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.
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
The Wonders of Technology
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.
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.
Thursday, October 11, 2007
How Did This Happen?
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.
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.
Thursday, September 13, 2007
Angel Tears
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.
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.
Saturday, June 16, 2007
More Pepsi?
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!
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!
Monday, June 11, 2007
International Woman of Mystery
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.
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.
Friday, April 13, 2007
Mutual Corruption Society
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.
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.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
