Halloween fun, whether we did anything grand or not. So, the evening consisted of me trying to be involved and join groups and make friends and dance and enjoy the festivities, all the while thinking "if only Parker & Treat Queen were here." I can't lie, I breathed a sigh of relief when I left the party at 11. It just wasn't the same without my good friends. So many inside jokes, cryptic references, collective memories that were missing. And sometimes I don't know if I have the energy to start all over.

The Silver Lining

2008-10-30T22:46:00.004-07:00

So it has been a spectacularly craptastic week and so after a whirlwind evening of visiting teaching and being visit taught, I sat down to enjoy a few of the TV shows I missed during the week. And boy, was I rewarded. Whether you watch Supernatural or not, I am fairly certain you will enjoy this video. Seriously, I have watched this multiple times and it still makes me laugh until I cry. Don't say I didn't warn you.

Drumroll Please . . .

2008-10-26T18:38:00.002-07:00

I am now the Education Counselor in my ward Relief Society. As if I didn't have enough on my plate already! I'm sure you all were breathlessly waiting for that announcement. Now back to our regularly scheduled programming.

The Space-Time Continuum Has Some Explaining To Do

2008-10-25T22:07:00.010-07:00

So, I'm sitting here at 10 o'clock at night on a Saturday, having just finished my philosophy reading (the whole chapter on indoctrination illuminates nothing so much as the author's hatred for the Catholic Church and religion in general) which did nothing to put me in the mood of finishing the writing of the talk I agreed to give in church tomorrow. Instead, I have been wasting time meanderingly checking blogs I regularly read and links on those blogs to other blogs and inadvertently discovered Confessions Of A Single Mormon Girl, which has a Scully there too. After reading her posts, I couldn't decide if I had stumbled upon a loop in the space-time continuum and was reading the writings of a future me or a me in an alternative dimension or if similar-thinking people choose the same internet identity. And if it is the space-time continuum, why am I not simultaneously spending some quality time in the TARDIS with a certain attractive Time Lord?

I think I'll go take a bubble bath whilst the universe and the space-time continuum contemplate that question.

Motivation Seems To Have Gone On A Holiday

2008-10-24T19:24:00.005-07:00

So it is Friday at 7:30 in the evening and I am seriously considering getting into my pajamas. I have quite a bit of homework for next week, but that so isn't getting done tonight. I have a talk to write for Sacrament meeting on Sunday, but that isn't going to get done tonight either. In fact, it is highly possible that I will spend the remaining hours before going to bed having a Supernatural mini-marathon. Which does not bode well for my future preparedness. I vaguely remember being an overachiever at some point in my life, but alas that is no more. Also, I have a soon-to-be-announced new calling, which is stressing me out just a little. All of which adds up to another Friday night at home. Good times.

Oh, and did anyone else find last night's The Office slightly disjointed and vaguely unsatisfying? I mean, there was a substantial amount of Jim on camera and he does have lovely green eyes, but still, I feel like I missed an important scene or two. Maybe it is just me.

A little birthday fun...

2008-10-19T10:23:00.001-07:00

...from your best ghost-hunting tvbf

...and your partner in crime. Remember this? Ahh, good times. I hope you have a rockin' day!

Is It Too Late To Become A Trophy Wife?

2008-10-13T21:00:00.005-07:00

Right now that seems like a much better idea than taking 17 credits this quarter (and possibly the next 8 quarters). I have been sitting here for nearly 2 hours trying to come up with ideas for a paper due tomorrow about the relationship between theory and practice in teaching. Nothing is coming. And I have two more papers due Wednesday for just one class. And another paper on Thursday. Plus reading for all my classes AND I have yet to practice my mime, which is due tomorrow at 10 am. ACK!

On the plus side, no time to obsess about turning 30 in 6 days.

The City of Subdued Excitement

2008-10-10T14:29:00.005-07:00

I have seen the above phrase on a mural of Bellingham on the side of a building downtown and on a business sign. I like it. I think it works for the city I now call home. Nearly everyone I have met is extraordinarily laid-back. Irresponsibility isn't a part of this laid-back attitude, rather, it seems founded on the knowledge that life happens and one does the best one can with the life that happens. That doesn't seem a very good explanation, because everyone is passionate about, and works hard at, whatever they do, but stress doesn't seem to be a part of it. At least not the crazy, maniacal stress that makes one drive aggressively on the freeway, at speeds 10-15 mph faster than the posted speed limit, or monopolize conversations by emphasizing one's achievements. Everyone I meet seems genuinely interested in getting to know individuals. For example, it soon became apparent to the 24 other students in the grad program that I am LDS, since one of the first questions everyone asks is where one got one's undergraduate degree, but no one really seems to care - not the way people in Utah care if someone ISN'T LDS. A few people asked questions (nice, curiosity-based ones, not agenda-having ones) and one guy avoided me (later found out he was "raised Mormon" which totally illuminated the behavior) but there wasn't any judging. And I think that is what I like best about this city. People seem to be able to live and let live.

My graduate program itself is paradoxically completely intense and amazingly relaxed. All the professors insist you call them by their first names, which takes some getting used to, and seem more worried that we don't feel overwhelmed than anything. Not that they aren't demanding and expect good work from us, but more that they don't want us to be so consumed with our studies that we don't enjoy life in the here and now. In fact, the most time-consuming and stressful class I'm taking is the undergrad economics class I have to take for my endorsement. So while all of us grad students are completely immersed in pedagogy and philosophy and performance (seriously, in one class I have to do a mime. A MIME people. I suck at Charades, how am I supposed to do a mime? Okay, so there is a little stress.) we are also surrounded by people who want us to succeed; who want our lives to be good. Which is nice, and comforting.

Finally, I have never enjoyed school so much in my life as I do now. I am excited to go through this program, to embark on this career, to follow this path. Not that I wasn't excited before, but I was more than a little uncertain about it. Now I'm certain this is what I want to do with the rest of my life, even though I know it will be difficult and overwhelming at times, and that I will graduate with a significant amount of debt to be paid. So I, like the city, am subduedly excited.

Quick Note

2008-10-04T18:43:00.009-07:00

I realize I owe you all a very long post catching you all up on my many doings these past couple of weeks, but seriously, I'm fairly overwhelmed by the whole experience and haven't had time to process. Which means there is no way to explain it in any linear, understandable fashion. Once I get a routine down, I'll be able to organize my thoughts. Plus, I crazily decided to drive home this weekend, so I'm living out of a small bag and forgot half my homework back in my apartment and am generally consumed by chaos. BUT, I do have a little something for you guys - updates on The Gummi Bear and the Peanut!

The Gummi Bear

The Gummie Bear will be 2 months-old on Wednesday and is starting to look like a baby instead of a newborn. She woke her parents up at 4am the other morning giggling. And continued to giggle for quite a while. Which I think bodes well for our relationship! Her very talented mother took this picture, which I think is adorable.

The Peanut

The Peanut just turned 6 months-old last Wednesday. He recently outgrew his 9 month clothes. He loves books, which just makes my heart swell with pride. And anytime I'm on the phone with his mom, The Accidental Housewife, he has to 'talk' very loudly, just so we both know he is still there. Those eyes of his are going to break a lot of hearts someday, don't you agree?

Without Further Ado

2008-09-29T22:15:00.004-07:00

I am just coming off the second migraine in 3 days, so I really don't have anything to blog about. But I thought I would post a couple photos of my cute apartment. Sadly, the living room looks a little squashed, but I assure you there is plenty of room to walk around the furniture.

That black thing in the corner is actually my garbage can with an overly large garbage bag in it. And the door to the bathroom opens into the kitchen, which is weird, but seeing as how it is only me, I'm not too worried.

Because I'm Only 1/2 Way Through The 300 Pages I Need To Read By Monday

2008-09-27T18:47:00.003-07:00

I will just direct you to this post at Romancing the Tome. I'm sure you all know who I voted for, although I'm a little skeptical about the accent situation. Shouldn't the actor playing Prof. Henry Higgins, the English dialect and language expert, actually speak with a proper English accent? Still any reason to stare at George Clooney on the big screen is good in my book.

I'm Back. Sort Of.

2008-09-22T14:43:00.004-07:00

Checking in from the library again. Only 48 more hours! I keep chanting that to myself. Keep your fingers crossed that there are no technical difficulties. Please.

So, experimenting with the bus system today. Definitely does not take an hour one way. More like half an hour from my front door to whatever building on campus I'm heading for. So that is good news. Plus, all the bus drivers are very nice and greet you as you get on the bus. The anti-social misanthrope in me is having a difficult time adjusting.

And my apartment is finally set to rights and everything is out of boxes. Which means I'm a little less scattered and much more sane. I just forgot to upload the photos I took, so that will have to wait for a bit.

Finally, have become completely obsessed with the first season DVDs of Pushing Daisies. I had almost forgotten about the show, what with the writer's strike preempting its return after Christmas. But, I treated myself to the DVDs at Costco the other day (still much, much cheaper than the monthly cable bill) and am remembering how wonderful the show was. So, my mission for you, dear readers, is to get to your nearest Blockbuster, Red Box, public library or Netflix account and start watching. You'll thank me. And the new season starts October 1st. Mark your calendars!

P.S. I'm a bit behind in my TV viewing, as I'm doing it strictly online, so a new series-centric blog is in the offing. You'll just have to be patient.

Hey There!

2008-09-18T15:11:00.002-07:00

Okay, so I have to make this quick. I still have a week until my internet is up, but thankfully the public library has wi-fi. Yay! So you get a random collection of thoughts.

The Fun Things:

I get Canadian radio stations. For some reason I find this endlessly entertaining.
My apartment is pretty cute AND has lots of storage space, which means that at some point the chaos will be over. And when it is, I promise pictures.
I am close to Fred Meyer, Target, Costco, the mall, and a movie theater.
There is a bus stop half a block from my front door.
Finding random things like vases and decorative bowls that I totally forgot I owned and that I love.
The YSA ward. These people are nice, introduce themselves right away, and the girls are friendly. Most of the Utah YSA wards I attended the girls saw you as competition and the guys waited for you to bring them cookies and tell them how awesome they were.

The Less-Than-Stellar Things

The chaos, people, the chaos. I have to spend at least a couple hours out of the apartment or I would collapse into a ball on my bed and not do anything.
Learning that it will probably take me an hour one-way to get to school on the bus. Study time, right?
No convenient internet. Seriously going through withdrawls, as it makes it that much harder to connect with my friends.
My picture on my student ID card. Seriously, I have the crazy eyes. Not good.

Well, I promise I will have pictures and news soon. And I'll be back as soon as I can. I miss you all!

There Will Be Bobbleheads

2008-09-11T18:12:00.004-07:00

I had to cheer myself up, as dismantling one's bedroom can be a terribly depressing undertaking, so I headed over to Television Without Pity to see what could be found there. And, oh, how the universe rewarded me! There was a transcript of an interview with The Office's Paul Lieberstein (Toby) and Amy Ryan (the new HR person, Holly) about the upcoming season 5 of The Office. You can read it here. But the best part is at the very end of the interview, in which it was promised that EACH of the show's characters will be getting their own bobblehead. Now, I never understood the obsession with bobbleheads, but I know I love my Dwight K. Schrute bobblehead dearly. And now someone is promising me the possibility of owning a Jim Halpert bobblehead. How awesome is that?

Weekly Wrap-up

2008-09-06T12:13:00.005-07:00

So, in the past 7 days I have driven 1,753 miles, monopolized my niece for approximately 3 of those days, found out I need to prove I have had two MMR vaccinations before I can register in 3 days, slept on air mattresses and in hotels, signed my life away on a lease, and watched BBC America all Saturday afternoon whilst making myself sick by gorging on macaroni & cheese because I am so stressed I NEEDED comfort food. Good times. I have a list of things to accomplish that is pretty much as long as my arm, so I don't know how much I'll be posting this week. But I will have new apartment pics and adventures-in-moving stories for you next week, I'm sure. To end on a pleasant note, here is my darling niece, Gummi Bear.

The Olympics Make Me Cry

2008-08-24T22:44:00.007-07:00

But in a good way. I try to convince everyone I'm tough, however I'm sure anyone who knows me knows I'm a big old softie. This is nowhere more apparent than when I watch the opening and closing Olympic ceremonies. I missed the Beijing opening ceremonies because I was returning home after a long day of apartment hunting in Bellingham, but I caught the closing ceremonies this evening and I must admit to tearing up.

Part of it might be that, despite my degree in international politics, my political motto can best be expressed "Can't we all just get along?" The Olympics seem to have the same motto, albeit more eloquently expressed. So seeing all the athletes enjoying themselves after accomplishing so much makes me a little misty (although not too misty not to notice that the Ralph Lauren Polo emblem took up a third of team USA's shirts. Nice.). But I nearly broke down into real sobs when the big, red London bus made its appearance to promote the 2012 Summer Olympics in London. Sometimes I forget how seriously I miss London and England and how intense my homesickness for that place can still be, especially as autumn draws near and I start thoughts with "Nine years ago today I was in . . . " I so want to go back.

Whilst watching the London presentation for the 2012 games, my heart actually started to hurt. I am not exaggerating. Does that sound insane to you? Because I sometimes question my sanity when I think back about how much I loved it there. Would it be committing treason to say I felt like I belonged in London more than any other place I have lived? Is it totally naive to think that I do belong there? Am I just waxing nostalgic and looking at the whole experience through rose-colored glasses? Is it crazy to feel more at home in a foreign country than in m own? These are questions I ask myself on a regular basis. All because, when I see a red, double-decker bus I start to cry.

The Peanut At 4 1/2 Months

2008-08-20T09:36:00.007-07:00

He's in the 96th percentile of pretty much everything and already has a tooth coming in! Plus, he is showing an early interest in books which makes my reading heart proud.

Things That Warm My Cold, Cold Heart

2008-08-17T17:32:00.003-07:00

The Gummi Bear enjoying the fruits of my labors!

Even if I had to see it on Facebook instead of it being sent to me, Mime. ; )

I May Be Biased, But . . .

2008-08-14T17:29:00.008-07:00

I don't think it is overstating matters to call the Gummi Bear adorable.

On her birth day.

At nearly a week old.

I can't hardly wait the next 17 days until I see her!

Basically Anything That Is Awesome

2008-08-13T15:58:00.004-07:00

I have been neglecting my blog and my lovely readers, so I thought I would make up for it by recapping the last month or so of my life. Categorized by the relative awesomeness of said events.

Things That Are Awesome:

Finding an apartment. Finally. Had many a freak-out about the possibility of my being homeless and living in my car whilst going to school.
The Dark Knight. Seriously go see it if you haven't already. I have seen it twice and I am still thinking about it. You won't be able to take your eyes of Heath Ledger as The Joker.
The arrival of Gummi Bear (I'm still waiting on pics of her that I can post. I do have some, but they aren't that flattering to Mrs. Mime, and I don't want to do that to her!)
Not having to go to work every morning. Seriously love determining what I do and when I do it. Freedom!
I made a practically perfect pie crust on Monday. I know! It has never happened before and will probably never happen again, but it did happen!
Michael Phelps
The Internet. Parker moved to a place that is wired and we have enjoyed a few late night chats via IM. These conversations are always enjoyable. Case in point:
Scully: Please tell me it is a ridiculous extravagance to pre-order Season 3 of Supernatural as I am unemployed and going to grad school.
Parker: I can't do that. I can, however, nicely encourage you to order them.
Scully: This is why we are friends.
Parker: hee. You're gonna need some AlecDean to get you through those rainy fall nights. I'm just sayin.

Things That Are Slightly Less Than Awesome:

The X-Files: I Want To Believe. I wanted desperately to love this movie. As an X-Phile, I enjoyed it, but it kind of left me wanting more. And I don't know exactly what it is I wanted, but it just made me very sad that there would be no more. And now I desperately want the complete series on DVD. But I don't have the requisite $275 (plus shipping & handling) that Amazon demands before they will send it to me.
The fact that what have been choosing to do with the freedom of being unemployed is sleep. I still get up at 6:40 am to have breakfast with my dad, but after I read my scriptures and say farewell to my dad, I go back to sleep and don't usually wake up until 10 am. Even if I set the alarm on my mobile and hide it at the opposite side of the room.
Reading The Suspicions of Mr. Whicher until midnight and realizing how freaked out I was by said book so that I had to read North & South until 1 am to get it out of my head. Which led to another morning lounging in bed until 10.

Things That Are The Opposite Of Awesome:

Mental freak-outs about: possible homelessness; the fact that I haven't heard from the Financial Aid office about the form I sent in over a month ago and that HAD to be in at the end of July; realizing I had no idea when I needed to register for classes and thinking I might have missed the window (I didn't); reading here that drinking cola everyday doubles your chances of chronic kidney disease; packing; moving; paying for everything and many, many more.
The hiatus of Doctor Who for more than a year whilst David Tennant does Hamlet for the RSC. Plus, season 4 of Doctor Who ended on such a downer note, I really wanted something a bit cheerier sooner. There are going to be a couple one-off specials, but who knows if anyone in the US will even air them.
Allergies.
The prohibitive cost of cable and high-speed internet, both of which are necessary to my survival as a human being.

A Rather Auspicious Beginning

2008-08-08T23:07:00.003-07:00

The Gummi Bear made her appearance today, 08/08/08, a day considered very lucky by the Chinese (hence the opening ceremonies of the Olympics) and just a cool numerical coincidence. She weighed in at 7 lbs 8 oz and 19 inches (As per Mime's comment, she is actually 19 1/2 inches). She has very dark eyes, which means they will probably be brown like her mother's. I'll post pics when I can.

Like A Very Bad Flashback

2008-08-03T21:52:00.003-07:00

I now have time to catch up on my Netflix queue, and finally got around to watching the last Christopher Guest movie For Your Consideration. This deleted scene gave me the most horridly hilarious sense of deja vu, because it was (excepting the hand holding) so much like a conversation one might have with TheOwner at my former place of employment. Just thought you would enjoy a peek into what was once my life. I am so glad I don't have to face the office tomorrow!

My Big Mouth

2008-07-30T15:17:00.003-07:00

Vacation posts are coming, it is just that what has happened since returning from said vacation is much more interesting and important right now. Regular readers know that the office I work for has some interesting personalities. It is also a fairly casual office, the uniform being jeans and sneakers or flip flops. Well, while I was on vacation, someone visited the office looking for the law office next door. The owner of the law office next door is also TheOwner of our office. TheBoss, our day-to-day manager is out of town for five weeks fishing in Alaska.The visitor informed TheOwner that our office was unprofessional. Which prompted a flurry of stress and a few changes.

Change one was that all time off such as vacation, absences, sick days, doctors' appointments etc. have to be cleared through TheOwner. Second, if we go to TheBoss first for these things, like we used to do, we will be dismissed. Finally, any conversation not directly related to work had to take place in the break room or the conference room. He told everyone that he was open to a response for two weeks and then he would consider it a closed topic. Monday, when I got back from vacation, I got an earful from everyone. Nearly everyone was prepping their resumes and planning to leave. There was an unspoken agreement not to ruin TheBoss's vacation, although he found out anyway and asked TheBarista what was going on.

Cut to me. I was completely annoyed with the turn of events and, having an eye appointment, I figured I would kill two birds with one stone and send the following:

TheOwner,

I have an eye appointment scheduled on ------. I will be using my lunch hour to cover the appointment. I understand that we now have to clear all absences, appointments, sick days, etc. with you.

Since I was out of the office when the new system was instituted, I would like to get your confirmation on what was explained to me as the new system.
As stated above, any time away from the office between the hours of 8 AM and 5 PM, excepting the lunch hour, needs to be cleared through you via email or phone.
If we speak to Mike about any absence mentioned above before we contact you, we will be dismissed.
All non-work related conversations must take place either in the conference room or in the break area by the file cabinets. Any such conversations taking place outside these designated areas will prompt our dismissal.
Have I missed anything? I understand that this new system was adopted in response to a complaint about the professionalism, or lack thereof, of our office. I also understand that you are open to a response on this system.

First and foremost, if I had not already given notice that I was leaving, I would be seriously considering my future with this company. While I do not know the details of what occurred, the results of the incident completely undermines any sense of employee well-being for the following reasons:
The institution of the new system while TheBoss is gone, combined with your insistence that TheBoss be excluded from any managerial decision-making not only professionally emasculates TheBoss, but puts all employees in a difficult situation. We are forced to choose between ignoring our day-to-day manager and boss or being dismissed by one who is, for the most part, absent on a day-to-day basis. If you have issues with TheBoss's management style or dislike how the office is being run, it should first be discussed between you and TheBoss and then discussed with the employees. It is uncomfortable to be stuck in the middle of an executive-level disagreement.
The new system is insulting to your employees. You valued the subjective observations of someone who spent a fraction of an hour in the office and who has absolutely no knowledge of the workings of the office over the record of employees who have worked for you for years and with whom you trust multi-million dollar deals, significant sums of money, and the related bank account information. Either you trust your employees with the future of this company or you don't. We can't do our jobs effectively if our skills, decision-making, work ethic, and integrity can be undermined by one individual.
If we did indeed do something wrong, we need more specific direction than 'unprofessional.' What, exactly, did the individual making these accusations find unprofessional? If we have only a vague understanding of what we did wrong, how can we ever hope to fix it? Additionally, without details we can never successfully defend ourselves.
I understand that hearing the title company pronounced 'unprofessional' by a valued client would be upsetting. However, the anger and rapidity with which the new system was instituted and the severity of its nature underscore that is was done in anger and with a sense of retribution. This is unjust. It is your company and your investment, but your employees also invest in this company. If we feel we have no recourse or voice we will have no alternative but to leave a place that, up until now, was a fulfilling place to work; a place where we felt valued. That has changed.
I hope that you take my suggestions seriously. I don't know exactly how the rest of the office is feeling, but I think it necessary to tell you how I feel. This has been a good place to work and I have been treated well during some very difficult circumstances. It would be a shame for this company to lose the personality and environment that made it unique.

Thank you,

Scully

I sent it at 9 AM yesterday. He apparently got it yesterday evening, as I was promptly dismissed before 9 AM today. I actually feel pretty good about it. I was expecting it, actually. Sure, it would have been nice to have two more paychecks before I leave for school, but I felt it was really important that something be said, and since I was leaving anyway and didn't have a huge pile of bills or a family to support I felt I could be the one to say something. So I'll have a lot more time to do things I enjoy, like blog and read, and things I desperately need to do, like find a place to live at school. and yard work. And I promise a vacation blog is next!

I Need A Vacation To Recover From My Vacation

2008-07-28T20:58:00.002-07:00

I had loads of fun, saw several good movies, enjoyed lots of time with friends and family and desperately need to sleep. I promise to write more later. I just need to get some sleep first.