Goddess of Discord

And now, the moment you've all been waiting for . . .

2011-01-26T00:48:00.012-07:00

Ok, so i know I've mentioned that at some point there was going to be this totally epic post about the bed I made, but first I have to give credit where credit is due. I owe thanks for the plan idea to ana-white.com. I owe a ton of thanks to my dad for letting me use his tools and for his general knowledge and help with the actual construction. And I owe a ton of thanks to my mom who did the majority of the painting.

Ok, so basically for the first 6 or so months of our marriage Darrel and i slept on a mattress and boxspring on the floor. Initially i figured I would shell out the $25-$50 for a metal bedframe and just call it good. But then I got inspired by Ana White and her building designs and figured for $150 plus some good old-fashioned elbow grease I could make a headboard/footboard and it would look amazing and last.

Here's a picture documentary of the process:

My beautiful lumber. This was obviously the most expensive part of the project-around $120

After the majority of the cuts have been made.

The main part of the footboard assembled.

The main part of the headboard assembled.

Headboard and footboard assembled!

And painted!

Here's the bed during the practice assembly. The bed had to be completely assembled and then taken apart to be transported from my parents house to our apartment.

And last but not least: Completed Farmhouse Bed!

So yeah, pretty crazy awesome. I figure if I'd actually had the time and energy to be working on this project without distraction it could have easily been completed within 3 days (aside from the painting). As it was it took a 2-3 months because I could only work on it when I wasn't working. Also, since I'm just learning at this, I only worked when my dad was close at hand to answer questions or to show me how to do something. I would say that after doing this project I'm a lot more comfortable using power tools.

If I can do it you can do it! Here's to not spending a fortune on having a well-furnished house! Buying a bed like this would have easily cost at least 10 times more than what I spent on it.

Chaos

2010-11-16T00:03:00.002-07:00

My office is a mess and I can't find the cord that goes to my camera so I can upload photos. This is seriously putting a cramp in my blogging plans.

But I just watched this video which made my day

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2XID_W4neJo

but what made my day more is the fact that I've been married for 6 months to the most amazing guy ever! Yay!

Why I don't post as often as I should

2010-10-30T23:14:00.002-06:00

I feel like stuff that I post here should be more epic. Like it should show that I'm actually doing something instead of just sitting around on facebook or sleeping in whenever possible or something. I don't know.

And I keep thinking that my next post is going to be about this totally awesome project I've been working on since July or August, but that project keeps taking longer than I think it should so I keep procrastinating putting anything here.

I'm building a bed. Or rather a bed frame/headboard/footboard thing. Everything except the boxspring and mattress. I found the plans here. And I keep thinking, oh it's almost done I should be able to post something. But it's not. It's definitely closer to being done and progress is being made at a faster rate than usual, but it's not done :(

The other problem is that this project is the first step in a chain reaction to getting our apartment in working order. The bed needs to be done so the room can be arranged and so the extra stuff in the office can be put under the bed so I can organize the office so I can work on my quilts/sewing projects so I can stop living in chaos and de-stress.

Luckily, or sadly, the reason this project is going faster now is because my mom's been very motivated to help me so my stuff can be out of her house so she and my dad can tear out and completely redo their kitchen so that my mom can finally be happy with her house.

It's all hinging on this one project. I'm tired, and I want it done. NOW.

It's All In Your Head Mr. Tweedy . . .

2010-09-24T21:56:00.002-06:00

I am experiencing some moderate back pain. It's something that I've had before but not quite to this extent, since typically it tapers off after a couple days and this is currently my 3rd week and counting.

It's lower back pain, and off to one side and bad enough my husband made me see the doctor about it. Which was a hassle for the most part, but I did it because seeing me miserable was making him miserable, and I don't like for him to be unhappy. And the doctor gave me meds for it :)

Anyway, that's not really the story here. The story is that I think this is all in my head. For the past 6 months work has been a nightmare. From the pharmacy manager quiting to two lead technicians quitting to the more tolerable pharmacist quitting it's gotten to be a more than a little hectic.

After months of pharmacists-on-the-go and management being temporarily taken over by not the most organized of pharmacists we finally got a new manager . . . and that's when things started really getting bad.

What I'm saying is, I dread going to work. I hate it. I go and I'm mad about how crazy and stupid things are and then I come home and obsess about how crazy and stupid things were. My dreams are filled with scheduling nightmares and insurance company phone calls, and once images of our disorderly file box exploding from the volume of unsorted papers being stuffed into it.

But here's the kicker, yesterday, my back didn't hurt a bit. It was one of my days off, and I was just enjoying spending time with my hubby. Then about 5pm rolled around and I started thinking about the next day and every so slightly my back twinged a little, that twinge gradually grew into a steady dull ache, and by this morning it was back to it's lovely stabbing pain at any twist, turn, or bend.

I just don't think I should have to deal with both the crappy work situation and a sore back. And since the back doesn't seem to be going anywhere . . .

Stumbling Block

2010-09-12T22:16:00.002-06:00

Yesterday, I mentioned something to my husband about it being September 11th. He responded with "so? all that 'never forget' crap is just stupid," which kind of startled me at first, but then really got me thinking about things.

Once I got over the initial "what??" moment of his comment, it actually kind of made sense. What exactly are we remembering?

Are we striving not to forget the people that died that day? Or are we dwelling on the violent, hateful, evil act that caused all those deaths? When we think about that day to we remember the images of the planes crashing into the buildings, or do we think about the courage of the people on Flight 93 that attempted to and, at least in part, succeeded to thwart the terrorists plans? It seems that generally the focus is a negative one.

I believe that in most situations, our inability to move on only serves to handicap us. When someone offends us, focusing on the slight only makes us unhappy and spiteful. And obsessing over something we have no control over will only make us crazy. Though this was an intentional act meant to strike us to our core, it is not that different. Our negative focus has only served to create an abundance of misplaced distrust and even hatred of a culture and system of beliefs, who are likely just as horrified by the actions of the extremist groups that are truly to blame. Dwelling on the past only makes it easier to stumble and fall because we aren't looking where we are headed; to the future.

Dark Secrets

2009-07-22T20:22:00.002-06:00

I collect dark secrets.

Not my own of course. That would be weird, I mean, how many dark secrets can one person have? When that person is me, not very many. What I'm talking about ties into this post that I wrote over two years ago. Apparently, in addition to asking me for advice about various subjects, people also like to tell me their dark secrets.

I know so much about people it's scary. I fear for my life. One of these days someone is going to do something really bad and then tell me and then they are going to change their mind about wanting me to know it. And then I'll have to make a break for it. Because even though I've taken self-defense classes twice, I know that I would lose in a fight against most people. Especially if they are someone I care about in any way. I would tell you where I plan on escaping to, but then I'd have to come up with a whole new plan because you'll know exactly where to look for me.

I have a talent for attracting confessions of past misdeeds. Or just plain regular lesser known details of people's lives. In fact, telling people that I have this bizarre gift seems to inspire more dark confessions. I don't know what to do. I should write a book. "Eris Tells All: a collection of unknown facts of the people around me" by Eris, Goddess of Discord. I could make millions! bwahahaha!

Ok, so probably not. Sorry, but even if I had the time and the guts to put together such a book, I don't think people would really be interested in buying it. Someone spilling someone else's secrets just brings to mind the tabloids at the check-out counter. Most of it could be denied. I have no proof about most of these things. Nothing would hold up in court. It's much more entertaining when someone decides to spill all about their own hidden lives. And in all honesty, there's not much I could write about on that.

How would that even go?

I ate those Hershey bars that you put in the freezer mom. Years ago. Matt helped me. Sorry Matt, but I'm not going down alone on this one.

Goodbyes

2009-05-05T00:12:00.002-06:00

It's been an interesting last 8 months. It's unusual of me to become such good friends with someone in such a short amount of time. It's weirder still that I'm that good of friends with a guy. And frankly it sucks to watch him leave.

I went to his open house last night. First person there, last one to leave. Provided about a third of the food for it, and helped prepare the house beforehand and clean up afterward. I'm not really ready to have him leave. Not prepared to not wake up to his phone calls, or practically fall asleep talking to him. There is more I want to learn about cars before he goes. More I want to laugh about. More movies I want to quote with him.

A goodbye is not complete without a hug. I was surprised, and felt very special that he invited me to be there when they set him apart as a missionary. I went knowing that I wouldn't be able to give him a hug when I left his house, and knowing it would be the last time I saw him for two years. It was a bit prolonged. I expected to leave shortly afterward, knowing that lingering would make it harder, but his family invited me to stay for dinner.

I said goodbye and shook his hand. See you in two years. I said goodbye to his family, and he followed me outside saying he needed to tell me something.

"Thanks for being my best friend."

Blind

2009-04-20T17:23:00.002-06:00

Eyesight is overrated. I've occasionally had the thought that if I had to choose between losing my hearing and my eyesight I would rather lose my eyesight. This stems from the fact that I would probably die if I couldn't listen to music. The very thought sends shivers down my spine.

After this crossed my mind I thought for a moment that being blind would prevent me from enjoying another pastime, reading. But even as this thought crossed my mind, I remembered books on tape, and even the possibility of learning how to read in braille. Which, you have to admit would be awesome to be able to do. Half of the enjoyment of a book comes from the way it smells anyway.

I don't think I would trade the taste of chocolate for the ability to see either. I mean really, the idea is preposterous. And touch? well I wouldn't give that one up either. I mean, I can even pretty well find my way through familiar spaces without seeing, so even as a means of navigation it is somewhat expendable.

When it comes right down to it, if I had to give up one of the five senses, I would give up eyesight . . .

Except for one thing.

I would trade sound, smell, taste, and touch just to look into your eyes.

Poems

2009-02-18T18:59:00.003-07:00

Here are some poems I wrote for my poetry class. Enjoy and please leave me comments! All comments are welcome!

Being Serious

It’s hard to talk when I hear these things from
you. My throat gets too tight to breathe, and I
can’t think of the words that will make you come
back to me again. I don’t want to cry
in front of you, but I can’t stop the tears
that are already tracing down my cheek.
I can see that it hurts, those crazy fears
that you aren’t strong enough. When you speak
of knowing what it is I want; a guy
to hug and whisper in my ear, someone
I can trust, I want to know why
that can’t be you. You want to be the one.
So hold me close and keep me safe. I know
you and I want the same thing. Please don’t go.

Passive

faces become painted masks
and eyes are broken window glass
words bubble up
trapped behind immovable lips
leaving words to dissolve
unspoken, unexplained
leaving unshed tears
to trace new drops of paint
alone in silence

Amputee

Like shadowed, phantom limbs
I feel you there.
Still there, still there
But when I look there remains only a void.

I can’t get up from this wheelchair
You’ve left me in.
You’re gone, you’re gone,
A missing piece of who I’m supposed to be.

This hand, this foot, arm, leg,
Leaving me a soul-lost cripple,
No heart, no heart,
And yet, I feel it beating.

No hope now, but prosthetic parts,
A shattered breathless shadow
Of me, of you,
The pain exquisite in its sweet torture.

What Really Matters

2008-12-03T15:48:00.002-07:00

This is part of Jen's Self-Esteem Carnival. Check it out.

The past year has been a crazy mess. I came home from school in January not really knowing what I would do. I worked for a while as a temp hating it the whole way, forced myself to go to church with people I believed I had no interest in knowing, and felt like a huge loser the whole time because the situation was entirely my fault.

What is it about people that makes it so much easier for us to see the amazingness in other people but not in ourselves? I look at each of my friends and I can give a list of reasons I like being around them for each and everyone of them, but when I think about myself I always shake my head and wonder, "why do they like hanging out with me?" It always boggled my mind.

With the media pushing all the physical expectations of women, we are to be gorgeous, skinny, with perfect hair, and clear skin, it's no wonder I see people falling into the trap of believing that they are only worth what their bodies can get them. I find myself talking to some of my girl friends, telling them that they deserve better that some guy that's just after some action, they deserve to be loved for who they really are. I've never believed myself to be the drop-dead gorgeous person that society expects all women to be, but I don't need to believe that to feel good about myself.

Over the last year I've found some things about myself that I hope I will remember for the rest of my life. I don't need a boy to be happy. I don't have to hate my job, I just had to find something that I enjoy doing. I can survive without one of my best friends being close by. People telling me I'm beautiful has never made me feel better about myself, but someone telling me I have "an awesome personality" does. Ditto for hearing that I have the biggest smile they've ever seen, and for people asking me if I'm ever afraid my "funny will break" because I laugh so much.

I think I used to be a crazy outgoing person, and I don't really know where this quiet person I've seen lately came from. I remember those share-something-about-your-neighbor games in Sunday School, and I remember people saying I was the person always smiling, or laughing or whatever. I think I lost that person for a while. But guess what? I think she's back.

After all, what really matters isn't what other people see when they look at us, it's what we see when we look inside ourselves. I'm happy because I've finally been able to start seeing in myself what other people have been seeing all along. And I am AWESOME.

I'm it!

2008-10-21T00:51:00.002-06:00

My sis-in-law tagged me here, and I figured I should probably do it because I don't get tagged very often (because I'm a slacker of a blogger). So here goes.

8 things I'm passionate about:
1. My friends -- basically a huge priority in my life. I don't think a day goes by without me talking to at least 3 of my friends.
2. Music -- I have enough music I could listen to it for at least a week without repeating any songs.
3. Reading -- After I started my job I rediscovered the library. I constantly have several books checked out and at least 3 on hold at any given time.
4. Movies
5. Scotland -- I will go there. I love, love, love Scotland.
6. Rain -- I stood outside in the rain today. Best feeling ever.
7. Pool -- lately I just wanna play all the time.
8. Dancing -- this kind of just goes hand in hand with music.

8 words or phrases I say often:
1. Freakin' A! (yes, exactly like that)
2. What the ?! (when startled)
3. You are my hero (said anytime anyone does some cool/silly or when they do something that just makes me happy)
4. Your face
5. Congratufreakin'lations
6. Boys are stupid! (to which Nate always replies "yeah they are!")
7. No really, who says that??
8. It tickles my fancy (OK, only recently, and this one kind of bugs me 'cause it just sounds so odd).

8 things I want to accomplish in the coming year:
1. Finish pharmacy tech program
2. Move out
3.Have a rockin' time with Kim.
4. Take at least one photography class.
5. Decide what I want to major in.
6. Save lots of money.
7. Actually take one of my brilliant ideas and make a music video already.
8. Cure cancer, lol, no really that would be awesome.

8 places I would love to go or visit:
1. Scotland (!!!!!)
2. England
3. Germany
4. The Louvre
5. New York
6. New Zealand "I WILL go to New Zealand and I walk the Mordor trail."
7. Mexico
8. The Moon

8 things I need or want: (I only get 8???)
1. My brakes need to be checked.
2. The entire cast to Phantom of the Opera, then I can just watch the play whenever. People will come to hang out and I'll be like "you guys wanna watch Phantom? sweet, I'll go make sure they are ready."
3. A wolf.
4. An all expense paid life in Scotland.
5. More hours at work.
6. Better sound system in my car.
7. I need to know how to break dance.
8. More sleep.

I tag Mauri, Carly, and Charlotte. You know who you are. You read this and you'd better . . .

Boy Problems

2008-10-06T12:27:00.002-06:00

I thought I would shed a little light on my previous post. I believe I have the market cornered on boy related awkwardness lately. Every story starts I tell lately starts out:

So there's this guy . . .

I've known him for a couple years now, and I've generally held the opinion that he is one strange cookie. Granted he has some legitimate issues he has to deal with that contribute to that but I don't think that excuses some of the odd misconceptions he has. I made the mistake of chatting on Facebook with him one day and somehow found myself agreeing to go see a movie with him. It was fun, the movie was good, and whatnot, but I'm still so far from being interested it's crazy. The main problem for me is that I'm a very private person for the most part. Granted I have no qualms with sharing facts and stories about myself, but when it comes to what I think about stuff or my reasons for doing things I'd rather people just not know. This guy is so far on the other end of the spectrum. It worries me when people share that much about themselves on such a casual encounter. Partly because it freaks me out that they will expect the same level of openness from me (and they aren't gonna get it) and partly because I worry that they'll think I actually have been that open with them and they'll think they actually know something about me ( which generally they don't).

Anyway, after that one casual date I realized that I probably should never have agreed to it. I found myself being called and invited to go to various activities with him. Even after completely avoiding him when we happen to be at the same place at the same time.

Yesterday, I was again on Facebook, and he started chatting with me. Here is what followed (with mental commentary in italics on the side):

Boy: Hey
nice lady what the weird??
how are you?
Me: Good
Boy: Would you hate me if I moved to Seattle? no, oh my gosh I would love you to move to Seattle
Me: No, Seattle is awesome!
If you want to go you should go
Boy: But you would miss the ham and eggs out of me wouldn't you? no, but what the heck . . .
Me: what does that even mean?

Basically, I have no idea where he's gotten the impression that I would "miss the ham and eggs out of him," but it's all very strange. I don't know if he's confused and thinks that my general avoidance of him is me playing hard-to-get, but it's not. I'm playing a completely different game. One I like to call don't-catch-me.

This has kind of has me thinking that I really hate the dating game. At least I hate the initial stages. I don't know what's wrong with two people hanging out and having fun just being together. I figure that eventually it will become clear that one or both parties are interested in it becoming something more (or neither will and you'll just continue being friends). If both parties are interested well then "hurray!" if only one is interested, hopefully you'll be good enough friends that you'll be able to work through it in a rational manner without hating each other in the end.

Quote of the Day

2008-10-05T01:19:00.000-06:00

"I think your boy problems and my girl problems should get together and make some baby problems."

Ain't that the truth?

Chocolate Covered Tomatoes

2008-09-24T23:30:00.002-06:00

I went to the doctor this week. It's the first time in ages that I have a primary care physician. Am I a slacker or what? Granted, I've only had the inclination to go to the doctor about twice in the last year, but still.

He doesn't think Fred is what I've always thought it was. This is shocking. For three years I've thought I knew what was going on, and it turns out the odds of that being true are incredibly slim. Case in point is that almost every case of duidinitis is caused be the H. pylori bacteria. Which I seem to lack (this is good??). At any rate, my doctor told me I can't eat chocolate or tomatoes for a month.

And I was beginning to think he was a nice guy!

Initially, I was sadder about the chocolate, because seriously? I am a chocoholic. But it's the no tomatoes thing that is making me most sad. I've even dreamed about eating tomatoes the last couple nights. :( You can kind of see exactly how I feel here right when the time counter reads 3:03. (Brian Regan is great, he's absolutely hilarious and his humor is really clean.

Sad face.

Overdue

2008-09-20T00:25:00.002-06:00

So yeah. I need to write on here way more often. The thing is stuff happens that would be good to write about but I don't ever feel like I have time to get on here and record it.

So here goes:

I started working at Target a couple months ago. I needed a job super bad, so I got stuck working the super early morning shift. For a night owl, 4am is a really terrible time to have to be coherent. The work itself wasn't so bad though, just stocking shelves and my supervisor was cool. But my trainer? Pretty much evil.

I'm not joking. The worst part was that she was deceptively nice when I first started. I also had to deal with the return of Fred (I don't think I've mentioned this on here, so quick update. Fred is my "ulcer." Really he is just an inflammation, but he sucks so much I can't even tell you. He's even more evil in the morning so he got along with work just dandily). His most recent attack resulted in my leaving work early a couple days and a visit to the doctor to destroy him once and for all. After getting back to work though, it was like this crazy transformation had occurred and my trainer had become this scary woman! The expectation was that once you'd been there for a week you had better be pro, or else. I celebrated every time I was in a different section of the store.

After about a month of this my availability changed because of the start of my Pharmacy Tech program, and I'm now working as a cashier. More on this later.

I've been in my pharm tech program for 4 weeks now, only 11 to go. Everything is going so perfectly as far as this is concerned it's just awesome. I've got my license to be a tech in Oregon, so Target is switching me over to the pharmacy pretty soon. Hurray! I'm going to be the only person in my program that is getting paid for my cooperative work experience.

My only complaints about my program are my math class and that one person that everyone always has in every class that has to talk and ask questions incessantly. My math class sucks because I've been through calculus. I don't want to sit in a two hour class to "learn" about proportions and unit multipliers. Give me a line to rotate around an axis or something! Please!

Then there's this person. Now most people don't have to deal with the SAME person in every class, so they are just minorly annoyed with each individual inquisitive idiot. But here the natives are getting restless. There are 24 people in my program and we go through classes as a cohort. We are slowly beginning to loathe every moment this person is talking. I feel kind of bad for her, but she is seriously so annoying. Can't she just save her random non-related questions for after the class?

I really, really like my job. As a cashier I have to deal with all the stupid people. But the majority aren't that bad. The people I can't stand are the ones that do something stupid and then think I'm the idiot for not being able to fix their mistake. I'm sorry, but if you pay with your credit card first there is nothing I can do about you not being able to use your gift card. I can't undo your credit card transaction, so don't look at me like I'm a moron when I send you to guest services. The other people that bug me are the ones that stand there while I bag their purchases and then decided that they don't need a bag and then unbag the stuff and leave the bags. Thanks. I will now throw these away because reusing them is a bigger pain than it's worth. It especially bugs me if you say something about trees or resources while you do this. Take it home and recycle it, or tell me not to bag it in the first place. I can't read minds. Then there are the people that act all offended if I don't have the store memorized. I'm a cashier. Yes, I've been in stocking too, but you don't know that. I can tell you if we carry a baby food flavor, or a certain brand of diapers, but considering that's where I spent most of my time stocking, I can't tell you much else. There are people on the floor to answer these questions.

I've rediscovered the library. I've got a hold list about 20 books long and I've got about a dozen checked out. It makes me feel like a nerd, but it gives me something to talk about when I'm reading a different book every day in class. The bad thing is that when these are all read there's about a million more I want to read. Me in a library or a bookstore is worse than a kid in a candy shop.

This added to my new church responsibilities as education counselor pretty much sums my life up. All in all, it's going pretty well.

Deepest Discoveries Out of Darkest Moments

2008-05-21T23:22:00.002-06:00

I've come to the realization that the times I am at my most wretched, my most depressed, are the times when I find out a little more about myself, believe a little more in my potential, and push to do better.

The days I spend crying softly to myself become the days of great personal, spiritual discovery. Each little pinpoint of light, each star in the dark of loneliness and depression becomes starkly apparent. And I come away with a newer, fresher perspective on the person I am and the person I want to become.

Every time I sink into some doubt of my potential, or my awesomeness, I am surrounded by reassurances through family and friends and an amazing unfathomable love from my Heavenly Father.

I really don't know what to say, other than yesterday was one of the most emotionally awful days of my life, but it ended as one of the most spiritually strengthening.

911 . . . it seems easy, but when it comes right down to it?

2008-04-28T00:21:00.002-06:00

Today I was driving to church with my brother. We're just driving along and suddenly this lady on the sidewalk collapsed right as we drove past. We were both just kind of stunned. What do we do? Should we stop? Call 911? Pray?

We ascertained that someone else had stopped, so leaving our minds at ease. Except for one thing: How do you actually make a 911 call? I'd never done it, he'd never done it, we really had just no clue. The problem in my mind wasn't the calling for help itself, but more just describing the location as would have to be done since we would be calling from a cell phone.

It's something I thought about all through church. If I had had to make that call, would it have turned into this big jumbled mess? Would they have understood what I was saying? Would they have come to the right place?

I just wish I knew what happened to the woman, and if she was ok.

Selling Yourself For Science

2008-04-07T15:31:00.001-06:00

Use this little calculator to find out how much your body is worth as a cadaver.

$5000.00

Masterpiece

2008-03-03T23:39:00.004-07:00

as
rain
shivers
in the air
taps windows
plip-plop tapping
percussion and drums
with wind accompaniment
and trees play all the strings
a symphony of nature-sound
the storm its concert master
a frog pond sings the chorus
welcoming the water-life
gently fading out

Here Kitty, Kitty

2008-03-02T02:22:00.002-07:00

It was Saturday. There was a gun show, and a cat show (house cat's, not tigers like Nathan thought) at the fair.

At the gun show it occurred to me that if we were living in a TV show someone would have been killed there. And some detective like Adrian Monk, or Shawn Spencer would have shown up to figure it out.

Afterwards at the cat show, the whole thing became even funnier. The murder would happen at the cat show. And of course it would have something to do with the gun show.

I don't know all the details.

Also, mom and I managed to find jewelry, books, purses, and pink guns at the gun show. The most interesting things were the knives, in my opinion.

I'm pretty sure we were driving dad and Nathan crazy with all our, "oh, that one's pretty!"

Blog Potpourri

2008-03-01T01:41:00.004-07:00

Here's a bunch of random stuff.

I've read several books in the past two months. I've always been a library addict, and now more than ever. I recently read Snow Flower and the Secret Fan by Lisa See, which was beautiful and sad. It's set in 19th century China, and talks a lot about foot binding, which totally weirds me out. Then I got to thinking, there is all this stuff about how it made their legs look longer because the idea was that the foot would look like more of an extension of the leg. It started as a status symbol, for men and women; the women could afford to have servants, and the men could afford to have a wife that couldn't really do anything. It also made them walk with very short steps. Interestingly enough, this makes me think of high heels. Granted I made a comment a while back on this blog about liking high heels. But what do they do but make us look like we have smaller feet and longer legs? Interesting how you have to learn how to walk in heels, because you'll kill yourself if you try to walk normally. Short, quick steps. I still like heels, but it's something that really made me think. I was ranting for days about how horrible the idea of binding feet is, while our society does similar, if not as permanently damaging, things to women.

I also read Blink by Malcolm Gladwell. It discusses the role our subconscious plays in decisions. And how you can know things without knowing how you know them.

And now I'm reading Ender's Game by Orson Scott Card. I can't believe I haven't read this until now. Nearly all my friends have read it. It's a very popular book. It's right up my alley, scifi/fantasy awesomeness. It kind of hurts my head in that the main character is 9 (at the point I'm at in the book) and he thinks more like an adult than I do. He thought more like an adult when he was 6 as well. Maybe I'm not the best person to judge against. The amazing thing is that the way everything is set up it's still almost believable.

Nathan straightened his hair for the last church dance. Or rather, I straightened his hair. His hair is longer than parts of mine. It's kind of crazy. He went to the dance and got some remarkably stupid comments and questions. Such as, "how did you do that?" Um, a straightener? C'mon, no one would ask a girl that. For most hair (on a guy or girl) there are only a few ways to do that. A more pertinent question would be, " how long did that take?" I curled my normally stick straight hair, and that's basically the question I got.

I'm torn. I have a double bed. It's nice, and big and roomy. I miss my twin bed. Twin beds are great. When it's cold your whole bed is warm, as opposed to the cold patches that develop in larger beds. When it's hot you can hang you arms and legs off the bed to cool off. I'm so used to a twin bed right now that I don't even utilize all the space I have. When your bed is propped up on cinder blocks you get used to changing sleep positions without falling off the bed, so the fact that you've only got 4 ft or so doesn't even matter. If I had a twin bed right now I would have tons of space in my room.

I've got a job. I'm working at the same place I always end up working. I start Monday. I have an interview for a different job in a couple weeks. I hope I get it because it is less hours a week and I need to be able to take some classes at the college here.

I hate drug tests. Not only are they so completely pointless for me, they are so freaking annoying! I can't go on demand. I have a shy bladder. I finally got through the drug test. Passed it (of course), and left and then I immediately had to go really bad.

I also am completely weirded out by the TB skin test. They inject this stuff under your skin, so there is this dime sized bump, and then your body gradually absorbs it. I hope that's a good sign.

I am in love with the USA series Psych. I don't really know what I like so much about it. It's random and funny, though. And kind of mysterious, but not dark and depressing. I've also really enjoyed messing around on the show's website.

Because of my current Psych addiction I also stumbled across Super Chicken! Awesome, awesome, awesome. Cartoons used to be so much better.

When you find youself in danger,
When you're threatened by a stranger,
When it looks like you will take a lickin', (puk, puk, puk)
There is someone waiting,
Who will hurry up and rescue you,
Just Call for Super Chicken! (puk, ack!)

Fred, if you're afraid you'll have to overlook it,
Besides you knew the job was dangerous when you took it (puk, ack!)

He will drink his super sauce
And throw the bad guys for a loss
And he will bring them in alive and kickin' (puk, puk, puk)
There is one thing you should learn
When there is no one else to turn to
Call for Super Chicken! (puk, puk, puk)
Call for Super Chicken! (puk, ack!)

Also, I am hooked on The Beatles.

Mind Meld

2008-02-13T00:23:00.003-07:00

Somewhere between my dad waking me up at six and actually getting up I had a dream.

I was trapped on one side of a river and my only escape from a very strange world was on the other side. I also stumbled into something that I shouldn't have and somehow ended up with a small symbol etched on my arm. As I was trying to find my way over the river, which was not only deep itself, but had very steep sides, I came across a shape shifting guy that knew how to remove the symbol from my arm. It involve a strange creature the size and shape of a large marble that rolled itself across my skin and then returned to the shape shifter and placed the symbol on his arm instead. He was covered in all sorts of these strange markings.

Somehow I came to the conclusion that the only way to get across the river was by becoming covered in these symbols. I was immediately attacked by the marble things and was coated in small blue etchings. Then I flew to the other side of the river.

Oddly enough, once on the other side of the river I met Spock (I'm a nerd ok?) who informed me that I couldn't leave this place with these markings on me. He then proceeded to do the Vulcan Mind Meld on me (yeah I wasn't too enthused about that), at which point I lost consciousness (yes, while dreaming).

When I came to the symbols were all along the river bank etched into stones and I was surrounded by many Star Trek characters, and other characters from sci-fi fame. Spock told me that I had defiled their sacred river and I would have to atone for my crimes! I had the choice between being stabbed to death or to not speak until the next full moon. If I spoke I would immediately die. For some reason this all made sense and I agreed to it. (Now everyone knows that although I think Spock is awesome, I am afraid of him murdering me for some unknown reason, that is still somehow logical).

I woke up because my mom wanted me to come make waffles for breakfast. I was still in the middle of the discussion about me dying when I woke up, so I was still somehow convinced that I would die if I said anything. It took me until I was dressed and had my contacts in to I realize that it wasn't all real and I could talk if I wanted.

The full moon aspect makes sense, as does Spock (somewhat) and shape shifters. What I don't understand is how my not speaking meant anything.

Swimmers and Chests

2008-02-08T00:13:00.000-07:00

So today my little brother was getting ready for his swim team's district meet. This involved shaving his legs. Remembering some of the injuries he sustained from this last year, I offered him advice and a fresh razor.

When he was done, I found out that he had also shaved his arms. Ok it gets weirder.

Later today as I was chatting with a friend online, he walks into my room with his shirt pulled up, rubbing his stomach. After a few awkward moments I asked, "did you shave your stomach?"

To which he replied, "not very well!"

This is all very odd considering that my little brother has so much hair on the top of his head and he practically refuses to cut it, but he'll shave most of his body for a swim meet? He points out that he will be wearing a swim cap for this meet. This isn't the weirdest incidence surround swimmers and their dedication to their sport.

At school there are a couple of guys that play water polo. They used to swim for regular meets and stuff at their high school. One of them related a story about one day in school where his teacher sent him to the principal's office because she was afraid he was worshiping Satan. As it happened the guys on his school swim team had the tradition of buzzing their initials into their hair the week before districts or state. This guy's name is Scott, so he was going around with a big S on his head. Granted, Scott self-proclaimedly does not have a soul, so perhaps his teacher wasn't too far off.

My friend Carly would argue that we should put up with the oddities surrounding swimmers because "they have nice chests." Carly notices chests. I've known Carly for long enough, that whenever I see a guy with his shirt of I almost always think of her, usually my thoughts go somewhere along the lines of "that guy was hot . . . Carly would have liked that." Yeah, disturbing and possibly problematic later on.

Carly is also a huge tennis fan. Watching tennis with her is tons of fun. You get a nice running commentary on everybody's form. Tennis form and otherwise. :P

Thank you swimmers and Carly, for making my life a little more interesting.

Giant Killer Tumbleweed

2008-01-21T23:59:00.000-07:00

I left for home yesterday morning. My dad and I left my brother's house around ten in the morning, expecting (or hoping) to get home around midnight. The stretch between Salt Lake City and Ontario, OR went smoothly, and we made excellent time with few mishaps or problems.

Unless you count the twenty or so deer carcasses we saw within a five mile stretch of road. Which really only makes you wonder if there are any deer left to hit, so not really a big worry.

As we got near LaGrande, OR we ran into a few icy patches on the road, which I dealt with calmly (due to the fact that I've only experienced driving on icy roads a few times and don't really know what I'm up against). The mountain passes went slower and we began loosing the time we had gained changing time zones. On the final downhill stretch before Pendleton and dry roads we got stuck in traffic that was backed up for 6 miles due to a couple of semis getting into a wreck at the bottom of the mountain. Shortly after we had stopped we were nearly rear ended by one of the crazies that didn't stop to consider how snow packed roads would affect his stopping time. Luckily we were able to pull up quite a bit and they were able to turn quite a bit otherwise the two hour delay would have been a little more exciting.

Yes that's right, two hours we were stuck on that mountain, and it took about an hour and a half to get off the mountains and to dry roads. At this point it was 10 o'clock and four hours from home.

I drove for a couple of hours and was attacked by giant tumbleweed. There was one as big as me! Or maybe it was two tumbleweeds that were hooked together. It was weird how it disintegrated as soon as I hit it.

We also had the adventure of stopping at a rest area to sleep for a few hours before making a break for home. We were easily the only passenger vehicle stopped there for more than a bathroom break.

All in all, we didn't get home until 5 am Pacific Time. I'm sleepy just thinking about it.

The Hair Affair

2008-01-05T02:00:00.000-07:00

A week or so before Halloween I had the brilliant idea to be Alice Cullen (from Stephenie Meyer's Twilight) for Halloween. This involved getting my recently decided to grow out hair cut, and coloring it black. This was kind of cool in my mind, on many levels. Firstly, I have often jokingly said I was going to color my hair black. Secondly, the costume itself was very subtle and I doubt that many people would notice my amazing fangs if it weren't for the black hair being such a tie-in to my character.

I had initially thought to get a temporary color, but I have a friend that did that and instead of just washing out it turned her hair purple (Anne of Green Gables anyone?) and I didn't really think that purple would be a good idea. Then the idea was that since my hair grows fast I would just color it, and then let it grow out. So I colored my hair, which was rather uneventful in and of itself, but then liked it enough (and got enough positive feedback) that I decided to recolor my roots when they had grown to the point that I couldn't ignore them anymore. That said, I have never noticed how fast my hair grows until I did this. So when school got out for Christmas I went home as a black-haired red-head. Needless to say, my parents and my grandma weren't very enthused about it and as it is only hair and not a lifestyle decision, or a pressing need to have black hair, I eventually gave in to my mom's pressuring to change it.

We juggled around some various options. Ranging from getting it stripped, to getting a weave, to doing something to it ourselves and eventually settled with the latter. Being the ever observant mother that she is, my mom suggested that we try a product she had seen called Color Oops, or something of that sort. We did that and my hair became an odd sort of weird orange-y brown mixed with black and my natural reddish roots. So we went to Walgreen's (on a very icy day, in which I did some parking lot acrobatics ending on my hands and knees), and got some more and did it again. This time it ended with a reddish something that didn't really look all that bad except for the stubborn black that remained on the top of my head. We then intended to color it a cinnamon brown and leave it at that, perhaps getting a weave later on. It turned a nearly black brown, except for the top of my head which remained black.

So we went to the beauty college. They wouldn't touch it, convinced that with all the stuff I'd done to it so recently it would melt or fall out. Great. Giving up and moving on and resolving never to color my hair black again (unless a large sum of money was involved), I went home.

Then today my mom was telling her hair stylist about the whole fiasco, and she wanted me to come in. So I went in and we discussed several options. She bleached my hair to a lovely chestnut brown.

So over the course of the week my hair has been stripped, dyed, bleached, and washed about thirty times. It's cleaner than it's ever been. The odd thing is that through all this my hair hasn't decided it's had enough and fallen out.

How many colors can my hair be in a week?

Summer

2008-01-04T01:05:00.000-07:00

Gentle breezes.
No strings, no ties,
Only beaches and carnivals.
Drifting in an aimless canoe,
Tip of a fishing rod.
Green shoots of Spring
Darken slowly into amber.
Sun glowing cheeks and rainbows;
Clouds never gray the sky.
Smiles and laughter,
Mere echoes of the past,
And visions lull the dreamers
Back to sleep.
Here in Winter's cold embrace,
Though Autumn still and silent,
A sweet recollection smooths a face
And the last kiss of Summer lingers.

New Year

2008-01-03T01:18:00.000-07:00

So it's a new year. A whole year has come and gone. I see a lot of people making New Year's Resolutions and posting them on their blogs, and it kind of makes me feel like I should too, but I feel kind of dumb. There are so many things I would like to do, or that I would like to do differently, but I'm one of those people that has a hard time if I make a huge list. It makes me feel overwhelmed, and then none of it happens. (I know you can be overwhelmed, and you can be underwhelmed, but is anyone ever just whelmed?*)

But then again, I also know that writing things down makes them more likely to happen, and that having it visible to others has the added benefit of people knowing what you are supposed to be doing so they can hold it over your head. So here's a few things I would like to accomplish this year:

1. I resolve to have an opinion. So many times I feel like my response when asked if I prefer one thing or the other is "I don't care" or "whichever." I feel so often like I say that more to eliminate the analytic process that then has to take place in my head, about which option I really prefer. Even after this process when I can clearly define that there is one option that is better than another I then have the tendency to feel that if I take the "better" option I am then ripping someone off. Silly, because more often than not the other person involved either doesn't have a preference or is giving me the courtesy to express my opinion in the matter. So I resolved to have an opinion (and share it).

2. I resolve to not be a pushover. This kind of goes along with the first one. I'm not going to let my feelings and wishes always be pushed aside. Not that this ever really happens, mostly because I don't usually express what I feel about various matters.

3. This is one that I've been trying to be better at all along, but now it's going to happen. I'm going to keep curfew better. And enforce it better. 'Nuff said.

4. I hesitate to add another one because I know that I'll have to add a fifth (odd number thing). I'm going to talk to people more. Like people I don't know very well. I'm going to go up to people and say hi, and ask how things are going. I'm not going to pretend that I didn't notice people and hope that they don't notice me. It's dumb, what's the worst that's going to happen from saying hi to someone?

5. I'm going to get organized. *cringe* Yeah, I know it sounds terrible. But I need to. Badly. This is the last one because I know it's going to be the hardest (which is saying a lot for an anti-social{not really}, easy-going, conflict-avoiding, night-owl). But I have it written down where the world can see it, and now I'll have to try to follow through, because everyone knows I'm supposed to.

So that's my New Year's Resolutions a few days late.

Max wants everyone to know that his New Year's Resolutions are to eat everything in sight, stay dry, and kick me out of his room.

*I think you can in Europe. :P Actually, whelmed means the same thing as overwhelmed, which seems like a waste of letters to always be saying overwhelmed when whelmed would work just as well. I'm pretty sure there are other crazy words similar in that regard. This further cements my belief that the English language is terribly ridiculous. Ten points to anyone that can name the movie that I was referencing.

Intruders!

2007-12-29T02:55:00.000-07:00

Even though I'm at home for Christmas and New Year's and I happen to be staying in my old bedroom, I'm feeling a lot like and intruder. My cat, Max, seems to think that he is being very generous to allow me to be in HIS room.

He spends the practically the entire day lounging around on my bed. Then at night he insists on my attention being either on him or nothing. I can't spend more than a few minutes on the computer or reading a book without him getting right up in my face, purring loudly as he walks across my keyboard (very delicately, as though he knows he's being a twerp) or laying across my book. It's not enough for him that I pet him and scratch his chin and behind his ears while I do whatever (even though this makes it drastically more complicated to type and turn pages), I have to focus on just him. When I turn off the computer or close the book he immediately returns to his spot right smack in the middle of the bed.

I would also like it to be noted that cats (and small children) somehow manage to take up more space on a bed than should be physically possible. I argue the the physics of a bed are entirely different than normal physics, otherwise someone please explain.

Or perhaps the very nature of a bed (being a catalyst to enter the dream world) is by definition part of an alternate reality.

It's late. I'm tired. I'm also starting to type dyslexically.

Seeing the World from the Inverse

2007-12-26T01:37:00.000-07:00

I was in an airplane a few days ago. It was my first real opportunity to fly and sit in a window seat. It's odd to me that flight is possible. Don't get me wrong, I understand the physics of it. I know why it works, and that makes sense, but it still seems so wrong. And I even enjoy flying. But it's like one of those dreams. The ones that seem real, and you want them to be real, but you know they aren't. It's kind of like that, I suppose. There I am, and it all starts off ok. I am sitting there in a normal position safely buckled in, kind of like a car ride. And then I start moving. Suddenly, I am going faster than I have gone in any car, ever. And then I am off the ground. And it's just not right. Fun, and kind of cool, but wrong.

Eventually you are going through the clouds. If it's a really cloudy day you are looking at a backwards world. The clouds are all beneath you. A big layer of glorious pillow soft looking white. And it's all under you. If you care to you can look up. And that, my friends, is where the really sight to be seen is. Upwards, there is a color not normally known. It's this deep glorious exquisite color of blue. It's not the Crayola sky blue. Crayon sky blue is a cheap washed out imitation in comparison. It's this wonderful blue of the deepest ocean, or a perfect sapphire. You can almost see stars peeping through, it's that dark of a blue. And for about an hour, I wondered why green was my favorite color. Because if I could be continually surrounded in that wonderful azure blanket I think I would be happy forever.

I don't understand what bothers some people about flying. Aside from the outright wrongness of it all. I don't know why some people have trouble sleeping on the plane. To me the sound of the engines is kind of comforting. It's this soothing continuous purr that drowns out everything else. There you are floating in a pure blanket of cerulean. You are separated from the world below by a downy soft looking ocean of cloud. You might as well be one of the last people left. For all you know you are.

But then, for about fifteen minutes during the descent into Portland, you are drowning in a sea of grey and white. Everywhere you look there is only cloud, and you can't help but think that the pilot is going to crash you into a mountainside. But then, right before you are sure you will never see anything again, and you have begun to suspect you have gone blind, you break through the clouds that hang over Oregon in the winter. And you remember why green is your favorite color. Because suddenly you are awash in a jungle of it. Shade after shade pops out at you. As wonderful as the infinite and eternal expanse of gorgeous sapphire was, the forest of chartreuse and emerald is even more breath-taking. While the sky high above the clouds and the world was the perfect blue, the color that the hero's eyes always are in romantic stories, the variety, the limitless selection of shades, outweighs it.

Green is comforting, it's alive, it's breathing. And while the blue of that sky will make you feel like you are the only person within the atmosphere, the green of the trees and the grass and the rivers will remind you that you aren't. It wraps you up, and carries you home.

Scotland Here I Come!

2007-12-19T00:04:00.000-07:00

So I've been thinking lately about my obsession with Scotland. It's rather unexplained. I haven't read a lot about it, or seen a lot of movies about it. Basically, all I have to go on is that kilts are hot (or they can be), bagpipes are amazing, ancient castles are cool, and the accents are awesome. I don't even really know that much about Scotland. Aside from where it is on a map, and that's it's green and pretty there.

I finally decided to do some investigating. Part of this was inspired by an early Christmas present from my roommate. A book entitled "My Heart's in the Lowlands: Ten Days in Bonny Scotland" by Liz Curtis Higgs. It's awesome. It's basically a step by step description of a trip to Scotland. The cover is gorgeous and it has some cool illustrations.

I also remembered that two years ago while doing a project for a genealogy class, I ran across some people from Scotland in my ancestry. I recall it being just one or two and that the research for that line ended there. So I set out to do some work.

I remembered it was on my paternal grandfather's side of the family. From there I didn't have much else. I set to work on familysearch.org to solve the mystery. I found that I am related to Henry I King of England, whose father was William the Conqueror. I am also related to Charlemange, some Norwegian, Swedish, Danish, and Finish royalty, a bunch of Welsh people, and bunch of French people (which I was rather unaware of, so a bit of a shock there, I'll have to stop making fun of the French), some Italian royalty, and oddly enough, Old King Cole. I don't remember his real name, as I was laughing when I saw the "Old King Coel" part. He lived sometime around the year 125. I was getting really frustrated to not be finding any Scots.

I finally in an act of desperation typed in my great-grandmother Josephine Wing. And lo and behold! Scotland!

It took me three hours of searching to discover one of the coolest things (I think) about my ancestry. I am a descendant of Malcolm III King of Scotland, and a bunch of other Scottish people, (many of them from Galloway, which is in the Lowlands) mostly royalty. Why is this so amazing? First off, I can finally claim with confidence Scottish ancestry. Second, I am not only part Scottish, I am part Scottish royalty. Third, Malcolm III was fictionalized in Shakespeare's play Macbeth, which is one of my favorites.

This explains many things. Maybe it is my Scottish blood that is calling out for me to return to my homeland. That is why I am so darn obsessed with something I know so little about. It also supports my obsession with Shakespeare. Hey, it's in my blood. I also have a pretty good excuse to go there now. I could do more research on that line. It only goes about ten generations prior to Malcolm III.

Mostly though, I'm just happy that I can say I'm part Scottish. It's like a dream come true.

Christmas!

2007-12-07T23:13:00.000-07:00

I need a Christmas tree. Every time I go to Macey's it's almost more than I can stand to drive by the Big Lots and Rite-aid window seeing all the trees for sale. I really need a Christmas tree.

Despite redecorating our apartment a few weeks ago (which definitely did make it feel more welcoming), it is still terribly lacking in the Christmas spirit department. The two strands of white lights strung around the room hardly add any seasonal delight, and will probably stay up until Charlotte moves from the apartment whenever that happens. And the small advent calendar (which is continually being forgotten) is not nearly prominent enough.

There should be holly and mistletoe. A Christmas tree (which I believe I have already pointed out) covered with lights and glass ornaments. I'm tempted to string lights on the small bonsai money tree plant, but then it seems kind of flimsy for ornaments to hand on it. There should be music playing constantly on a (nonexistent) stereo. And Christmas movies.

I'm not going home until two days before Christmas. I'm going to miss out on all the tree decorating fun, but I'll probably be around to take it down. I miss hiking out in the mountains and cutting down a real tree. The piney smell of the tree, mmmm.

I miss the anticipation that kept me awake every night for weeks before Christmas, I can't afford that anymore. I miss having a real fire burning in the wood stove, and the whole room smelling of woodsmoke. Heck, I even miss going out in the rain to get wood for it. The rain is infinitely better than the snow! It wasn't ever even that cold.

I need a Christmas tree.

Dancing (not with the stars, but that's ok)

2007-11-29T23:34:00.000-07:00

I'm taking a social dance class this semester. It's tons of fun. Tonight I got to go take the Medals Exam for the Foxtrot and Cha-cha, and I got this nifty little pin and a neat certificate.

The Medals Exam is basically you go, you dance, and these judges give you a score on a national level. It's pretty cool. You dance with the instructor of your dance class (or the TA, however that works out), and you hope that you can remember the Foxtrot steps because you learned them all so long ago. And you hope that your instructor (or TA) actually knows what they are doing because otherwise you are pretty much screwed. I didn't have to worry about this. My instructor is a pretty awesome guy, and he can dance (you gotta hope right? He IS teaching the class!)

So I medaled on the bronze level (for Dance 180) in the Foxtrot and the Cha-cha. And I can skip out on the Swing final. Yeah, I don't know how it works out that if you do well on those two dances you can skip out on the Swing. So now all that's keeping me from knowing I have an excellent grade in that class is the Waltz test which takes place on Monday.

Oh yeah, and just because I was already nervous about my test, I got this crazy little twitch in my eye. Because that just helps everything so much, you know? It went away as soon as I got my score. *mutters* stupid nerves . . .

Dancing makes guys hotter. Just as a note.

Mail Order

2007-11-26T21:15:00.000-07:00

Ok, so I spent Thanksgiving at a friend's house. Mauri is going to Scotland next summer. Actually she is going to Ireland, England, Wales, and France, and will be spending a day in Edinburgh, Scotland. Can I just say that I am more jealous over that one day than I am over everything else? I mean, what is even in Scotland? Why do I have this insane obsession with Scotland? The world may never know. Let's just go with it.

So because we are crazy and weird, Mauri and I decided to see if you can get a mail order husband. Preferably from Scotland. Alas! 'Tis not possible. At least not as far as we could tell. No mail order grooms to be found, let alone Scottish ones. Sad day.

I was talking about this with Seth and Charlotte, and we pointed out that there are some definite drawbacks to buying a guy. So we decided that instead I can buy an army of mail order brides and they can be my slaves and make knock off Nikes. I don't know how we reached this decision. It was odd. Seth said I would be the Goddess of Discord and Lord of the Cobblers.

This is all very random. I told Mauri to bring me back a Scottish guy. Too bad she only has one day to find him.

I'll Meet Your Belt and Raise You a T-shirt . . .

2007-10-23T00:08:00.001-06:00

Last night my roommate and I were over at a guys' apartment because we were going to play game of some sort. Through the course of waiting for everyone to show up, it got to the point where it was just me and her sitting there in the apartment, with no one that lived there present. Just then, Bishop showed up looking for the engaged tenant, Mike.

Bishop: So are you just moving in here?

Me: No. We were going to play card games or something and then everyone just kind of drifted off and it ended up just being me and Char.

Bishop: Well as long as you aren't going to play Texas Hold 'em that's fine.

Thinking it was odd that he would veto one specific type of poker and not mention the others... Me: No Texas Hold 'em, OK. Can we play other kinds of poker?

Bishop: Sure, as long as you keep your clothes on!

At which point I died laughing.

The Wonders of Technology

2007-10-17T23:03:00.001-06:00

I love email. It's amazing. It's better than a letter (other than the sheer joy of getting a letter in the mail) because it's nearly instantaneous. It's better than a phone call because you can really think through what you are saying and word everything exactly right. It's better than instant messenger because there are no long pauses while you compose the perfect message. You don't have to know that the recipient is right there waiting for the message because you know they will get it eventually.

And it's great when you just get the urge to hear from someone that you haven't talked to in a while. A phone call in that situation might be a little odd, but an email? It's so easy! "How's it going? I haven't heard from you in forever! Such and such is going on in my life etc."

Not to mention that it's practically free. If you have access to a library you can have free email. Otherwise you might have to pay for the internet connection (hey I wouldn't complain about having internet!) and you can send music and videos over it. No stamps, no long waits, and no awkward pauses.

I can't wait until they can figure out how to send other stuff over the internet. Like people. Or groceries. Instantaneous travel and grocery shopping. Brilliant.

PS Some drawbacks would include that it doesn't offer the vocal tone that a face-to-face or phone conversation affords, so that does leave some speculation as to intended meaning at times. And another would be that if it's urgent you better make sure they know that it's on it's way.

How Did This Happen?

2007-10-11T12:14:00.000-06:00

I've been kind of down the last day or two. Here's why:

I got a wedding announcement in the mail today. At first I was excited to get it (I had been expecting it for about a month now), but after opening it, reading through it, and thinking that my friend looked really cute in the photo, I went to hang it on my fridge. I reached for a magnet and the first one I found was a picture of the Hawaii temple. It was all I could do to keep from crying. My friend isn't getting married in the temple.

How did this happen? I've been asking myself this question for the last while. How did someone so set on having everything the gospel had to offer, settle for a marriage outside of the temple, outside of the church, and an extramarital pregnancy?

It's sad. For years we talked about where we wanted to get married, which temple, and all that. So many hopes and dreams. She, our other friends, and I would jokingly say "marriage first, then kids," every time the topic of children came up. It was one of our biggest jokes as teenagers. I can't say that anymore. It brings too many sad memories with it. Memories that should be happy, but are sad because of reality.

It's sad because the idea of being pushed into a marriage, something that should be so happy and joyful, because of something so preventable, yet so significant, freaks me out. I never want to be in that situation. To feel like any part of that decision is taken away? No thanks.

It's sad because when I say something about it to my friends here, they try to be optimistic and say things like "maybe he'll join the church," but I know the odds of that. They aren't happy odds. Maybe it will happen, but it's not encouraging. We can't live our lives on those kind of odds.

It's sad because I don't know if it's going to last. She was raised by her dad and her step-mom, and saw her mom and step-dad twice a year. How will she know how to make it work? How did people with divorced parents know? How will she know how to be a mother? She's never really had one. I just wish I knew how this happened so I could fix it.

Angel Tears

2007-09-13T21:08:00.000-06:00

I weep for the children.
The dear ones that are lost.
The soft footsteps in a dream.
The whispered kisses on a cheek.
I weep for the ones that are lost.

I weep for the fathers.
The gentle voice that is cracking.
The strong arms that are empty.
The loving hands that aren't held.
I weep for the voice that is cracking.

I weep for the mothers.
The aching hearts that are breaking.
The eyes that are empty from crying.
The yearning arms that hang low.
I weep for the hearts that are breaking.

I weep for the children.
The angel tears that show,
The love that is always given.
The ones there to break the fall.

More Pepsi?

2007-06-16T00:07:00.000-06:00

Today was my fourth day of work at Health Plan Operations. As I have told numerous people before, my job consists of entering numbers into a computer, sending the information to an analyst (someone with a real job) and then I take the sheet of paper that I was copying the information from and add another number, the claim number. That is the basics of my job. Can you read? Can you recognize numbers? Can you remember what F7, F3, F5, and F12 do? Then you can do my job.

Today was different. First off, we were having a Hawaiian themed lunch party today so everyone was wearing Hawaiian shirts, sarongs and leis (who's gonna wear the lie now? That's for you, Mauri). And today we sent out checks to the various hospitals and health care centers to pay for people's drug rehab, hospital stays, ear infections and bladder control problems. My new motto? Don't do drugs, rehab is expensive.

Checks were fun. I held in my hands a check for $62,000 and wished with all the fiber of my being that it was made out to me rather than Corvallis Clinic. I was also introduced to a very pleasant machine. The folding machine. It's amazing, and possibly my best friend. You turn it on, choose how you want your letters folded, and there it goes. In less than five minutes 400 sheets of paper were folded into lovely letter sized thirds. I simply added checks and stuffed the envelopes and sent them on the next step to mailing. In a conversation with a friend about how awesome the folding machine was, my friend asked, "can it fold a paper crane?" I told him that I didn't know, but that he was welcome to come and fold papers for me next week. Though I doubted he could do it as fast.

There are over fifty people working in my department, and as you can probably tell no one's job is all that riveting. People get bored easily, and they tend to deal with it in interesting ways. Whether I was too job focused the last three days to notice, or whether Friday certain inhibitions were lost I can't tell, but the three ladies that work in the back are absolutely hilarious.

Today, to break the monotony, they wrote poetry.

A walk in the woods
A bear pooped
Nobody heard.

(Someone then replied, "and that's the epitome of loneliness.")

They also decided to find how many different ways they could wear their sarongs. Then they modeled them. Later, as the shift was ending, one of my coworker's husband showed up. He started talking about sarongs and how a guy would wear one. Another coworker asked, "would you wear underwear underneath?" (honestly, where was that question coming from??) He replied, "I don't wear underwear, I wear panties." Which is something, I'm sure no one wanted to know.

That all spurred another conversation which ended with one woman laughing so hard that her Pepsi came out her nose. Aloha!

International Woman of Mystery

2007-06-11T00:32:00.000-06:00

First off, a disclaimer. I am not usually one to follow fashion trends, or go all out for the latest style.

The other day I was in the waiting room at the hospital while my grandpa underwent surgery. I had forgotten to bring a book, or something of the sort to keep myself occupied during the long wait, so I found myself reading some sort of celebrity gossip magazine. While doing so I stumbled across a picture of an absolutely fabulous outfit. On further examination it was discovered that I had all the articles necessary to pull of said outfit, but for one item, which was easily substituted.

It was all black, consisting of a straight knee-length skirt, a turtleneck sweater, a trench coat, and a pair of black heels, which I didn't have. I had boots though.

Now, this would typically be a very wintry ensemble, but I know that living in Oregon it can easily seem like winter in the middle of June. Luckily for me an opportunity presented itself today as it managed to rain all yesterday, and continue into today. Perfect trench coat weather.

As I was driving home from church, I went past a gas station teaming with bikers. My friend and I laughed over the fact that I would almost fit right in, in my black trappings.

My mom said I looked like Mata Hari. I wonder if she realizes that Mata Hari was an exotic dancer and courtesan, accused of being a spy for the Germans during WWI. I don't think I looked like an exotic dancer, though spy might fit the bill.

I wish I could go looking like a spy all the time. That at least would add some inkling of interest into my life. Or I could always run away with the biker gang.

Mutual Corruption Society

2007-04-13T01:23:00.000-06:00

I was talking to a friend on IM today. During our conversation we touched on the fact that we've both become corrupt. I take that back. The entire conversation was centered around our mutual corruption. Please take into account that this was not all we talked about. Also notice how we relate children's stories to our lives.

This has been edited to protect all involved parties.

friend: so, I found some three leaf clovers the other day and it made me so happy because
I can never find them on this side of Oregon
they were growing in my back yard
along with some dandelions
which are also normally rare here
now all I need to make my comfort zone here complete is daisies
me:. . . I . . .um . . .
friend: :D
Mary is now speechless
me: . . . yeeeeeeaaaaaaahhh
OK, I need to be normal, that just made me think of something I shouldn't have
friend: what?
me: well
friend: yes
me: stretching out yeah to that, made me think of Ye-Haw
friend: which is?
me: which made me think of cowboys
Can't . . . breathe . . . laughing . . . too . . . hard . . .
friend: wow
cowboys remind me of horses and unless you are recalling an especially fun time you had
falling off of a horse, I don't follow that last track on your train of thought
me: huh?
friend: cowboys?
me: what?
like why cowboys make me laugh?
friend: yes
me: oh, pictures on facebook
friend: ah ha ha
got ya
uh huh, yes
quite understandable when the cowboy happens to be sporting the emperor's best
me: you know it
actually
probably better than the emperor's best
friend: depending on the emperor
me: considering I've always thought of the emperor as an old man
a fat old man
friend: he could have been an especially stupid jock of an emperor
what about that?
me: well, maybe
but in our case he knew he was practically naked, therefore still better, if only on the
intelligence factor
this isn't helping
I'm racking up more bad karma
friend: maybe they just messed up the story and being oblivious was his excuse for his attire

Perhaps this would be more understandable if I were to include an example of what we are talking about. This is not going to happen so I will just explain. A very interesting friend of mine borrowed a cowboy hat to use as part of his disguise during a ward activity. He dressed up in jeans and red Texas t-shirt and this hat. (We were playing Where's Waldo in the Provo Towne Centre, and he was one of the people we needed to find). At any rate, later on when left to his own devices he got the brilliant idea of dressing up as the Naked Cowboy from Manhattan. For those of you that don't know the Naked Cowboy is a guy that goes around wearing nothing but cowboy boots, a cowboy hat, and briefs. He carries a guitar. My friend plays guitar. He also plays water polo on the intramural team.

At any rate, this friend has very little shame. He dressed up like the Naked Cowboy, wearing boots, a hat, and a yellow speedo. He then got some friends to take pictures of him dressed this way. One of those pictures is now his profile pic on Facebook. Needless to say I was quite startled to get on Facebook one morning and be greeted with four or so pictures with a caption saying "____ has been tagged in four pictures." That is what we were referring to in our conversation.

I have been corrupted. I came to BYU, this nice, safe, Mormon school, and I've become corrupted. Very little that anyone could say or do would shock me now. That is all.

On a side note. I talked to another friend today and she said, "your life is like a real live drama." I told her it was more like a tragicomedy. The bad end unhappily, the good end unluckily, and it's all played off for laughs for those observing. Yes, yes, I know. Sad, but true.

me: with friends like you who needs enemies?
friend: like I said, this is a mutual corruption society

I need to write on here way more often.

Answering Machine

2007-03-19T00:32:00.000-06:00

I answer the phone in my apartment a lot. And the fact of the matter is that it's very rarely for me. We also have caller ID so I could realistically screen all the calls and not answer the phone when my roommates are gone. Then the machine could get it and I wouldn't have to remember to tell someone that someone called them. But I don't, and I don't really know why.

The funny thing is that when it's for Carly she usually isn't there, so her sister (that's who it usually is) ends up calling her cell phone anyway. Why not call the cell phone first and then calling the apartment if she is home?

I don't really know how to simplify things when it's for Charlotte, because she doesn't have her cell phone with her half the time. She is a recent convert to the cell phone world. We tell her that she's going to get kidnapped or something and we won't know because we'll try to call her phone to find out where she is and hear her phone ring in the other room.

Then there are my friends that don't have cell phones. It's always really odd to pick up the phone and have it be for Seth or Pavio. I mean, really, they don't live here. ~~Well, Seth practically does.~~ Sometimes I want to tell Sabrina, Seth's sister, that I know he's here a lot but please tell me this is the last number you tried. And if someone is trying to find Pavio and he's not with Alex or Mike or at his apartment then he's not here either. And both Alex and Mike have cell phones.

I know the phone isn't for me, and I don't like talking on the phone, but I still jump up when it rings. I'll be hanging out with friends and the phone will ring and I'll jump up saying, "it's not for me."

I've come to expect that with the apartment phone. And it really doesn't matter that much because I've got my cell phone, and anyone that wants to talk to me usually calls that first.

BUT . . .

Saturday I was on the way to Los Hermanos, a Mexican restaurant. I was riding with Stephanie, Emily, and Scott. My cell phone rang and it said it was Alex who was riding in the car behind us. I answer it and am met with silence. So I say "hello" again and I hear Mike's girlfriend say, "can I talk to Scott?"

It boils down to Scott making faces at Mike, who was driving, and making "call me" motions to Reagan, Mike's girlfriend. So she did, but Scott doesn't have a cell phone either. So she used Alex's phone to call mine. I handed the phone to Scott. And then she hung up on him.

Move over Abby

2007-03-16T01:42:00.000-06:00

Dear Abby this, dear Abby that. Sometimes I think I could give Abby a run for her money. The things I get asked for advice on would probably stump even that renowned guru. You might not think it possible, but the number of things I have been asked about range from what someone might like for their birthday to marriage and pregnancy.

I kid you not. I have been asked for advice about:
Birthday presents
Christmas presents
Telling parents she is moving out
How to know if a boy likes her
How to know if a girl likes him
Should she go to class or finish homework
How to flirt
What to do if he likes a girl that doesn't like him back
How to get over someone
If she is being a brat or not
Telling parents about car trouble that happened when her boyfriend was driving
Should she like someone or not
Should she play tennis with him
Should she go out with him
Should he go out with her
Long distance relationships
If she should tell him that she likes him
How to tell someone that he's not interested
Should she tell her parents about who she's dating
She hates her roommates, what should she do
His roommate smells like fish, how can he get rid of the smell
What should they say in whatever situation
She's pregnant, should she tell her parents, and if so how
She's engaged, should she tell her parents
Is she being stupid
She's confused about her boyfriend, what should she do
How do you spell . . .
Should she give her baby up for adoption
Wanting a divorce
Talking to parents about whatever really
Self-confidence issues
Compulsive lying
What shoes should she wear
Dating in general
What book to read
Why does my little brother hate him
Sharing the gospel
Is it silly if she gets married next year
The list could go on and on.

All in all, I don't mind being asked for advice. It's just that I find it funny when I'm asked about things I have absolutely no clue about. I have been on one date in my entire life, so that should pretty much nix any relationship advice. I depend quite strongly on spell-check. I never know what to buy people for Christmas or birthdays. I'm not the greatest missionary. The only things on this list that I feel even somewhat qualified to advise on is the shoes thing and the book thing. And maybe about if they are being stupid or not, I'm usually pretty good at that one.

The most frustrating thing about it is that I feel like despite my inexperience with most of these things, I feel like I give pretty sound advice. Which would be great if the people asking for advice would actually take it to heart. Unfortunately, I find that usually they ignore my brilliant advice and then find out later that it was the exact right thing to do. Of course as far as what book to read or which shoes to wear goes, it doesn't really matter, but on the big things?

All I'm saying is that if you are pregnant, then yes you should tell your parents. They didn't mean it when they said they would kick you out if you ever got pregnant without being married first. Yes you should tell your parents that you are getting married. Yes you are being a brat when you ask for a second iPod for Christmas because you want a pink one. When you are out with your boyfriend and the car hits a rock in the road that dents your frame, oil pan, and gives your car a flat, you should not tell your parents that it was your boyfriend driving at the time.

I mean, sometimes it is better if they just don't know.

Moonlight Madness

2007-03-08T13:34:00.000-07:00

My roommate, Char, and I were talking a few months ago about hiking the "Y." We decided that it would be so cool to go at night, preferably when the moon is out. Being the forward thinking people we are we set it for March. It should be thawed out by then right? Well . . . no actually, but at least it wouldn't be quite as cold.

We mention our plan to our friends, Seth, Alex, and Pavio. Set the day for the first full moon, (I think there is a second one this month). As fate would have it, it happened to be on a Saturday. Of course, our plans are never set in stone, so we are unsure if it will actually happen until 9:30 pm the night of the adventure. Pavio isn't able to make it, but the other four of us pile into Char's little white car and we drive to the parking lot beneath the "Y."

The parking lot is pretty full of cars, something we think to be quite odd. The four of us set off, past the fence and onwards up the icy and snow covered trail. I'm not a particularly fast hiker. I like to take my time and enjoy the view and the beauty, but my friends are determined to get to the top as fast as possible, so they keep encouraging me to walk faster.

About fifteen minutes into our hike we pass some people on their way back down. "You are almost there," they tell us.

Fifteen minutes later:
"It's not that much further," says Seth, the only experience "Y" mountain hiker among us.

Four more switchbacks later, he says it again. "It's really not that much further." The rest of us are getting tired of hearing this, as the trail is getting steeper with each turn we make.

Finally, the trail splits into two sections. It looks like one trail goes the more direct way and the other continues with the switchbacks. We opt for the direct route as we are all sick of the blasted switchbacks at this point.

We find ourselves at a dead end. We look around in the moonlight and are able to make out a trail straight up from where we are. The snow is several inches deep with a nice crust on the top. We climb straight up.

Several yards and a few near death experiences later we find ourselves at the actual trail. Looking down to where we just climbed from we realize that we just hiked the "Y", literally hiked straight up the "Y".

We sit there on the trail, the warmth that we produced while climbing slowly slips away as we eat granola bars and drink water. All of Provo lies before us, lights and cars beautifully spread out across the valley.

My inner wolf calls to me and I take the opportunity to howl at the moon, (this is actually a running joke with me and my friends. They say I am a werewolf because I always know when the full moon is. I don't know about that, but I do like the moon).

The trip back down is faster. I am in the back for a while, but only to judge how slick the trail is. When the path is clear of ice and snow I let myself run down the frozen trail. The moonlight casts shadows across the ground, dancing in the brush and making patterns in the snow. The air is cool and crisp, but a hat becomes too warm just as it did on the way up. We pass another group of people, and we pass on the message of "you're almost there." This time at least they are a lot closer than when we heard it.

The parking lot is still full, which we can't figure out since we've only seen two other groups of people, each only big enough to fill one car. We climb back into the car, and drive back home.

It has been a night of moonlight and fun.

Cleaning Check Update

2007-02-24T13:50:00.000-07:00

We had our re-check yesterday. She walked through and was in an out in two minutes. Also, we found our elusive cookie sheet. It was under the stove. So maybe something good did come of this.

As a random thought, anyone that hasn't ever seen Mystery Science Theatre should check it out. It is weird, random, and hilarious.

Spite and Malice

2007-02-21T09:55:00.000-07:00

My apartment had cleaning checks today. We were supposed to have them yesterday, but since most of us were not getting back from the long weekend until Monday night I called to reschedule on Friday. The conversation went something like this:

Me: Hi! I'm calling from apartment 21 to reschedule our cleaning checks. It's just at a really bad time and I was wondering if we could change them.

Cleaning check person: I don't understand. You only have cleaning checks once a month so I don't understand why it should be a problem.

Me: Oh it's not that, it's just that most of are going out of town and we won't be back until late Monday night, and then we all have morning classes on Tuesday.

CCP: (sound of annoyance) Well, I can charge you the five dollar recheck fee and come on Wednesday.

Me: (And I'm thinking, who does she think she is?) Um, no. I don't see why we should have to pay a fee. It says right here on the sheet that if there is a problem with the time we just have to call and reschedule at least 24 hours in advance, and this is well over 24 hours. So I don't know what the problem is.

CCP: (Very annoyed voice) Well, I am going to have to call you back in about an hour. Is that alright?

Me: Yes that's fine.

Fifteen minutes later she calls back and very pleasantly says that she can come and check our apartments on Wednesday. Great.

So I make sure that my assignments are done before she's supposed to show up on Wednesday. My room is clean, the bathroom is clean and the floor is vacuumed. She shows up and goes through and . . . fails us all!

Please examine the facts. Our apartment is cleaner that it has been for the last two cleaning checks. Checks that we passed without a problem. Here are the reasons we failed.

Carly failed because the drawers in the refrigerator need to be wiped down. Um, right. At least the fridge isn't full of nasty food like it was for our last check.

Charlotte didn't actually fail, but that was because she actually grabbed the wrong cleaning assignment sheet. (There are four cleaning assignments, and only three people living here. Char accidentally grabbed the other bathroom assignment.) So Char passed, even though her bathroom didn't actually get cleaned this time around. The toilet wasn't cleaned because we don't have a toilet brush. I cleaned my toilet. I cleaned it with a paper towel, actually reaching my hand into the toilet to scrub off the grime. (Here's a question. Why is it impossible to get cold water out of the tap, but the water in the toilet is freezing?)

The extra cleaning assignment (the one that was really Charlotte's) failed because the oven drawer didn't get pulled out so the floor underneath could be cleaned. Never mind that the oven itself hasn't been cleaned since before we've lived here, the area under the oven wasn't clean.

And I failed because the bathtub wasn't clean. There's something you have to understand about these tubs. They are impossible to get clean. There is a layer of grime that is permanently embedded into the surface of the tub. I've spent hours trying to clean the tub before and it ends up looking about the same as when I only spend a few minutes on it. It isn't any dirtier than it's been since we moved in. Granted it looks dirty, but the same person does our cleaning checks every month, so you'd think they would remember that it hasn't ever looked any better.

Let's take a trip back to December of last year. A few weeks before finals we had our last cleaning check of the year. Now, we all somehow managed to forget what day they were supposed to be on, so when the person showed up our apartment was a disaster. I had clothing scattered all across the floor in my room, and my bed was a disaster. The bathroom hadn't even been wiped down, let alone scrubbed.

We passed. There was one comment about the cleaning checks in January being harder, but that was it. We passed and no one had really done anything.

I think it's all just spite. We inconvenienced someone. Heaven forbid they walk over to the apartment on a different day. Never mind that the Riv hasn't held up their end of the deal either. We were promised a hot tub. We went without one the entire time. They are just finally starting to put one in. They charge us $10 a month for a phone we don't use and Internet that is supposed to be high speed but moves at a snails pace and knocks us offline.

But whatever. It's mostly just annoying. If I had known we were going to fail anyway, I would have slept in today.

An explanation of the title

2007-02-20T12:57:00.000-07:00

In greek mythology, Eris is the goddess of discord. One day while watching Sinbad: Legend of the Seven Seas with some friends I made the comment that "Eris is so cool. I wish I was the goddess of discord!" And it kind of stuck. So every time I make a comment that is more unusual or disturbing than normal I get the response "yeah, well you're the goddess of discord, so no surprises there."

Also, as to the blog address, Kallisti is greek for "to the fairest one." It was the apple that Eris offered at the wedding of Peleus and Thetis (the eventual parents of Achilles) to the most beautiful one present. This led up to an argument between Hera, Athena, and Aphrodite over which of them was the most beautiful. Now, the other gods were smart enough to keep out of it but the goddesses managed to get Paris (the idiot) to answer by each bribing him with something. Hera offered him political power, Athena promised skill in battle, and Aphrodite promised him the most beautiful woman in the world. Unfortunately, the most beautiful woman in the world was Helen, who just so happened to be already married to Menelaus of Sparta.

Too bad bad Paris didn't make the connection that Menelaus' brother was Agememnon (slayer of men is the nickname this dude gets). Also he failed to make the connection that getting the most beautiful woman in the world doesn't do you a lot of good if you don't have the political power or the skill in battle to keep her. I mean, honestly either of those choices would have been better. But really, the gods had the right idea to just keep out of the whole thing. Because, yeah, you might end up on the good side of one goddess, but you just made two really powerful enemies.

So Troy was destroyed. And it all started with Kallisti, thrown in by the Goddess of Discord.

Oh yeah, and I hope you are happy Jen. Hopefully I will come up with enough to write about to have this blog be worth it.