The Power of C

Gettin' Crafty!

2012-01-07T22:04:00.000-08:00

FINALLY!

After, literally, months of crafting, waiting, searching for menial things, and eventual problem-solving I can post my living room renovation blog!

In fact, this has been so long in the making I have had to go to three different sources to find all the videos and pictures I have taken to document this process (this, of course, does not include any of the websites I will be referencing).

Ok, so our little apartment in Korea really is a great size for us right now (especially since we don't have all our stuff). But as any woman will tell you, a little bit of nesting has to happen no matter how small the space. Just a little something to make it "homey" and to make it really "ours." Not to mention, the stains on the walls that just won't come off really start to wear on you after a while (especially when they weren't your stains to begin with).

A relatively cheap and easy fix? PAINT! I also like to think of it as tennent-improvement-of-property. As you will see in the following I've made a few other minor additions (that took WAY more time and energy than they should have for how they turned out!), but by far the biggest difference has been made with a simple coat of paint.

My coworker and friend, Jennifer, came over the first Saturday in October (yes, I'm ashamed to admit, it's been THAT long) and in about 4 hours we were finished and I was taking tape back off the walls.

Here is a "before" video with the details...

And another with our "tools of the trade."

We listened to General Conference, visited a little, and made quick work of it. I did all the edging, and Jennifer did all the rolling.

Here's the finished product!

Can you believe what a difference that made? It's been HUGE! For weeks, and sometimes still, I come out and feel like I've walked into someone else's apartment. Beside the great addition of color, it's so nice to feel like the walls are clean.

For additional accent we also placed a few vinyl clings on the walls.

(And, uh, PLEASE don't mind the mess...)

Another project, which I had actually started before, but did not complete until after the painting, was finding a suitable covering for the main light in our living room. All our lights are fluorescent and it's just a little too bright for the larger area.

While browsing through Pinterest I saw this really cool coffee filter lamp, and I thought, "I could do that!" Except I wasn't so comfortable permanently adhering coffee filters to our light fixtures, so I had to come up with a different way.

The first thing I wanted to do was stain the filters with a variety of colors so it would look more like stained glass. I chose to do green tea, and coffee (leaving the filters in for different amounts of time to let them absorb more or less color for lighter or darker hues).

There was only one problem. Coffee filters in Korea come in the unbleached form. Meaning? They're already brown. I decided to try coloring them anyway. And if it was all for naught, oh well!

Here are the filters in their varying stages.

The coffee water was pretty murky. I used about 10 packets of instant coffee in about 1 1/4 cups of water. Our apartment reeked of it for days.

The unfortunate truth is, it didn't really work. Oh well! Next it was time to figure out how to attach the filters to the fixture. Initially I tried double-sided sticky roll-on (I thought I was buying tape, it was my own fault for not checking more closely). It failed miserably. Especially when facing the air conditioner blowing at full speed.

So the coffee filter light filter came down for a while. Then I followed Adam's idea and chained them together using a stapler. Each chain was fixed to the next in three places. I then taped the chains securely to the fixture. It's both easy to remove when a light bulb burns out, and has a nice canopy/billowy effect (especially when the heat turns on and it blows!).

Next was something for my big wall. It was nice and clean and brown now. And very, very empty. Once again I was perusing Pinterest (see! People actually make stuff happen from that site, it's not just a soul-sucking waste of time!), and I found this...

It was simple, It made a statement. It was perfect. Why is it perfect, you may ask. Because it's made of toilet paper rolls and spray paint! I didn't have access to a cheap canvas from Michael's like the original crafter did, but I figured I could make do. And I knew I had access to spray paint and toilet paper rolls.

So for weeks I meticulously collected our empty rolls (honestly, I still find myself in the habit of wanting to keep them "just in case" I find something else really excellent to do with them) as well as paper towel rolls, since they're the same diameter and a bit longer.

For a background I had the ingenius idea to use the little boxes our packages of noodles came in, along with a couple of cereal boxes, and the final addition was the box our shoe rack came in. They were different lengths, heights, and depths. I figured it could be really cool to have them that way.

Finally, the day came to paint. I was going to spray the boxes white and the flowers/butterflies/what-have-yous brown.

Here are the photos from that day.

I was ready to roll! Until, that is, I realized in a very short period of time that my "white" spray paint was actually just a clear topcoat, and my toilet paper rolls needed much more than a single can of brown, as they quickly absorbed the entire thing.

If I were doing this again (at home, in English, where I know what things are) I would use a primer, as was suggested by the original crafter, to avoid using so much color on the toilet paper rolls. But that didn't solve my problem of the background. If that wasn't white, then there was no white to be found where I do my shopping.

A new plan was needed. And it took until Christmas Eve when Adam and I were wrapping our presents that I realized the embossable foil paper we bought would be perfect. So yesterday I picked up two more rolls at the store, two more cans of brown spray paint, and we were back in business.

I had agonized over the shape and design for a long time when I did the initial layout back in OCTOBER, so I just stuck with it as I was putting things together this time. Now, looking at the completed project, I think I would have played with the space on my wall a little differently. But I still like it.

The only problem was I didn't mirror the picture when I was assembling things from behind, so it actually turned out a reverse of the original design.

Alas here it is!

This last picture is how it looked in the morning light today, and it helped me to like it even more.

That's it! Renovation is complete!

Now, for some lucky little add-ons.

Last VIP Adam and I taught students a Western class where you make a horse's head with your foot, then add googly eyes, a triangle neck, and some yarn for a mane (notice that none of us got that far). I made one with a class, and so did he. Then a student gave her's to Adam, so we had a little horse family! Points if you can guess whose horse is whose!

Also, Christmas this year was pretty low key, but we decided to get a little taste of home (or close to it). Here's a little video of that as well. Enjoy!

The Truth About Bling

2011-12-28T03:06:00.000-08:00

I am absolutely infatuated with my wedding ring. Sounds a bit vain and worldly, I know. But the truth is, it's absolutely perfect for me.

Photo courtesy of Ashwood Photography

I also adore my jeweler, Kristy at JK Jewelers. Her and her employee Ashley were wonderful at making sure I got exactly what I wanted and weren't afraid to tell me no, or give me more information so I could make the best decision for me.

Lately I've been receiving lots of compliments about my ring, and getting lots of comments on it as well. Grandma will be so upset I'm telling the world, but it's not something I'm ashamed of; in fact, it's something I think more people should know. So here goes.

I love the fire of a diamond. The way the facets work together to create a brilliance that can be altogether breathtaking. But when it came to getting a ring I knew the cut I wanted was extremely expensive because it's unique and difficult to get right. My solitaire ring features a 7 trillion. Because of it's shape it looks like it could probably be a 1.5 carat, but they're measured differently (again because of the unique shape). I started developing the concept behind my ring when I was 15 years old. That's a story for another time and place. Suffice it to say I wanted a solitaire trillion on a by-pass band (the band doesn't form a complete circle, it passes by the two parts that would complete the band).

As I grew up I was exposed to some seriously disconcerting information. First, I read the book A Long Way Gone: Memoirs of a Boy Soldier by Ishmael Beah (you can read more about that here). I also watched the film Blood Diamond . What I read and heard stuck with me. So I did more research.

Blood Diamond is not just a catchy movie title, it's a literal object.

The U.N. has some information, but you can see it hasn't been updated since 2001, and reads somewhat like ancient history. The truth is, the issues with blood diamonds are prevalent today, and are just as much a threat to peace and stability as they have always been. In spite of the Kimberley Certification Process Scheme (you can read more about that in this article on Wikipedia, as well as the on-going history of blood diamonds) of 2000 the blood has not ceased flowing for the sake of diamonds.

If you've bothered following any of these links you have learned that purchasing diamonds from non-certified countries supports drug and war lords who, in turn, run armies of children, cut off the limbs of individuals who will not help them, and use sexual abuse against children and women to gain their goals. Many of them seek for power and use vast stores of weapons and drugs to achieve their means.

You may think, "But I bought my jewelry from _______(insert national chain here)." They verify that their diamonds are conflict free." The sad fact is, diamonds are smuggled across borders from non-certified countries to certified countries, exported as their own (even though the numbers clearly do not add up for numbers mined versus numbers exported), are mixed with the conflict-free stones, and sold on the market. Congratulations, the drug/war-lord has been financed.

I am not saying that jewelers are the enemy, nor are people who purchase and like to wear diamonds. The enemy is greed and power. The enemy is a corrupt system which is willing to sacrifice human lives to line it's pockets with even more money. There are some articles, like this one, dedicated to helping the concerned consumer try to purchase conflict-free diamonds. Yet there is no guarantee unless you mine the stone yourself (good luck with that).

After I learned all this I could not, in good conscience, buy a diamond ring. So I opted for the truly conflict-free alternative. My ring is set with a cubic zirconia. To any trained jeweler's eye it is easily recognizable. But most people who look at my ring would never know the difference. They are cost effective, they are conflict-free, and they are, for all intents and purposes, a spot on match for a real diamond. My stone has perfect cut, color, and clarity. Not to mention I was able to go big without breaking the bank. A real diamond with a slight inclusion, less-than perfect coloring, and half the size of mine costs over $6,000 USD.

Instead I have a virtually flawless copy that I can replace every one to two years for maybe $40 USD. I could replace it every year for the rest of my life and still not spend a fraction of what a real one would cost. And I know that nobody had to die so I could enjoy my sparkle. There is the age-old retort, "But it's not real."

Well, here's what's real to me:

I work in a fairly global community. The English Village where I work in South Korea represents at least nine different countries. One co-worker, from a country rife with diamond conflict, overheard me talking about this and seemed surprised that I knew what I do, and cared enough to do something about it.

No. It's not real. And I can sleep with that.

Happenings

2011-11-28T04:39:00.001-08:00

*Sorry for the lack of colors and such--I really think they make the blog more fun. But at this rate I was just glad to get it written and posted. Hopefully you will be, too!

Yeah. It's been nearly a month. No, I don't think I'm busier than anyone else. No, I don't have any excuses. I believe that time plays tricks on us all, and moves much faster than it seems.

I even uploaded videos about two weeks ago because I really wanted to post. They're still waiting (and will be dumped at the end of this blog for your viewing pleasure). And no, I still haven't finished my crafting projects. The store where I bought the paint redid their crafting area, and I don't even know if they carry what I need anymore. I'll have to check more closely when I have time and more money in the future (yeah...that distant, nebulous future which so quickly becomes the past).

Anyhoo, I explained how life has been going to a coworker like this today, and I think it sums it up nicely. The last four days have felt like the last four months were crammed into four days (ie, I was freakin' busy). An issue with over committing? Perhaps. It just seems that I'm destined to be busy with a million projects the last week in November whether I'm in school or not.

It's not the slideshow that I spent three hours working on that suddenly ceased to function in the middle of a closing ceremony that took the cake, or the entire day I literally (felt like I) couldn't do anything right. No, no. Not even the day we spoke in church, I forgot my talk at home on the kitchen table, the fire alarm went off during the opening hymn, and we taught a song we hardly knew on the fly to fill up time in primary that is the catalyst for this. Although, in a way, I suppose they are all contributing factors.

No, this can all be traced back to a two hour time slot on Friday night. You see, we're very exciting people. Friday night we split a cab with our friend Brandon and took off for a neighboring town for a Friday night filled with dinner and...grocery shopping. Like I said, we're very exciting people (no offense, Brandon. You are not included in that "we." Unless, of course, you want to be. Then you are, and you're welcome.). I called a taxi and within a few minutes we were on our way. We talked a little about whether we planned to eat at the Popeye's (which, I have been informed, is not a "real" Popeye's, it's "Korean Popeye's") located inside Emart (the store where we were going shopping) during the drive, but didn't decide anything. Once we arrived Brandon asked what we planned to do, I wanted to check the time to see if we wanted to arrange doing some shopping before eating. My phone wasn't in my coat. It wasn't in my pants pocket. And it dawned on me. It was in the taxi.

I abandoned my cart (and purse) to run outside to see if the taxi was still there (thanks for babysitting it, Brandon!). Alas, it was not. We decided that acting fast would be the most likely thing to get it returned. But Adam didn't have the taxi company phone number. As we were dialing the number we saw on another taxi a kindly man came forward and, I'm guessing, asked us if I left my purse in the taxi. I could understand he asked if the taxi brought us from the English Village and we said yes. He called, I'm assuming, the taxi dispatch and told them what happened. We gave them my number so they knew which cab took the call, and we gave them Adam's number so they could call us back. Except we weren't sure of Adam's number and gave them the wrong one. Fortunately, we were able to correct that minor oversight rather quickly.

The cab driver called back and said that, rather than make an extra trip back to Emart to give us the phone we should call him directly when we were finished shopping, and he would return the phone and take us back. We agreed, and went inside and did our shopping. Apparently he got a little antsy waiting and called Adam two or three times and yelled at him in Korean. Needless to say, it was rather stressful. We finally made it back outside, and Adam declared that he could not speak to the cabbie. So I called. I pieced together what little Korean I know and he said "Nay, nay." and hung up on me (in this sense it means, "yeah, yeah." As in, "Ok, I know.") Our kindly helper was there again and asked if the cab was coming. As he tried to call the other man pulled up. My phone! Our ride! Hooray!

Once we climbed in I searched for my phone. I could not find it. Nor could Adam. Brandon, who was sitting in the front seat found it in the center console between him and the driver. The driver snatched it back and said, "No handepone. You pay." and held up one finger. So I tried to give him 1,000 won (roughly $1). He swore and made a disgusted sound, and said, "No. One hundred!" If I knew how to flatly refuse in Korean I would have, but I didn't. So I offered him 10,000 and he was appeased.

In case you were wondering, cab fare from where we live to Emart is just under 8,000 won. It was highway robbery. On the flip side, it is not unheard of for taxi drivers to take the things they find and sell them to people for money. So, in the long run, I was really lucky.

And now, some videos...

Several weeks ago I had the opportunity to teach a group of 5 and 6 year olds. They were freaking adorable.

Adam took me out for my birthday...this is what he looked like to me all night.

The Bloomin' Onion with a Korean twist.

A mini "choco" cake to round off a birthday feast!

A Mind Divided

2011-10-31T18:45:00.000-07:00

It's funny (not in a laughing way, in a sad-smile at the pathetic way). This has been ruminating my mind for a few weeks now (some may ask, why not put down what you had then? The answer is not simple.), and yet each time I sit down to write something else comes up. For instance, I intended to write it yesterday, but ended up Skyping with my sister and her children (an experience I would not trade for anything). I told her that I would write the post today. Then this morning while doing push-ups--ok, random side-explanation. I don't think what I was doing would be classified in anybody's book as a legitimate push-up, not even girl ones (sorry you had to see it, Adam. I really did try to protect you!), but the point is that I'm trying--I noticed how dirty my carpet is, even though I swept it Saturday (yes, literally swept it. Our vacuum doesn't work at all. It's kind of ridiculous), and the thought came to mind, "I have time this morning. I'll just sweep it again this morning instead of writing my blog."

Then a prevailing thought, or voice if you will, came through. NO! I need to prioritize. I have been putting off blogging, I have been putting off facing myself and the people who read what I write and care what I do, I have been putting off working on me in the guise of housekeeping and improvement for too long. It may sound strange to some to think that blogging is a higher priority than clean floors. The point is, blogging is cleaning my emotional and mental floor. And in case you haven't noticed, it's been a long time coming. My literal floors were swept just three days ago. They can wait until tomorrow.

The long and short of it is that I haven't been in the best place emotionally or mentally of late. There are certain things which will always get my ire up, and no matter how many times I hear it I will always tear up when I hear the Star Spangled Banner, and I will smile every time I hear the laughter of small children. These are truths about me. I'd like to think I'm pretty even keeled. The past few weeks I've been in more of a pre-pubescent-teenager-with-all-the-angst-and-hormonal-rollercoaster-mood-swings kind of place. In short: I've been out of balance.

Of course it's not til I get to the really bad place where I almost feel like I'm losing my mind that I do something about it, cause I'm stubborn like that. But in the past few days I've done a lot of soul searching and have realised that to be the best teacher, to be the best wife, to be the best friend, to be the best sister, to be the best aunt that I can be, I need to make sure I spend a little time on me. And I don't mean in self-indulgent pedicures, hours whiled away on Pinterest, a shopping trip and dinner with friends kind of way. I mean really investing in myself. Developing skills, working on talents, improving my mind, taking care of my body.

Now that I've had this realisation, and even been given some pretty pointed direction on what I need to do, I feel overwhelmed. I have the tendency to "run faster than [I] have strength." Yet, my intellectual self takes advantage of this and will occasionally justify laziness as a ploy to avoid that very fault. Once again, it comes back to balance. The careful ground of knowing my limits and pushing my weaknesses.

No, I don't have any real answers or miracle cures of how to make it all work. But I have direction. I have determination. And I have the best support. It's time to find some middle ground and start making tracks.

P.S. I have been up to some pretty fun/cool stuff lately, too. Like painting my apartment and getting my craft on, but I promised myself I wouldn't post that blog until all my renovations were complete. So a few more cans of spray paint, super glue, and ingenuity and you'll see the results!

We're All One Big Family

2011-09-16T01:15:00.000-07:00

At least that's the motto the Mt. Odu Unification Observatory tries to pedal. While it does have some good points about people trying to work together to get along it plays more like South-Korea-is-trying-really-hard-to-unify-and-North-Korea-keeps-screwing-it-up. It also stated that North Koreans, unverifiably, suffer from lack of proper nutrition, housing, and general modernization.

We walked up a freakin HUGE hill to get there, and on our walk down a cab picked us up. We celebrated by going to lunch at Salad and ShabuShabu. I found this happy surprise in my noodles...

(after turning the camera off Adam was mocking me and said, "I'm never letting you kiss me again!" hahaha) It wasn't bad at all--just really chewy and not very flavorful. But I did succeed and I'd do it again!

Museuming We Did Go!

2011-09-16T01:01:00.000-07:00

Actually, we didn't. We tried to go to the National Museum of Korea, but because Chuseok is a three-day event, causing it to fall on the museum's normal day off (Monday) and it's secondary day off (Tuesday), it was also closed Wednesday when we tried to go.

Fortunately, the grounds were still open so we were able to see the outdoor exhibits.

After seeing these really awesome sites we also had the good fortune to visit Insadong. It is very popular for its artistic and antique shops. Additionally, it is renown for the cuisine. Which was fortunate for us because we were hungry by the time we got there! On the way we met his fellow...

Here is some of Insadong and the restaurant where we ate.

The last video is quite possibly one of my favorite discoveries thus far in our adventuring. Hope you enjoy it as much as I do!

Everland: Where Every Day is a Holiday!

2011-09-13T06:52:00.000-07:00

So it's not the happiest place on earth, but it is a crap-ton closer and A LOT cheaper! During Chuseok (chew-sock) they offered "Foreigner Day" where the regular price of $40 was reduced to a measly $23. So with 5 co-workers and another friend we went a tramping to Everland!

Our journey consisted of a 45 minute bus ride, 35 minute train ride, and another 40 minute bus ride. Except it was Chuseok (read: everybody in Korea has the day off). Traffic was insane, the buses, subways, and terminals were crowded beyond belief. But we made the best of it and had a good day!

The following videos are a progression of our journey and adventuring...

The return trip was a little more intense, as the bus we rode home quit running (we were told) at 10:30pm. Adam and I left ahead of the rest of the group around 8:30. For a trip that's total time is supposed to take 2 hours that sounds like plenty of time. Except our trip TO the park had taken 3 hours because of the crowds. We waited about 20 minutes for a bus. That ride was the promised 40 minutes. Then it was a 5 minute wait for our subway. It was not a 35 minute ride. It was 55. That's right. We arrived at our subway station right at 10:30. With relatively little problem we made it to the bus stop and the great wait began. As did the debate, do we taxi? Do we try to ride a train that goes closer to home and hope to taxi from there? 15 minutes later the blessed 2200 express bus pulled up. Apparently the driver was trying to make up for lost time (or just driving like a maniac like they all do) because that 45 minute ride only took 35 minutes.

In short, the trip was a smashing success! Today we recovered by doing absolutely nothing, and tomorrow we're going to a museum with some friends. Happy Chuseok!

I Spy!

2011-09-13T06:33:00.000-07:00

So I am fully willing to admit that my blog has become nothing more than short narrative surrounding video clips of my life. But ya know, it works for me right now.

With that, here are some of this week's clips!

First, I went into the ladies room to "freshen up" and noticed this HUGE creepy-crawly in the window. Nevermind that there were several other people going in and out at the time who may have been put-off by my whipping out a video camera, I just had to capture this behemoth in all its glory.

And last, I had the opportunity to volunteer to cover some of my co-worker's TEMP (Teaching English to Military Program) shifts this week. The first one just out-and-out never showed up. I was paid $30 for their negligence. The other one our ride took us the 40 minutes to the base of the 25th Infantry Division, only to be told there would be no class. So I was paid $60 for an 80 minute car ride. Go me!

During the ride we drove at speeds that accommodated some video of real Korea, so here they are!

A Season of FIRSTS...and Some Seconds, Too

2011-09-03T22:50:00.000-07:00

This week has been the hardest week for me in Korea so far. I believe it has to do with the fact I was battling a cold, we hosted our biggest group of students thus far, and I was just plain ol' homesick.

But do not be dismayed! This has not prevented any new adventuring, and the week actually rapped out very nicely. I also have a slew of new videos and a couple of still-lifes (I know, who does THAT anymore?) to bring all of you a little closer to me--cause I'm selfish like that.

First things first in the week of firsts, cute little kids! Ok, so this is not the first time I've seen them, but this was my first chance to get video of the wee ones. These kids are part of the One Day Program (ODP). They usually arrive around 10am and wander to the different facilities throughout the day. Unfortunately, we do not get to work with them. It's probably a good thing or I might die of cuteness overload.

Our next first: riding the subway! All of the people who worked in the Special Programs department during the month-long Vacation Intensive Program (VIP) went to dinner together. We rode the free EV Shuttle into Ilsan, then took the subway to WesternDom (pronounced Western dome). Another first involved is you meeting my fabulous co-worker Patricka. Love her!

The next first is getting to see WesternDom itself. They have an IMAX theater there (note: In Korea even going to the cinema your seats are assigned like when going to performance theater--kinda strange, but the theaters are nice!) and lots of shopping and food. We ate at UNO's (for my Western US friends who were clueless like I was, it's a pizzeria that was started in Chicago).

Following that we have the first look at some of my Korean classes. The first group, boys from Buchan Middle School were my "home room" (we basically play games and just try to have fun with the boys, also take them shopping on Market St. and teach them language-centered lessons about going out to public facilities like travel agency, post office, clinic, bank, police station, etc.). The second group, girls from Buchan Middle School were my language/content area students. All of the really language-intensive lessons are in the morning and I was able to work with these girls. Later in the week I was also able to work with them on the M2NE1 (Message to Anyone) project in my content area (which is Arts, Broadcasting, and Communication or ABC).

On Friday I went with Adam's content area to lunch (the video is us proving the true meaning of HOV in Korea). Not far from where we live is a Shabushabu restaurant. Rather than me explain, I recommend you Google what it is, because I'm sure my limited understanding will be too narrow in defining it. Basically we had a huge salad bar that you could take as many trips to as you liked (it even included a chocolate fountain) and the actual shabushabu. It was really good! We'll probably be going back. But next time we'll likely be on foot...

Speaking of food, I had been craving some good American fare and asked Adam when we got paid if we could go back to Johnny Rocket's. So we did! But this time, we went with friends :) So this first is you seeing Brandon's first time to Johnny's and meeting our friend/co-worker Caleb.

While we were at the outlet mall where Johnny's is located we happened to spy a little "mall security." I may or may not have shouted, "PAUL BLART, MALL COP!" as I attempted to get my camera out and film as much as possible. But Dude was fast, so there's not much.

The next series of videos and stills document our FIRST excursion into Seoul! Honestly, we were surprised at how many people cared so much that we hadn't been yet. So Saturday we went (mostly because it involved books and because we are such bookish people we made it a priority).

Our first stop was in the foreign-district of Seoul called Itaewon (ok, so we pronounce it ee-tay-juan but Korean's kind of drop the W and it sounds more like ee-tay-ohn). Lo and behold, our booking at What the Book--

oooh! Doesn't that just look like home?!--(which you can visit here) took long enough that we didn't want to walk far to eat and right there, next door was this...

Real hamburgers TWO days in a row! It was bliss. They also had a special for ice cream. Two cups were 1000won (roughly a buck). So we decided to enjoy some. The taste was a little off (like they used powdered vanilla and the sugar was cooked too long), but it was the best we've had so far! Plus we had really cool utensils to eat with. Check them out!

Our other stop was in an outdoor market called Namdaemun (nom-day-moon). The very first thing we saw when we rounded the corner was Seoul City Tower.

(look mom! Proof that Adam is, in fact, alive and well!...and that I still have sad, ugly hair)

I took this video and Adam snapped these stills walking down our first street in the market (let it be known that we walked at least 6 or 8 different roads and still didn't hit them all, not to mention we skipped all the alley-ways in between).

It was so fun to see, and I even got to do a little bartering (Mama you taught me well and would be so proud!). These are my purchases for the day:

From front left: a clutch or "wristlet"--you can't see the strap because it fell backwards, but it's the cutest little bag for about $15! Sunglasses (these were 10,000won--roughly $10--I bought these after seeing another pair that were going for $135,000). A FABULOUS new purse--it has pockets, pockets, pockets galore (literally 8 zippered pockets and two open spaces). It's when I did the bartering.

The guy told me, "I give you discount." He punched 120,000 into the calculator and said, "Price, but!" then he erased it and typed in 95,000 and said, "For you." And smiled. I grimaced and said, "I don't know. Let me go ask my husband." He didn't want any of that, so he said, with a very pained expression, "Ok, ok, ok, how much you pay?" Then he handed me the calculator. So I typed in 65,000. You would have thought I hit him with a baseball bat, but he relented in the end! And I also the super great slouchy cap (it totally reminds me of you b and Tia, too!). It's still a little too warm to be sporting the hat just yet, but September is here so the time is short!

The last first, at least for this post, was getting to see a new species of crab. The owners of Tom 'n Tom's Coffee Shop here in the village had them on display. Their daughter caught them at a little inlet not far from here. We asked if they would be kept for pets or if people would eat them. The woman made an awful face and said, "inside" and mimed lots of bugs crawling around.

I don't know if I could eat them either...

So in spite of the week being less than good, I think it turned out pretty alright.

A Video Dump

2011-08-24T23:38:00.000-07:00

So basically anytime I see something particularly interesting/unique/funny, etc. I just whip out my handy digital recorder (thanks Mama!) and hit the big red button. True story: I carry it in my pocket in place of a cell phone to remind me to record often.

And so, in no particular order of importance rhyme or reason (nope, they're not even chronological) are little videos of my life in Korea.

Note: I watched all of these prior to uploading which means you're only getting a sampling of the videos because I find myself really annoying as a narrator. You also have my sincerest apologies for the narrating you do get. I mostly do it to help me remember why I was recording and what the subject matter of the recording is...and because I have this disease where I think I'm funny.

Video 1: Jet Air Dryer

In some bathrooms they have regular run-of-the-mill hand dryers. They don't work here at all. It's too humid and the dryers just are not powerful enough. However, at legit places (like the airport, movie theater, and Costco--yes, Costco) they have these super-high-powered air dryers. They're kind of the equivalent of the dryers in car washes, but for your hands. The difference? These work! I can stick my dripping-wet hands in there and they come out desert dry. I am fascinated by them.

Video 2: Filming at EV

It is common for different companies to film different things at EV. This is for a laundry detergent commercial. And yes, those are bubbles. Lots and lots of bubbles :)

Video 3: The Price of Feel-Goodery

There are lots of Western food items in Korea. Some of them have been rather mainstreamed. Most things we recognise from home are actually marketed by a company here by the name of Lotte (low-tay). Like Oreos, Post and Kelloggs cereals, Pringles, etc. However, there are some things that one must pay premium price for. Like this Maple Syrup.

(Update: Last night when we were at Costco I saw a quart of Maple Syrup for $46 and a quart of honey for almost $50. Adam said, "There must not be any bees in Korea.")

Video 4: Photo Op

Tons of tourists come through EV each day, and nearly all of them are snap-happy camera-toters. There is also another, more specific market for taking pictures in the Village. Wedding photos. I've seen several couples in the six-seven weeks I've been here.

Video 5: Primary Children Singing

A woman in our ward turned 70 years old, so the ward planned a surprise potluck for her. As one of the gifts the Primary sang her a birthday song. My heart melts every time at this...

Video 6: The Birthday Party

This was actually a precursor to the previous video. It features the buffet of traditional Korean food and a look at the building where we meet! This is taking place in the chapel/gym/cultural hall/stage on the second floor of the two story (well, three if you count the basement) building.

Video 7: Meister Artwork

In my earlier video about Meister I forgot to include my favorite part--the artwork! I'm pretty sure you cannot see all of the detail, but I love this stuff! I seriously am mesmerized by it every time we go.

Video 8: Green Space

During our first foray into a neighboring town called Ilsan we happened upon a lovely walkway designed as green space in the downtown area. A Korean coworker explained that Ilsan did not develop organically, but was a planned community, and people from Seoul have been moving there because they like it so much. We like it, too.

Video 9: The Not-So-Friendly Neighbors to the North

On a map if you look at Paju City, or read about it's location it appears to be about 45 miles from North Korea. WRONG! We are within swimming distance. Literally. This shows the meager boundary between the North and South.

Why Women Use Going to the Bathroom as a Reward

2011-08-17T22:21:00.000-07:00

Several years ago I had the good fortune of hearing a comedienne (yes, that is the legitimate spelling for a woman comedian) Wendi Fox at Snow College. As part of her routine she asked why women use going to the bathroom as a reward. As in, "I'll go as soon as I finish washing these dishes." or "I'll go as soon as I finish changing the laundry and fold the big pile." Until eventually you forget you had to go until hours later when you have to go again and you can't remember if you ever went when you needed to before (admit it, this has happened to you).

But having moved to Korea I think I've figured out the real reason why.

If you live in an arid place, like Utah, you may not fully appreciate this. Likewise, if you have never worn nylons with a skirt and a slip you cannot appreciate this.

I used to think Ohio was humid. I was wrong. During the 5+ weeks I have been a resident of Korea we have had a grand total of 5 sunny days. Some days it hasn't rained, but it's been overcast. Most every day it rains. Some days it's not legitimate rain, it's more like the sky is sweating on you--like this moist, hot dew that just condenses on your body.

It is under these conditions that I have had to go to the bathroom.

Remember with me, if you will, those times when you've gone to the swimming pool and no sooner than you have submersed yourself in water you get the "I-gotta-go-NOW" sensation, so you do the bent half-shuffle to the bathroom, avoiding running so as not to attract the attention of the life guards, only to get into a stall where you peel the saturated suit off your wet self. Sitting on the seat you're not sure if everything coming from your person is making it into the bowl because you have, what you hope is just water, coursing down your legs.

And you can almost forget wiping.

As soon as your soggy fingertips touch the paper it practically melts to your flesh, let alone trying to get enough to the place where it's supposed to perform its purpose. If it does get there the majority of it has flaked off onto your thighs and there's a mass of floating toilet-paper bits in the bowl.

Then comes the most arduous task. Getting the wet swimming suit back on. No matter how much you dance, wiggle, shimmy, jump, twist, shake, tug, pull, jerk, shove, stomp, or squat that sucker is not going on right again.

This happens when a woman wears nylons as well. Getting them on is difficult enough, but as soon as they're partially pulled down for a pit-stop there's no getting them back on right without starting from scratch. Conditions must be just right for a successful nylon application attempt to be succesful. Bathroom stalls are not incubators of good fortune in that department.

You may think I'm wandering, but here comes the point.

Combine all those elements and it's like going to the bathroom in Korea. No. I haven't been swimming. It's just that humid. I've found I avoid going to the bathroom, not because I find going a complete waste of time (which I do), but because I want to avoid the fiasco of getting everything put back together again.

My take is not that I use going to the bathroom as a reward, but as a process of procrastinated punishment and effectual torture.

I'm Famous!...-ish

2011-08-15T18:54:00.000-07:00

While our Russian students were here there were a few crews with video equipment going around (on the first day they told us it was Sonja's birthday). Apparently one of the crews was recording for a news group called Arirang. This is an interesting clip about English Village (this one focused all its recording on Gyeonggi, but refers to the English Villages in Korea in general, as there are several) and I happen to be in it (in all my un-make-uped hair air-dried, post-wedding-weight-gain glory!).

I taught all of the Russian, Japanese, and Korean students you see in the video, and I know/have worked with all the teachers.

Hope you enjoy!

The Disquieted Mind

2011-08-12T10:26:00.000-07:00

(Otherwise known as the pent-up words and videos of the last few weeks post brought on by a bout of insomnia, joining Pinterest, and reading too much of this blog.)

First, a warning about the blog I've been reading too much of. I recommend everyone read it. It may very well change your life. I believe it has changed mine. That said, it is not (hopefully *yet*) a happily-ever-after story. It is about a family in California whose 7-month-old baby is dying of liver failure. I've read the entire blog over the past two days and I almost feel like I've been reading a heart-tugging fictional story that ends leaving you hanging.

Except this is real life, and this tiny baby's life is hanging in the balance. I'm tearing up just thinking about it. So, with fair warning, I suggest you read it. Why? To see eternal truths prevail in the face of adversity, to read of a normal family whose lives have been catapulted into the strange because of a one-in-a-million-odd disease who still make (not find!) the time to take their three-year-old out for ice cream, and to have your heart touched forever by Ruby Jane.

It's ok. I don't mind if you link over. This will still be waiting here when you get back.

And now I'll give you some time to compose yourself if you did link over because I'm switching some serious gears (don't worry, I totally lost it while in the computer lab at work today where all the teachers are required to be. Two other teachers checked on me to make sure I was ok because my heart was so touched by this terrible and beautiful tragedy).

Now, back to my continued adventures in Korea!

Hear in the Village there are a couple places we frequent. One much more so than the other. The below videos feature Castel Nuevo (known to the teachers as Pizza Pasta). The woman who runs the store is really nice, and now recognizes Adam as a regular. Plus, the food is really good! If you read Adam's blog you also know that the prices are pretty nice, especially for teachers (who get a discount-woohoo!).

The next is the closest thing to "fast food" we have here. It's called Meister (belying the German roots of the Hamburger). We go here significantly less often.

Next, on to a little something I've been working up the courage to get over, but just can't seem to (kind of like the shower curtain thing). My first experience with a Korean bathroom at the airport was pretty cool. There was this handy button that wrapped plastic around the toilet, making sure it was a sanitary seat at the beginning of each individual.

Nothing too fancy beyond that. Flush and go (or rather "go" then flush and THEN go...)! The toilet in our apartment was also "normal" by all regards--it even came with an elongated bowl (yes Daddy, I thought of you). It's a little close to the wall (read: my butt is too big for me to sit on it normally, I have to sort of do a 1/4 side saddle, but that's no biggie), but again it's just like at home.

Then came my first experience with a toilet in the cafeteria.

Here is where my confidence wavered. I walked into the stall and along the entire left side of the toilet is an electronic panel of buttons (all labeled in Korean). No matter what I tried I couldn't figure out how to flush the thing to save my life (thank goodness I had the sense not to pee in a toilet I couldn't flush!)...so I duck-walked back home.

The next try was using one of the bathrooms in one of the buildings where we hold class. I was relieved when I saw that their was no fancy panel of buttons (sidenote: I learned those are just "luxury" options and that the lid to the toilet was hiding the standard flushing mechanism common among public toilets). The sign on the door read "Please put toilet paper to garbage, not to toilet." Fair enough, even if it does make the stalls remind me of the smell of our camp trailer after a long weekend on the mountain...

Glad to have conquered the actual toilet part of going to the bathroom I walked out to triumphantly wash my hands only to find there was no soap. Then my observant eyes fell upon a slimy teal-colored mass congealed in what appeared to be a soap dish. I may have audibly whimpered. Don't believe me? Here's proof!

Public bar soap? REALLY? Ick. It still grosses me out.

Not only that, but after the encounter with the soap (which kind of mushes because of the humidity and constantly being wet from use so it never really feels like it rinses off, and I feel like my hands are coated in other people's germs) I turned to find an air dryer. Pretty sure I thought, You have GOT to be kidding me! After about 3 minutes of vigorous rubbing under the hot air my hands were still wringing wet. So I walked away. Consequently, I've since determined that the Cafeteria bathrooms have the best hand soap (not the mushy green stuff, it's legit Oil of Olay Creme bar) AND they have paper towels.

Amidst all the blog reading, eating, and post-eating functions of the day I have actually been teaching, too (I know, I know, where do I find the time?)! The majority of the Village is occupied with an extended holiday program called VIP (Vacation Intensive Program). Adam and I were temporarily reassigned to "Special Programs" instead of being involved in VIP.

This means we get to work with International students, teach a different variety of lessons, and we don't have specific content areas (we are science, film, cooking, and language teachers). That said, it's been a lot of fun! For the first week I worked with a program that combined Korean, Japanese, and Russian middle school-aged students. We had heard horror stories about the previous Russian students, so I was a tad trepidatious, but it was no big deal. The Korean and Japanese students were only here for one week, but the Russians stayed for a second week.

Originally I was not scheduled to be with them, but luck prevailed and I was reassigned to stick with them. They were so much fun! I got to know their personalities and had some good laughs. I was shocked at their eagerness to play Twister during "Action Time" (basically a period where we just play games and let them take a break from English study). This is a series of clips I took while we played a game one night.

Their last day they even prepared a song and gifts for us. I really did almost feel like crying. It was so sad to see them go! But this week it was on to Elementary and Middle School students.

This group was a lot more diverse from most we teach in One Week Programs (OWP--this school seriously has enough acronyms to rival the Church!). Typically we get groups from entire schools. This week (and next) our students, the majority of them, don't know each other. Their parents all work for Industrial Bank of Korea, and the bank sends the kids here.

It's fun, but can prove difficult with activities that require groups or for students to put themselves on any kind of perceived limb (like "Dance Party"). This week the kids did great. I was honestly shocked at how quickly they gelled. Hopefully next week goes well, too!

And lastly...I have an overwhelming desire to do some nesting here. We have a whole lot of white walls and it's driving me nuts! Tonight I bought a rug and some vinyl clings. I have some ideas about paint and accent pieces. Pinterest browsing is not helping me narrow down what I want to do.

Oh (I know I said lastly, but I'm allowed to change my mind)--shout out to my middle-aged parents who figured out how to Skype using Daddy's new iPhone4. I *LOVED* seeing them and talking to them. Family really is where it's at.

Drippings

2011-07-28T01:46:00.000-07:00

It seems that the drippings of things are where all the really good-tasting, bad-for-you parts reside. And since everything here is dripping these days, I guess it's all pretty much good stuff.

Some videos to illustrate the past few days...

Video 1: The Rain

After a week of dry skies we thought we were clear of the bad weather. Apparently we were sorely mistaken. We were assigned dinner duty the other night (our job to usher the students down to their hotels rather than let them wander the village, as you see two boys doing near the end--so don't mind me yelling at the very end...)

Video 2: MORE RAIN

At first the rain was all pretty and neat. Then it became the bane of our existance. Adam suffered the loss of a third umbrella in so many weeks thanks to the stiff winds that drove the rain in sheets and utterly soaked everything. You know the part of "Forrest Gump" where he says that the rain comes from all directions, even up? That's how I felt yesterday. In spite of a rain jacket and umbrella I was still wet (I'm sure you can imagine that poor Adam was soaked through and through). Here is more footage of the waterfall stairs and pooling of the rain (the area where this was shot is now dried out).

Blessed Assurance

2011-07-27T21:41:00.000-07:00

ADVISORY: This post is regarding faith and religion. If it is something you choose not to share, go ahead and scroll to the next post. If you're curious, give it a paragraph or two. But for all of those of you who know me even a little, this is what makes me who I am.

The rendition of "Blessed Assurance" that Gladys Knight did is the one that's rolling through my head. I've always thought that on some inner level I am a soul sister just waiting to get out. And while I can't belt like Gladys can, I can reiterate the words that she sings so well.

Perfect submission, perfect delight,

visions of rapture now burst on my sight;

angels descending bring from above

echoes of mercy, whispers of love.

This is my story, this is my song,

praising my Savior all the day long;

this is my story, this is my song,

praising my Savior all the day long.

After our adventure on Saturday we went back to the church on Sunday. Pretty sure the Adversary was trying to keep us away, as torrential rain unlike what we had seen up to that point suddenly fell from a sky that had been dry for six days. We would not be deterred. It rained so hard it started seeping through our umbrellas. The water splashing up from the ground soaked our legs. But the bus eventually came. And I swear to you as soon as it did the rain began to lessen until, by the time we reached our stop, it had ceased.

It turns out the gate we found is the back one, and we can access the church directly from the roundabout where our bus stops. We tentatively stepped in and were instantly welcomed. A woman, who only told me her English name, Julie, greeted us in remarkable English. She told us each where to go, and interpreted Relief Society for me (which she kept calling Social Society--a truer translation, IMO). At the end I asked where she learned her English, and she told me she learned it from the missionaries.

Sunday School was interpreted for us by an Elder who was just transferred in, Elder Pak Woo Jon. I don't know that I've ever concentrated so hard on anything as I tried to follow our lesson on the importance of Priesthood Authority and discernment between false and true witnesses.

During Sacrament Meeting a young man, his English name is Jeff, translated for us. His father is in the Bishopric, and he spent 10 months as an exchange student at Ohio State. He's currently trying to get in to BYU.

Between each of the meetings, and before and after Church nearly every member of the ward came to introduce themselves or say hello to us. We were something of a spectacle. They were all so polite and welcoming and kind. We received several offers for rides to and from church. Jeff's mother extended an open invitation to her home if we ever wanted to "get away" from the Village. And he offered his assistance when we go to get a phone. So many people, so willing to help. It was overwhelming.

And the quiet familiarity and presence of the Spirit was remarkable. That in Relief Society they sing an opening hymn and a practice hymn and sisters share in testimony with one another. In Sacrament that the bread and water are blessed and passed by worthy young men wearing white shirts and ties. That youth speakers race through their three minute talks in under one, and that closing Priesthood speakers get to "fill" the remainder of the time. The squirming children who are so captivating and given little "treats" to keep quiet. Even so far away it is so familiar.

It feels so much like home.

I keep getting messages from friends and family saying they are praying for us, that they love and miss us. Those prayers are answered, they are felt, and we are overwhelmed with gratitude and appreciation for the tender mercies of the Lord.

An Experiment...

2011-07-23T06:59:00.000-07:00

Adam and I decided to venture out on our own today. After two weeks of research we thought we'd finally discover where we were supposed to go to church. The following videos document our adventures today...

Video 1: Johnny Rocket's (a place you can find in the states that has legitimate "American" fare even in Korea)

Video 2: Our attempts to figure out mass transit from Paju to Geumchon

Video 3: After a few streets too far, and turning prematurely Adam spied the spire in the distance.

Video 4: Our new near-by market offers grocery delivery...

I'll work on retro-posting the other videos I have taken thus far (for those of you in the know they are already on my Facebook cause they take about 10 times longer to get them on here).

The Beginning

2011-07-13T21:34:00.000-07:00

This first week has been rather intense; a veritable whirlwind of activity. The school runs unlike anything I have ever seen before. There are 4-5 basic "content areas" where we focus on different target language. Rarely does a teacher see the same class multiple times in a day, and unless they are a homeroom group, more than twice during a week.

The students like to laugh at my attempts to speak their names. Needless to say, my Korean is wanting. They are (almost) all in love with a pop artist/group called Beast. I've heard the song "Fiction" many times already. They are also fascinated that I am married, and get really excited when they figure out that Adam is my husband. The other day a class went nuts, then one of the students quickly explained to the other teacher, who is a native Korean, that earlier the class had met Adam and he had said his wife was very beautiful (enter me at the end of the day with only mascara on and my hair attacked by rain and humidity...I think they thought he was lying, but it was still a nice compliment to receive).

They really are typical teenagers: obsessed with celebrity icons and social trends, the girls are boy crazy, and the boys are clueless. Today some girls in one of my classes showed me eye glue. It is applied using a toothpick and glues the lower part of the top lid (where the eyelashes are) to the upper top lid to make the eyes stay open wider. They explained that it is very popular in Korea to want bigger eyes, whiter skin, blonde hair, and noses with shape (not flat). One girl held her arm out and said, "We are yellow." I placed mine next to her's and there wasn't much difference, at least not that I could see.

We also went on a second shopping trip yesterday. The first one took three hours and was completely overwhelming. This time we went to a slightly smaller and and somewhat closer store called E-mart. Rather than sprawling and large, they build up (but they are still not small, mind you). The main floor had electronics, clothing, and some home organizing things, as well as the photo booth. The top floor had a veterinarian and hair salon. The bottom floor had the groceries, toiletries, bath/kitchen, and cleaning supplies. It took us just over an hour and felt much more manageable. We were also excited to see a new, smaller grocery story (one level) opened just down the street called S-mart. Hopefully we'll be able to do most of our shopping there.

The items that most excited me on our recent venture: Shower curtain and rod! In Korean it is common practice to have a "wet bathroom." The shower and tub are open to the rest of the room, and one wears stiff shower slippers in the bathroom to keep from falling. I just couldn't cope, so we westernized and today I was blissfully happy to step out of the shower onto a mostly-dry floor (humidity still makes it damp). A toaster! Now we can do more than eat cold cereal in the mornings :) And...a wireless router! Poor Adam was exhausted last night and I wouldn't let him rest until we had the thing installed. But all the directions are in Korean and we never got it worked out. Perhaps tonight...

I'm still on the hunt for a shoe rack (our carpet in the bedroom is industrial, really-hard-to-clean, felt-like stuff so we take our shoes off at the door), but we'll make do until we get it taken care of. It's beginning to feel more like home, I'm trying to pick up Korean phrases, and I feel a little more comfortable in this very foreign place.

An Introduction

2011-07-11T04:00:00.000-07:00

My husband has always wanted to live in an apartment over a shop or store of some kind. Makes sense. We’re people watchers. No, we’re not creepy stalker-types; we’re writers. We just moved into a one bedroom, one-story walk-up. We live above a gift shop. There’s a coffee house two doors down, next to that a little Italian place, across the way a burger café, a little bakery, and not too far down a true English pub. We live on Main Street. Just up from here the bend in the road turns into Market Street. Although I can’t be sure why, as the bend in the road leads to the end of the road, and all the shops are here on Main Street, even the little convenience store.

The door to our building stays open all the time. Except on weekends. Weekends on Main Street is a mad house. But the rest of the time, it just stays open. The door to our apartment is always unlocked. As are all the apartments here in the Village. Seems kind of counter-intuitive with laptops out, all our personal possessions contained in 300 square foot cubes. But when we first arrived the guy who brought us to our apartment simply shrugged and said,

“This is Korea.”

A Good Night's Sleep

2011-07-03T13:49:00.000-07:00

The past few days (Adam might argue past seven weeks...I think) it's been difficult to get a good night's sleep. Between the killer heat, lots of stress, and just being restless there haven't been many nights with a sound slumber.

The good news is: WE ARE FINALLY LEAVING FOR KOREA!!! The bad news is: beside having not slept well the past few days my sleep patterns are gonna be tweaked by my work schedule for the next few days before I go. Perhaps this will all work out to for the best and allow me to adjust more quickly to the time in Korea (they are 16 hours ahead of where we are currently).

In other sad news: Because I'm not a reading whiz like my beloved husband I likely will not finish the book series I am in the middle of right now before we go. This has been the source of much weeping, wailing, and gnashing of teeth (not really, I just kind of like the word gnash. Part reminds me of gnosh, which is a word that appears in the series I am reading right now and it made me sad again to think of that).

In OTHER news...there really isn't any other news. I'm pretty much spent on news. Aside from the potentially embarrassing rupture of my pants the other day whilst visiting in-laws in Kanab--yeah, the only good pair of jeans I had up and DIED less than a week before we're leaving--but it resulted in me getting three new pairs of jeans (yes, THREE!) because Old Navy was having a buy two get one free deal. So in all, it was not that terrible. Although, I will miss those jeans.

The Curse

2011-06-13T23:33:00.000-07:00

Ever since people found out Adam and I are going to Korea we keep getting the oddest questions. The conversation goes something like this:

Me: "We're moving to South Korea for a year to teach English."

Person: "Both of you are going?"

Me: "Yes."

Now perhaps I am a tad hasty in this assessment, or maybe I expect too much of people. But really? I mean, we just got married four weeks ago. To me this is the kind of question that one should mentally process before asking. "Wow, she said they're going to Korea. I wonder if they'll both go. They just got married. And she did say 'we.' It only makes sense that they'd both go."

It's called a verbal cue and having mental acuity. Just a thought.

The second most popular conversation follows this line:

Person: "How long are you going for?"

Me: "A year."

Person: "Wow. A year's a long time! What do you do when you plan to get back?"

Me: "Finish school then move to wherever Adam gets into grad school and apply for teaching jobs."

Person: "Sounds like a pretty thought-out plan. Unless of course you bring home a little 'Made in Korea' with you, right?" *insert self-congratulatory laughter here along with a knowing nudge or wink.*

Me: "No. There will be none of that." *in serious tone with blank expression and no return of knowing look or nudge*

The first issue I take with this is, why is it now that we are married that it's ok for everyone to comment on our potential reproduction? Second, I know they mean it in good-natured fun, but when people say this I feel like they're trying to curse us with an accidental pregnancy. Like the mother's curse of getting a child that was just like you so you know how rotten you were. It feels like they're telling me, "I hope you are incompetent enough to have sex without protection/your birth control method fails so that you can have a baby you were completely unprepared for emotionally/mentally/financially because it's fun for me to say 'Made in Korea.'" Bottom line: I don't find it funny.

The last thing that most people ask:

Me: "We're going to South Korea for a year to teach English."

Person: "Oh my gosh aren't you scared?!"

What I want to say in response: "Yes. I intentionally do things that strike the fear of God into me so I can be reminded to be humble. I like feeling uncomfortable and that my life is as fragile as a butterfly's wing to be crushed at any moment. Makes me live so every moment counts. You should try it some time."

What I really say: "No. Not at all."

Granted, there is a thing called "healthy fear" that we should all maintain to stay alive; it's part of what keeps us careful, makes us pay attention to what we do, etc. But if I was literally afraid to move to another country, why would I take this job? This hearkens back to a question I had last semester when a professor asked a classroom of education students (translation: people who want to be/are studying to become teachers) what scares them most about teaching and someone put, "I hate being in front of groups of people" and someone else wrote "I'm really shy." WHY IN THE HELL ARE YOU GOING TO BE A TEACHER? I'm all for challenging yourself, facing your fears, and conquering the weaker parts of one's self, but really? The license and the title isn't going to suddenly make groups of people your friends, and you're not going to become magically outgoing. Pick a new profession.

The truth is Adam and I both love traveling, we like languages, and we like experiencing foreign cultures. We're looking forward to Korea. In fact, it can't come soon enough.

Definitely Not

2011-06-05T22:05:00.000-07:00

It has seemed, of late, that there is a strange flux of Mormon women who suddenly find their lives blog-worthy upon getting married. Then every detail must be recorded in minute detail because their lives have now begun and are deserving of being preserved in the annals of electronic history forever.

That's definitely not me. First, I've been blogging for over six years. Second, we've been married three weeks and just now am I getting around to posting.

Yes, the wedding was wonderful. Yes, everything went perfectly. Yes, we are happy. Other than that it's just waiting to get to Korea.

I imagine this transition has been much easier on me than Adam. Primarily because we are camping in my parents' basement until we leave, so I am still very much in my comfort zone. Adam is an easy keeper, but I can't believe this has been the best transition for him. We are both hoping to get to Korea as soon as possible so we can really start our life together on our own (sounds wrong--the together/on our own--but it makes sense).

I'm working until we go, and I've been trying to get as many hours as I can. Last week I ended with over 35 (I usually average 20-25), and next week I'm already looking at more than that. I feel part bad leaving Adam home alone all the time, until I realise that's what he's been used to for the last nearly 15 years and is probably perfectly fine with it.

It's funny how it feels like right now we're married with a safety net. We still pay bills and have responsibilities, but the full weight of adulthood is not yet upon us. I have no reservations about doing it with him. He's great. When I want to escalate a situation he remains calm. In the moment it's infuriating, but it's what I need. He's wonderful for balancing me out that way.

In other non-gushy news, I've been fighting with a nasty cold/flu/infection since before school ended. I'm now on a round of antibiotics/steroids that seems to be helping. Last week my tonsils were swollen to the point of restricting my breathing. When they rate the size of tonsils it's done on a four point scale. Mine were a four plus. We're really praying for this treatment to work because I have to be well to go to Korea. So far, things are looking up.

And we are doing our best to look up, too.

My Poor, Unfortunate EARS!

2011-05-06T21:30:00.000-07:00

No, I don't hate my ears. I don't think they are ugly or need reshaping, and for the most part they serve me very well. In fact, where I work the clients repeatedly ask me if we have recording devices hidden because I always seem to "know" what they've been talking about, to which I reply, "I hear everything." This is, of course, hyperbole. It's more basic social constructs. When you walk into a room and the group suddenly falls silent, or you see a series of knowing glances, it's pretty obvious they've been talking about you or something they shouldn't. Usually both.

But this week, my poor, poor ears are suffering. Which, in turn, causes me even greater suffering. My body fought long and hard against the spring cold that's been circulating. I was bombarded at work, school, and home. For three weeks I resisted. But then it was just too much. Within days I had gone from stuffy nose, coughing, and sore throat to eyes weeping mucus and a raging ear infection.

So bad, in fact, was my infection that my left eardrum "perforated." The most common question I get was, "Ooooh, didn't that hurt?" The idiotic YES seems a bit rude, thus I prefer, "Oh no, it was like a little french-tickler just snugged up inside my head until I couldn't take the pleasure anymore and my body just had to release the exuberance somehow." In reality, it's mostly annoying up until about three hours before the explosion. Then it is the most unbearable, excruciating pain that pounds through your entire head, down your neck, into your shoulders, it even makes your teeth ache. And there's not a thing you can do to stop it. When the eardrum finally breaks it just feels like a little "pop", then the ear continues to crackle, and fluid seeps out. This may sound like terrible news to those of you who don't routinely experience inner-ear problems. For those of us more familiar it's no big thing. Just a month or two of feeling like you're constantly walking around with an earphone in one side, and then it's right as rain again. However, the perforation of that eardrum did nothing to relieve the suffering in my right eardrum.

When I finally made my poor, college student, insuranceless way to the Doctor (you know, about three days too late) she told me that I was, "really, quite sick" that I had congestion in my sinuses and lungs, I had white stuff on my swollen tonsils, my left eardrum had a nice little hole and was still swollen and red, and that she wouldn't be surprised if my right eardrum perforated as well in spite of the 875mg of Amoxicillan she prescribed me to take twice a day for ten days (anyone else seeing a yeast infection coming? Yeah, that'll be BLISS for the honeymoon night--the same day I finish the Rx). She also recommended OTC Ibuprofen to possibly help with the inflammation. Well, I've had my fourth full day of antibiotics. The cough is drying up (and consequently hurting my chest more), no more goopy eyes, and my sinuses are even drying out. Alas, the ear has remained in a strange state of congestion. There are periods when I can hear more, but by about 5pm every evening it's as though someone has inserted a stopper into my "good ear" (if you can call it that), and I become instantly hard of hearing.

Well, I'm tired of not being able to hear. So I'm trying yet another homeopathic remedy that has been recommended to me by a friend. I say "yet another" because, in case you couldn't tell, I've had my share of ear problems.

One of my earliest childhood memories was throwing a tantrum on the landing of our apartment stairs while my dad was babysitting because my mom wasn't home and I just wanted her to fix my ear. I remember the pain was excruciating. I even knew that my kicking the wall was irrational. I just didn't know what else to do because it hurt so bad. I honestly don't recall my dad trying to stop me, and it was probably because he felt helpless.

An ENT (Ear Nose and Throat specialist) in Cincinnati told me, "Let's face it. You're a girl with ear problems. You've always had them and you always will. Your eustachian (pronounced ess-station) tubes don't drain correctly, and as a result you get ear infections." When I asked if there were any preventative measures he grimly shook his head "no." As a result of my many ear ailments I have been given a whole slew of home remedies. They range from the simple "put heat on it" to the ultra bizarre. Here is a non-comprehensive (albeit most memorable) list:

- Sleep on the other side so the stuff will drain out of your ear

- Put sweet oil in your ear

- Don't use a heating pad; find a nice smooth, flat rock and boil it. Wrap it in a towel and lay on that (this is from a man named Mark who says that "Doctor's don't know shit.")

- Use your own urine and put a few drops into your ear

- Mix equal parts water with vinegar OR hydrogen peroxide OR rubbing alcohol

- Clean your ears more regularly (despite the warning from any ENT NOT to stick anything into your ear, including cotton swabs, I do clean out my ears)

- Sleep sitting up

And now, the one I am trying tonight (no, I have not tried everything on that list--mainly the sweet oil because I've never located it, and the urine because that just be nasty), put a clove of garlic in your ear overnight to draw the toxins out.

Besides the general annoyance I have some added incentive to get my hearing back in say, oh 6 days 18 hours and 30 minutes because I'M GETTING MARRIED and I want to be able to hear and enjoy every minute of it. Hopefully this garlic works...

Breakdown

2011-04-05T09:52:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I had a breakdown. I really wanted to quit life because I seem to suck at it lately.

As we work on getting to Korea the thing that takes the longest is the fingerprint process that is sent to the FBI where they do a background check. It can take up to 12 weeks. We are five weeks in. Three weeks ago I received notice that my payment couldn't be accepted, so I resubmitted it. Yesterday I received a packet saying my fingerprints were not clear enough to be read. The ironic thing about that is when I did my fingerprinting the man did two cards, but in both of them he just did a straight press, not a roll. After leaving I reread my directions to ensure that I had done it right, and it specified that I must have them pressed and rolled. So I went back. That means I submitted THREE cards with my fingerprints on them. THREE!

Adam submitted two, one pressed and one rolled. His cleared just fine.

We can't continue the process until the fingerprint results come back, so we're waiting again. I keep reciting the serenity prayer (God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference). I know I can't control this. I know worrying and stressing about it will only cause me unnecessary anxiety. For those of you not yet familiar with my personality I'm a planner, I like to be organized and able to move through the paces of things. Despite my inability to successfully compute mathematical equations I am very much a formula, process girl. Maybe I'm more scientific theory. I become frustrated (yes, you will realise this happens a lot because it's not true to life) when I plug in all the things I'm supposed to do and don't yield my desired result in the prescribed amount of time. I know, I should be grateful it only took five weeks for them to tell me instead of the full twelve.

Should, should, should. We tell our clients that it's not healthy to "should" all over yourself. Yeah, I'm totally guilty of that right now. Sitting in a steaming pile of should.

Or jelly beans (for those of you have seen "Hop" which Adam and I did last night, and we liked it).

What He Really Said Was...

2011-04-03T21:49:00.000-07:00

Ok, so I couldn't find the paper Adam read from to ask me to marry him, but after FINALLY cleaning my room I have discovered the precious paper!

You may not really care as much as I do, but it's sweet and I'm sharing.

He dug, for what seemed like eternity, in his pocket to pull this paper (now securely taped into my journal) out. His hands were shaking, and it was so cute!

(Also, to avoid any accusations of plagiarism, this is a slightly modified version of something Spike says to Buffy in Season 7 during the episode "Touched.")

"I've been alive a bit longer than you, I've seen things you couldn't imagine, and done things I prefer you didn't. I don't always have a reputation for being a thinker. I follow my blood, which doesn't exactly rush in the direction of my brain. So I make a lot of mistakes, a lot of wrong calls. Almost thirty-four years, and there's only one thing I've ever been sure of: you. Hey, look at me. When I say "I love you," it's not because I want you or because I can't have you. It has nothing to do with me. I love what you are, what you do, how you try. I've seen your kindness and your strength. I've seen the best and the worst of you. And I understand with perfect clarity exactly what you are. You're a hell of a woman. You're the one, Chelsea."

Yup, sure did cry. Cried when he read it to me, cried when I shared it with my mom, cried when I reread it putting it in my journal today, and cried typing it here again. To say I'm "touched" might be an understatement. I am completely in lesbians with this man (that was a Scott Pilgrim joke, for those of you not in the know).

A Thousand Words

2011-03-26T05:58:00.000-07:00

That's what they say a picture's worth. I think they're underestimating my verbose nature. I'm considering doing a word count on this by the end. No, it's not a self-challenge to write long, I just know myself.

On Wednesday Adam and I met up with our photographer for our engagement photos. We decided to go with Ashwood Photography because the photographer is my former college roommate, Sherrie Heywood. The way we actually came about this was rather fortuitous. You see, ever since Sherrie and I discovered we both lived in Cedar City we say we need to get together for lunch. We finally did it the first time in December 2009 after saying we should for about six months. Ever since then we'd been saying we needed to do it again. This didn't happen until January of this year. While we were at lunch Sherrie and I were talking about what's been going on in our lives and she asked about being the photographer for our wedding.

I was a little concerned about working with a friend in a professional relationship, but I also knew Sherrie's personality, I was impressed with her work, and I wanted to help her get her photography business off the ground. I discussed it with Adam (can you guess what he said?) and my mom. We decided to make it official, so we told her we'd do it. In February Adam and I met with Sherrie and picked paper, discussed layout options, went over photography packages, etc. and we scheduled our engagements. Looking back it feels like FOREVER ago!

Anyhow, last week the date was closing in on us and so was the weather :/ So I began a campaign to all known Deities responsible for weather to clear their calendars for March 23 because it was MINE and I needed good weather. I am proud to say that prayer still works. In a rash of spring storms Wednesday was the only clear day all week, bookended by gusting winds, rain, snow, and general freakishly cold nastiness. Not only was Wednesday clear, it was beautiful.

I won't lie; I spent an obscene amount of time on my make-up and hair. I think it took me 10 minutes just to get my eye liner the way I wanted. I also took two hours the night before to pick what I was going to wear, only to grab something out of my mom's closet last minute the day of. The choosing of what to wear changed drastically from what I always imagined I wanted. I've been of the opinion that a wedding is a formal event. It's a big deal and people should dress up for it. Thus I had foresworn I would not wear jeans in my pictures, nor would my future-fiancée.

For a lot of things associated with the wedding Adam says he doesn't care (what he actually said is that in Spanish they have two ways of saying "I don't care." One means that the person literally does not care. The other is close to "it's all the same to me." He explained that it's not that it doesn't matter to him, but for the most part he just doesn't have an opinion on the things I ask him about. Fair enough.). On this, however, he dug his heels in. Our announcements and the pictures with them should represent us, as we are. We don't dress like that on a daily basis; therefore, no dress clothes. I wasn't ready to listen and steamrolled him up until Tuesday night when he stood up for himself, I realised he was right, and I conceded the point. Yup. We wore jeans (not that you can tell from the way Sherrie framed the pictures!).

We started out at Braun Books (a lovely used book store where we went on our first date for a reading) before heading down to St. George where the weather was absolutely gorgeous. All told we were taking pictures or traveling to take pictures from 1pm til 6:30pm. It was a long time, but it was a lot of fun.

Can I just say that I'm THRILLED we picked Sherrie? She made the day so much fun! She would laugh with us, say things to make us laugh, and just snapped away through it all. She even braved her fear of heights to attempt a shot she really wanted to try (she mocked us when she found out Adam and I both have fears of heights because we had made fun of her for being so cowardly). I think the fact that we know each other made the real difference in our pictures because she was able to capture more than good poses, she caught our personalities.

She posted the proofs for us Friday (can we say quick turn around?), and of the 45 pictures she put up I can honestly say there isn't a bad one in the bunch (of course, it's 45 of hundreds, but it's still a good selection). Of course there are some I like more than others, but that will always be the case. If you want to check out a sampling of our photos follow the link provided, click "Galleries" then click on our picture (we're the far right!).
I know I'm pathetic for doing so, but I fully admit I have gone to that gallery at least ten times since noon Friday. I just watch the slideshow again and again and again and again. Sometimes I stop it to get a really good look at a picture, and then I start it up again. Narcissistic much? Perhaps. But she made us look goooooood.

Long story short: not only are the pictures wonderful, it was a fabulous experience.
Oh, and Adam was an excellent sport. He didn't complain once :)

(Not including this part there are 970 words. Pretty durned close!)

Here's the Story

2011-03-16T20:41:00.000-07:00

About a month and a half ago Adam and I realised that his birthday would fall on my Spring Break. Our conclusion? VACATION! Where? None other than the city known as sin, Vegas! We weren't planning a prenuptial tryst (as we had been loving accused), Adam is actually writing a story and needed to do some research on the Stratosphere's tower. We ended up staying at the Stratosphere (hey, at just over $30 a night it was a great deal, in spite of being on the scarier part of The Strip).

Monday we arrived well before the 3pm check-in time, so we grabbed a bite to eat on Maryland Blvd at the Burger King. To give you an idea of the type of neighborhood it was, in order to use the bathroom you had to ask the manager to let you in (no, they didn't give you the key), there was no mirror, and I used TWO toilet seat covers just for an added measure of safety. After that we went to the Shark Reef at Mandalay Bay where we saw some GREAT creatures (least favorite: Golden Crocodile--it just looked sickly! most favorite: Giant Blue-Lipped fish!--it was shy and had the coolest designs on its face!). We also people watched and thoroughly enjoyed ourselves. We even videoed some unsuspecting women as they hesitatingly tried to touch the rays. We also laughed at the people who were afraid to walk over the glass bottom floor to the exit. As in, we spent 20 minutes just waiting and watching and laughing. Oh, we laughed :)

We eventually checked in, only to discover that our "resort fee" did not cover internet access, so we relied on the age-old phone book to locate some of the places we wanted to see. This was after we were verbally accosted by the gift committee who, unfortunately, could not help us because we were not married and did not have the same address. The used book store was closed, but we found a shop called "Peru Post." A new little shipping store that also carried some special Peruvian items...including Adam's favorite drink, Inca Cola! We also happened across a clothing exchange store, and made a quick turn through Barnes and Nobel. Lots of fun stuff there, but nothing for us. And dinner ended up at Chipotle.

Tuesday was Adam's birthday--happy 34th, Sweetheart!--so we started the morning at Roxie's 50's Diner in the Stratosphere. It wasn't bad, and Adam got a Cherry Ice Cream Soda. Yup. For breakfast. Birthdays a great excuses for eating whatever you want at any time of day. We headed back to the used book store and meandered, then went to a comic book shop. I purchased my first voluntary graphic novel, and also bought one of the two Adam was considering for his birthday, then he bought the other one. By then it was time for lunch, so we headed to Chipotle again. We stopped by Target (it's almost kind of a joke--anytime Adam and I go to St. George we go to Target and B&N). And then...it was back to Barnes and Noble (are we creatures of habit or what?!) where we both bought some Young Adult Fiction, and Adam purchased the Girl With the Dragon Tattoo trilogy on DVD.

Following a brief rest in our room we made our way up to the Fremont Street Experience. It was an experience, indeed. We wandered up and down, and back enjoying the people watching most of all. and the periodic person ziplining over our heads.

For dinner Adam wanted to go to a Peruvian restaurant he had been to before, but it had moved and changed it's name. After following my bad directions twice we made it there 20 minutes before they were supposed to close. Fortunately for us they were busy and it wasn't a big deal. We enjoyed some delectable ceviche and Chicha Morada (a sweet drink, purple in color, made from corn). Adam's food wasn't as good as he hoped, but mine was delicious. And the owner, Pablo, was wonderful. We also enjoyed a telenovela while we ate.

Finally, it was time to achieve the business purpose of our visit--the top of the Stratosphere tower. Adam's writing a story and needed specific details to make it real. I had a mini-fit about going up. It's freaking high! and you ride in an elevator :/ But we made it up without incident, and it wasn't as bad as I anticipated. The view really was incredible. I've never understood why the lights of Vegas appear so orangey-yellow. Adam took notes, we wandered around, even braved the outside observation deck, and then settled into one of the cushy sofas they have sitting up there.

After a while Adam said, "So I have another 'Buffy' quote. Do you want to hear it?" This may sound like idle banter, but he used a quote from "Buffy" to ask me on our first date. He pulled out a paper and read it to me (with some minor alterations), then dug into his pocket, dropped down on one knee and asked me to marry him. I cried. Not a lot. Just a little. And I said yes. He handed me the ring in the box. I pulled out the ring and said, "You're supposed to put it on!" So he did. And we just sat there and enjoyed the moment. In fact, we saved the news til morning so we could just enjoy having that between us.

Today was a lovely day. Breakfast at IHOP, then we drove to St. George and spent the afternoon with Adam's sister-in-law (and one of my newest favorite people) Jana before arriving back in Cedar. I part-hated coming home. Because it signifies the end of our vacation, and I hate coming home to a different house than him. But it's also good because I know that the faster these weeks go the sooner we get married and don't have to come home to different houses. So soon. But not soon enough.

All the...STUFF

2011-02-27T13:29:00.000-08:00

I am a fairly simple person. I have fairly simple tastes. I don't generally ask for much, but when I do it has a tendency to be kind of "big." With my wedding I don't want "big"--I never have. I want it simple, clean-looking, and fun.

I always thought wedding planning was stressful because of all the stuff people wanted. And when it comes to wedding there is lots of stuff. Flowers, cake, music, place, centerpieces, tablecloths, photographers, dress, people, decorations, book, tables, backdrops, food, favors, gifts, announcements, postage, addresses, fittings, colors, shoes, flatware, rings, moving...and I've only listed the teensiest beginnings of it all. There is also all the stuff surrounding weddings, like registering for gifts. Well to register for things you need to know what you want. In order to know what you want you should also know what you have. And then it's just a craps shoot to see if anyone actually buys or puts money on all the things you now have your heart set on owning.

Not to mention all the additional get-togethers. The bridal showers--having to put together guest lists for that, deciding what dates work, what kind of shower I'd like to have--the wedding brunch/luncheon. Finding a place, selecting who gets to come, and deciding on food for all of that, too.

When I said: no cake, no luncheon, no first dance I thought I was simplifying my life. Now I see why people do these things. Discounting the obvious "because they want to" they do it out of pressure. As soon as you go against the norm and say you want something different people go berzerk. "But you have to!" "It's part of getting married!" "You'll regret it if you don't!" "It's something I always wish I would have done!" "You only get to do this once!" "You should have everything you want!" "Sometimes you have to splurge a little!"

Seriously? Seriously. SERIOUSLY? Yup. Seriously.

I really am beyond thrilled, in fact I spent a while the other night trying to get the right combination of elated euphoric ecstatic blissful wonderous words to describe how I feel about Adam and marrying him, and they just aren't there. But I'm not thrilled because of the flowers or cake or announcements or pictures or centerpieces or backdrops or any of that. I'm thrilled to be joining my life to his, to starting on this new journey together, and I want to enjoy that.

So for now, for now I am sick of the stuff. I just want to be happy (and trust me, I'm pretty ridiculously happy--b had me describe it in a unit of measurement a while back and I believe my response was something to the effect of several thousand million gigatons excited). Kind of the reverse "Bride-zilla" right? I don't want it all, and all just the way I want it. I just want to be left alone.

My Stomach Has a Memory

2011-01-06T10:12:00.000-08:00

I'm sick. Again. Except this time it's my stomach, or some part of my digestive system. Anyhoo, the plumbing is messed up. This is never, ever a good thing. You see, my stomach has a memory and it's very, very good.

Any food I've ever eaten and later become sick from my stomach remembers all too well. One might say it holds a grudge. There was the cinnamon roll incident of '98, the Cafe Rio bust of '03, and it seems we're looking at the Subway/Pepsi explosion of '11.

My mother makes the most amazing cinnamon rolls. When I got sick I hadn't even eaten one of her's, it was somewhere else. But because the last thing I ate before I became ill was that cinnamon roll it was years before I could eat one. Now I can have the small one with only a dab of frosting.

Cafe Rio was a whole different story. I had moved out, it was my freshman year of college, and I went to Provo to visit a friend. Since moving out my diet had vastly improved (instead gaining the freshman 15, I lost it), and my stomach had shrunk considerably--not something I took note of at the time. So my friend and I went to Cafe Rio and I ordered what I always ordered, but I had to eat quickly because she was under time constraints, so I inhaled the burrito and drove home to Ephraim. Eight hours later that burrito resurfaced. I might suggest never finding a cilantro leaf in your tissue after blowing your nose...it's not pretty. It took almost a year before I could even set foot into another Cafe Rio. Then, when my mother squeezed lime onto her salad I started gagging, and had to go to the car and wait until they were done eating. Curious that of everything I ate in that burrito the aversion is the lime in the cilantro lime rice. Now I just ask for no rice, and am fine. But it's taken years to get to that place.

Which brings us to present day. I don't know what made me sick. I still don't know why I'm sick. But sick I am. Oooo-eeee! And since the last thing I ate was a Subway Oven Roasted Chicken sandwich on flat bread...guess who won't be frequenting that establishment for a while. Too bad, too, because I just earned a free foot long. The Pepsi comes into play as part of the treatment. Although it may seem somewhat counter-intuitive, drinking carbonated beverages actually helps settle the stomach. As a child my mother always bought me Sprite. Now I can't drink the stuff without going a little green around the gills and starting to feel queasy. Well, we had Pepsi on hand so that's what I've been drinking. And now, because I am sick, my stomach will associate Pepsi with this illness, and I fear I will no longer like my favorite soft drink.

I suppose it's all for the best. Afterall, I'm trying to lose weight, so why not knock off a few of the bad-for-me things? Yeah, that's what I'll do, use my stomach's magical memory to my advantage.

Big News and Minor Revelations

2010-12-27T22:55:00.000-08:00

We’ll start with the small stuff (I’ve got to come up with some way to get you to read through the whole blog! Or at least spend some time scrolling/searching for the “big news”). So one of the things I say most often to Adam is, “I’m brilliant!” True story. Ask him. Well sometimes I’m not so brilliant. Take the other night, for example. I turned on a movie and let the credits play while I puttered around getting some things settled before I sat down. Once I sat down I became engrossed in the previews. So engrossed, in fact, that at one point I forgot what movie I had selected to watch. By the time the DVD menu appeared I was no longer sure I wanted to watch this movie, or if my choice had been swayed by a preview. I like to think I’m not the only person this happens to.

Next minor revelation which isn’t really a revelation so much as a nightmare come true, and a testament to gratitude for things I should’ve appreciated more while I had them. What is the one wish of any insuranceless person? You know, beside no catastrophic event. Please, please don’t let me get sick! Guess who got sick. Yup. I couldn’t get the cold that everyone else has, or even the flu that some people have been passing around. No, no, no. I had to go and get myself saddled with strep throat. Sometimes I really do believe my body is intent on destroying itself. But with the timely assistance of a kindly doctor friend I was on a strict regimen of antibiotics and am feeling significantly better.

Last minor revelation (for today). I had a semi-annual review with my boss today. I thought it had gone well, and it felt like it was wrapping up when she says to me, “You seem disgruntled.” Well let me tell you, I was quite taken aback! Disgruntled? Really? Isn’t that the word that newscasters use to describe people who go into their places of employment and have psychotic episodes resulting in the need for news coverage? Needless to say, it was not a feeling word I wanted applied to me. But her insight into me not being on an even keel was well-aimed. It was nice to express some concerns and receive her open-minded responses. By the time it was winding down I was reduced to a more mild grade of “frustrated” and now I feel pretty good.

Ok, you’ve waited long enough…

BIG NEWS
My mother and sisters and I have begun a new blog in which we are equal co-authors. It will document our battles with weightloss. For Christmas the three of us sisters were given Flip Video MicroHD recorders. We will be using them to post videos to build some character with our posts. We hope that you’ll check us out at http://fivemonthstofit.blogspot.com.

Why five months? Well, we weren’t just inspired by the new year and resolving to be healthier (although that is a good reason, and Natasha and Mama were already on that track). SPOILER ALERT: More BIG NEWS! Adam and I are getting married in May. No, he hasn’t proposed. And no, I won’t let him until March because I refuse to be engaged for more than two months, but we are getting married in May. So we have five months to fit into our wedding best, and to get fit!

(FYI: If you go busting over there now you’re not going to find anything because I just set it up today and nobody’s posted anything yet, but watch for some new stuff over the next few days, and keep tuning in over the next five months!)

Today

2010-12-19T14:33:00.000-08:00

Why is it when I have nothing to write about in my life I am really good at journaling, then when things worth writing down are actually happening I am an epic failure? I maintain it is because rather than writing I am out doing. Yet the number of hours I've racked up at home this week would suggest otherwise.

The honest truth is I am in The Good Place. I talk a lot about "taking it to The Bad Place" or "I went straight to The Bad Place" or "I'm in a Bad Place." But I don't talk enough about being in The Good Place. But I'm here. It feels kind of like jinxing my happiness. If I actually admit I'm in The Good Place the world will tug the rose colored carpet out from under my feet, tossing me into a black sky, leaving me broken again.

Today I want to trust The Good Place.

I want to believe it can last, that I can be here, and that I deserve to be happy. Sometimes, and I can't speak for men because I'm not one, I think women don't allow themselves to believe they deserve anything. Including happiness. We are so concerned with making sure everyone around us is happy that we forget ourselves.

Today I am happy.

Some may say it's all because of Adam. It would be unfair and untrue if I did not admit that I am happier than I ever thought I could be because of him. But it isn't all because of him. A friend (thanks again, Rata!) put it this way, "He is the other half of you that you never knew was missing." She's right. He is. That said, I had to be a complete me before the other half could fit. He showed me, even though I didn't think it was, the wound--that emptiness, that sadness, that ache--was healed. I was healed. And I was whole.

Today I am whole.

Because I am whole there is a new half to me who makes me smile all the time, who helps me find the silver lining when I want to be angry, and who teaches me how to be a better version of myself. He is more than I could hope to dream for, and better than anyone I could ever deserve.

Today I am in love.

Emotional Rollercoaster

2010-12-15T23:42:00.000-08:00

So...finals this year has been harder than any other year in the history of ever. I'm not sure why, exactly. I mean, four years ago this coming May I was coping with the news that my best friend was dating my exboyfriend of a week, and that she was going to meet his parents. That seems harder. Perhaps it's being away from the rigor of academic life, since the mish was the first break I've taken from education since Pre-school. It might also have to do with being divided in mind as I have someone who is much more interesting than any book or paper in my life, now.

But the weirdest part was after I turned in my last paper (final grades were posted today, two As, three A-s for a semester GPA of 3.83, WOOT!), the stress didn't end like it always has. Instead, it multiplied exponentially. Things went haywire at work (see previous post), and then there was this inexplicable weirdness between Adam and me.

Tonight, as I was I visiting with a dear friend in Kentucky who was up WAY past her bedtime (I love you Rata Stevens Robinette!), and I was highlighting all of Adam's amazing qualities I realised something. I've been taking advantage of him. I've been demanding, and rude, and been treating him downright terribly. I felt (and feel) awful. He's had to cope with people treating him this way his whole life, and now he has been getting it from me, too! After a good conversation we came to the conclusion that neither of us have been in the best of places lately, and now that we've identified the problem we know what to do.

And, amazingly, most of the icky feeling went away. Especially when, because he really is phenomenal, he says to me, "Don't worry, you're not getting rid of me that easily." Oh I love him.

Sidenote: I also realised how much I completely depend on my bestie, Bethany, to be my moral center and guide. She's been in the Dominican Republic for five days and will be gone for five more, and I'm not quite sure what I'll do without her! I love you, b!

Could Use Some Cheering

2010-12-11T16:52:00.000-08:00

Today. What is there to say about today? At work I thought I was being helpful when I donated the clothes in the back of the van to DI (after reading that someone loaded them and then the donation center was closed). Turns out the clothes for donation were donated, and the stuff in the back of the van was t-shirts for us to do a service project. Seriously? What are the odds?! How often do clothing donations get donated--without notation--and new clothes appear in bags in the same place--again, without notation? I can't help but feel responsible, because I'm the one who made the mistake. At the same time, I don't feel entirely to blame. Blech.

Then, after that high note, I came to my parents house after work and saw the newspaper on the table. Not unusual. Yay for the Brian David Mitchell conviction that takes up 3/4 of the page...and then I see another headline. "8 arrested in online prostitution sting" (you might find the article here). Not only does it have that attention-grabbing headline, it has mugshots of the individuals. Who is first? Only my high school ASL teacher, and quite possibly one of the most influential people during that time in my life. I cannot help but to think of his family, how it will jeopardize his career, and how--more than anything--I feel so deceived because I believed in him, I trusted in him, and then to see this...I pity him.

In other, more positive/exciting news...while I was driving home I passed Santa Claus--in full regalia--driving a red Ford truck. He waved kindly. I'm not sure if that's just because he's nice, or if it means good things for Christmas this year (hehe). Also, I've officially started working on Adam's Christmas present and I'm super-duper excited for it! I would put samples up as a teaser for the final product, but since he reads the blog there will be no ruining of surprises.

Bad Writing JuJu

2010-12-07T23:48:00.000-08:00

There is something about being forced to write that sucks all the fun out of it. Like reading a book. Chances are good that reading it without being required to somehow make it better. For instance, I really like to write. In fact, I would like to do it more often. And yet I find myself stuck in this finals week conundrum. I have papers to write that I cannot sit down and force myself to get down on paper.

Today I made the most valiant effort so far. I went to the library, found a table near a jack so my laptop wouldn't die, set out all my study materials: notebook, the good pen, research, water, iPod with the "Writing Music" playlist set, and sat down to write. About four sentences into my introductory paragraph a startling thought happened upon my little brain. I didn't have the book I was analyzing. I didn't have the anthology I was drawing the theory from. I had absolutely nothing I needed!

No worries, I thought, I can save this. I can start writing my other paper, yeah. I've already been functioning with that theory today, I'll just start writing that paper...no, no wait. I need the anthology for that, too.

To quote one of my favorite songs from Beaches, "And the sigh...that issued forth from [Chelsea's] mouth was so loud that it was mistaken by some to be the early onset of the Siroccan Winds which would often roll through the Schwarzwald with a vengeance!"

Still bent on being productive I spent an hour writing one heck of a kick-a introductory paragraph and outlining the rest of the essay. And it was there, somewhere amidst the rather useless, but pointedly so, scratching of my pen that I lost my oomph.

That's right, my oomph. That burst of motivation to work and be successful, and to complete the projects. The oomph got died. If I even began to try to write now I would be drooling my way through page ten of my notebook before I could get three words down. There's something so drab about writing in the academe. It's just so droll. Although, strange-and-slightly-warped-high-point, I do get to insert a bit of necrophilia into my analysis of Othello, so that's fun.

Oh, oh, best part of the day! So we had this presentation for my critical literature and theory class. We were to pick a theory and an artifact (read: book, song, movie, etc.) and analyse the artifact using the theory. Initially the groups were to be between 4-5 people (some ended up with six and there was one with only two). Well the two were initially in our group, but decided to break off when we would not concede to do a more serious song (we had firmly settled on "Show Me the Meaning of Being Lonely" by the Backstreet Boys). Come presentation day we are to take ten minutes per group to share our ideas. There were six groups total. Theoretically this should take us 60 minutes. Theoretically.

We ended up being last. Who came before us? None other than the traitorous two, who also chose to use the same theory and a song for their artifact. All of the other groups had gone over on time. We were now one hour and thirty minutes into the presentations. What did the group of two do? They took fifteen minutes! FIFTEEN! Not only did this only leave us three minutes to do our presentation, one of our group members had a final immediately following this one. So what did we do? In GameSpeak: PWNED (pronounced "pont" and, as is visible, misplaced the "p" for the "o" in "owned) them.

The class, and the professor, loved us. With good reason. We. Were. Brilliant. And we did it all in seven minutes.

Loving This

2010-11-25T22:48:00.000-08:00

I am absolutely loving this stage of my life. Not so much the three-10-page-essays-with-5-academic-sources-and-in-class-presentations-next-week part. More the spending-all-my-free-time-with-Adam and enjoying-the-holidays-with-family-and-Adam parts.

Yesterday we went to Kanab where I met his parents, a brother-in-law and one of his nieces. His parents live in this lovely historical home that is cozy and wonderful. His mother made lunch, I visitied with his father, and Adam played the piano and sang (AUWOOGA!--can we say love?!). It was totally relaxed, no pressure. Just nice to sit and visit. While Adam was doing the dishes from lunch (his mother said I'm a good influence because he hasn't done that in a long time) she thanked me for getting him to come home. It'd been a long time since he went to Kanab. I just smiled, but I should have told her it was really his doing.

On our way back we stopped in Hurricane to visit his brother Thearon and his wife Jana. We were surprised to find some of her family there, and were invited to go to dinner with him. They are so much fun! It was really precious when we were leaving his brother hugged me and said, "You already feel like part of the family." *melt*

With gusting winds, lots of holiday traffic, and less-than-intelligent fellow travelers by the time we arrived in Cedar City poor Adam had had enough. He was running on five hours of sleep and had been through a long day. And I still love him. The sweeter part was after he went home he texted me and apologised for being crabby. Really? A person can't have a bad day? I just chalk it up to life.

Today was the real deal, though. He came to Thanksgiving Dinner at Grandma's house. We were missing 21 people, but we still had a crowd of 40. Did I mention he doesn't like crowds? Or being the center of attention? After Grandpa finished blessing the food Mama announced, "And we brought Adam for all of you to meet." Fortunately, nobody heard her.

He. Was. Brilliant. Everybody loves him. He fits right in. I always knew he would.

On our way to pick him up Daisy and Levi rode with me. Daisy asked, "Is he going to be our uncle?" I told her she should ask him herself. She refused, claiming to be too scared, but told me I should ask him for her. When he climbed into the car I told him what she had said. He replied, "I refuse to answer on the grounds that I might be incriminated."

Yes, I am willing to close my eyes to the three-10-page-essays-with-5-academic-sources-and-in-class-presentations-next-week part and just revel in this moment a little longer. I'll need it to get through that next part.

Thank You, David Cassidy

2010-11-15T20:53:00.000-08:00

My relationship with Adam is unconventional. We don't do things "normal" because, well, we're not normal. The part I love most is that we share pretty much whatever we're thinking. We also relate a lot through music, and at times will message in song lyrics.

Geeky? Yes. But so are we.

Tonight we had watched a few more episodes of Firefly and were just being cozy, not needing to talk when he says,

"Of all things, I've had this David Cassidy song in my head all afternoon."

"Which song?" I ask.

He gave me a little kiss in between telling me each word. It went kind of like this...

"It *kiss* goes *kiss* like *kiss* this *kiss* 'I *kiss* think *kiss* I *kiss* love *kiss* you *kiss*...'"

Being the sentimental fool I am, I immediately responded, "You think, huh?"

He replied, "No, I'm more sure than that."

Yeah, he's presh. I'm thinking of keeping him.

Emerging Adulthood

2010-11-11T09:45:00.000-08:00

I've been playing phone tag with my older sister over the last few days. We are dying to hash out all the details of my emerging relationship. We're women, it's what we do.

The other day she tried calling me, but I was working, so I returned her call later. My six-year-old niece answered. After she figured out it was me, she talked a little more, and I left the message to tell her mom I tried to call. Before I could hang up she said,

"Wait, wait. How's your dating going with your friend?" That's right, that's how big this news is in my family--the six-year-old is concerned with what's happening.

Upon relating this story to my sister she laughed, and told me that when her mother-in-law came in my niece announced, "Grandma, did you know that Chelsea is getting dated?"

That's right world. Chelsea is getting dated. And she's getting dated good.

Twitterpated

2010-11-06T12:42:00.000-07:00

What a whirlwind of a week…

It started not so great still being sick and adding a ridiculously timed UTI. I reached a rather all-time low on the homework front. Yesterday I received an assignment back. Eight out of twenty-five. May as well have not turned it in at all! Oh well, I’ve got four weeks to redeem myself. Right?

That might be a little complicated.

Beside that my professors all scheduled my big papers the same week—seriously? Do they not collaborate?—I have something new occupying the majority of the space in my mind, much as I try to shove and fight it into its compartmentalized space in my head.

There’s this guy.

He’s not just any guy. He’s great. The story actually begins before this week. I have Creative Nonfiction (CNF) with him. For the last few weeks I’ve been fascinated by him. There are no words to explain why. It’s this crazy magnetic attraction, and an inexplicable I-really-need-to-get-to-know-you siren song. But he’s impossible to read. Like, I graduated in interpersonal communication, including an entire semester on non-verbal communication. This guy is a blind, deaf mute; well, he makes me feel like one.

I’m pretty ballsy. I’m not afraid to take the lead and just go for something, but I usually act on a cue that the interest might be reciprocated. So I was a chicken and didn’t go for it. My friend Bethany told me to just go for it, so I promised her if he didn’t do anything about it by the end of the semester I would ask him out (that way if he wasn’t interested I didn’t have to face him three days a week and feel like an idiot).

Two weeks ago there was a shift that, at the time, seemed nothing but a nuisance. I was sick. By the second week I was exhausted and decided to take sick days from school to get well (but I already wrote about that). I knew I missed something in CNF, so I just shot an email to my professor asking her what I needed to do. Then, through my mucus lined membranes an idea slowly burbled to the surface.

An in! I knew he was on Facebook from something he had said, so I found him, and requested he be my friend. In the “personal message” box I said something to the effect of, “This is me asking you to be my friend…and a shameless plea for help to know what we did in CNF.” He didn’t get the message until it was too late for me to get it about the homework, so he felt bad (oops!), but we became fb friends. I put little hints out there, but did not expect much.

Then came the email. In short, it was the cutest thing ever. And he asked me on a date. The best part was, he didn’t just ask me out, he had a plan. It was a good plan. It was a great date.

It took everything in my power not to get too excited. Beside that I was interested in him this was a first for me. I’ve never met someone in person, and had them think enough of me to ask me out on a date. Riding that high was enough, so the added attraction was shooting sparks into the tinder and I just couldn’t do that to myself if, for some cosmically unjust reason, things failed.

But they didn’t fail. Epic win.

Anybody who knows me knows I’m touch oriented. My friends and I great each other with a hug on a daily basis. But it’s not just friends, almost anybody I have a one-on-one conversation with I touch on the arm or hand or shoulder or knee during the course of our conversation. It’s called skin hunger. I crave touch. And if I’m interested? TOUCH! But with his stonewalling nonverbal, it was like hanging a big “DO NOT TOUCH” sign for me. If you know me, I broke the rules, and I touched. You would have thought I shocked him when I casually draped my hand across my leg and his while visiting with my roommate. I left it there for a minute or two longer before removing it.

I knew if I would’ve asked for a hug when he left he would’ve given me one because he was a gentleman (yeah, like opened all the doors and did everything right kind of gentleman), but I figured I’d already pushed him out of his comfort zone enough for one night.

As it turns out…he’s totally into me. Wanted to kiss me and everything. Yeah, the feeling’s mutual. Saw him, outside of class, three times in three days. And, let’s be honest, if I wasn’t out of town this weekend, we’d probably see each other today, too. I’m cooking dinner for him on Tuesday.

All the excitement and twitterpation does not come without some reservation. He has a history that caused some flashbacks in me I never anticipated. My kneejerk reaction was to run away. I just barely moved into a good space in my life after the last time. It took a year to put the pieces of my life back together. But reason prevailed. First, I have a history that could be scary, too. Second, I can’t make him pay for someone else’s mistakes. So with reckless abandon I have thrown caution to the wind and submitted myself completely to whatever this turns out to be.

I can’t wait.

The Suckyness of Sickness

2010-10-28T22:58:00.000-07:00

Eleven days and counting. That's how long I've had this cold. ELEVEN DAYS. Quite frankly, it's about 7 too many. My false bravado lasted through day four, but with no weekend, midterms, and throwing caution to the wind for a stellar biography...my resolve crumbled.

I took two "personal health days" on Monday and Tuesday; of course I didn't actually rest all day. I ran the errands I had been putting off, I still had a quiz in Spanish, and of course I couldn't not show up at work. That said, I wasn't out of bed before 10 am either day, and one night was asleep before 10 pm.

The result...sicker than before and now behind in five classes.

However, there is karmic justice in the world. I cannot be well (which is clearly the ideal), but my professors are dumping assignments from their syllabi right and left. After a professor dropped an assignment in one class I muttered, "Thank you Lord Jesus" and a girl laughed at me. Little did she know it was a sincere, heart-felt, honest prayer of thanks.

I don't think I could handle one more late paper right now. You see, I have this masochistic trait for demanding excellence of myself. This does not include groveling, excusing, late work, make-up tests, or getting less than an A on anything. Therefore sickness + behind = a whole lot of bad angry. And coughing.

Oh the coughing. Today I coughed so hard I almost threw up. I also coughed so hard tears started streaming down my face, and my professor stopped class to make sure I was ok. I eventually had to excuse myself to go have a royal coughing fit in the bathroom (where I'm sure it sounded like I was retrieving last week's lunch from my lower intestine through my esophagus). Afterward I was exhausted, like they say people who have seizures get. I just wanted to go to sleep.

But no, instead I walked to the middle of campus to get lunch, walked back past where I had started to the end of campus to eat and go to class. Class let out early, which only meant I could make more of my staff meeting that I was missing, and then I show up to work to find I am doing the paperwork with a new client (a process that takes at least two hours).

But it's ok because it's almost over, and tomorrow I can take a nap. I hope.

An Open Letter to the "Polka Dots"

2010-10-13T22:02:00.000-07:00

My roommates and I invent words. We have our own unique "register" (set of commonly used words used by a specific group of people in an uncommon way). A few months ago we went to the Jack Johnson concert where we observed a common social phenomenon. One teenage boy. Three teenage girls. One blanket. Let the entertainment begin.

One girl was clearly more ambitious than the others. She was wearing a blue polka dotted shirt, thus we dubbed her the "polka dot." If the Pink Bible really existed this girl would have been a dedicated scriptorian. She used every tool in her arsenal, she laughed copiously, she laid the flirt on thick, and about every third second she would brush his forearm, or leave her hand lingering on his shoulder.

But she was not alone. One of her friends was willing to play, too. She was a little more mild, but was still putting the moves on. As the sun set the group settled onto the blanket, Polka Dot on the left of Solo Boy, Contender on his right, and two shunned friends on the end of the blanket. Then what happens? Oh, the Polka Dot makes a power play, wedging herself between the Contender and the boy forcing the Contender out of physical contact! Polka Dot owned the Contender.

We were literally clapping and cheering. Then came the twist. Polka Dot is trying to work it, Contender has thrown in the towel, and what does Solo Boy do? He starts talking to the only girl who has shown no interest whatsoever; the one on the far edge of the blanket.

Why? Because he's not interested in Polka Dot or the Contender, and Uninterested Girl is safe.

So Polka Dots, this is for you. LEAVE THE MEN ALONE!

There is something to be said about a woman who knows what she wants and goes after it (trust me, I'm that kind of woman), but there is something to be said for subtlety, finesse, and holding back at times. The thing to say is: DO IT. There is an art and a balance to be struck in pursuit.

Keep the image of the hunter in mind. If you are constantly charging through the forest looking for prey you're not going to find it because it is going to be hiding from you. You need to be out there, part of the action, but it's important to stop, listen, pay attention to what's happening, and adjust your course as necessary.

So Polka Dot, maybe it's time you start using some Camouflage.

The Rant on Hole-y Jeans

2010-10-13T21:24:00.000-07:00

On Monday I was leaving campus and passed a fellow student who had just climbed out of a car. No big deal. That happens all the time. Then to my horror I realised that the nightmares of millions were coming true--he had come to school with no pants on! No, no wait. He was wearing pants, but the gargantuan gaping hole that encompassed his entire right thigh and knee misled me.

What is more disconcerting is that I could see his whole hairy thigh. This means one of two things: 1) He was wearing briefs, or 2) He was going commando. Do people seriously still wear briefs? Do they still make briefs? Perhaps I should write a letter...

At any rate, what is with these "jeans"? I realise we are in between seasons and it's hard to know whether to wear shorts or pants, but wearing half-short/half-pant just is not advisable. Not now. Not ever. Who knows, perhaps it was a Halloween costume test.

Just putting that out there.

Inspiration

2010-10-04T12:58:00.000-07:00

There is something magical about Fall. People talk about Spring being full of possibilities and new beginnings. For me it's all about Fall. I feel like I can do anything when the season shifts, when you need a jacket in the morning and just before the sun sets, when the true colors of the trees shine through their green masks and they let the world know the brilliance they've been hiding all summer long.

I want to show my brilliance. I want to radiate like those crimsons and coffees and bronzes. Fall is my new beginning. There are so many possibilities and chances waiting to be taken. I've always said I want to get married in the fall because each year it feels like the perfect time to find love and just have it explode into life.

No love yet this year, but here's hoping.

The past few days I've felt incredibly grateful for what I have. Not that I'm not usually pretty optimistic about the opportunities I've been afforded in life, I'm incredibly blessed, but the last few days have thrown this into even sharper relief.

I work in a residential treatment facility for recovering drug addicts. It is my great privilege to work among such courageous individuals, and to take them to NA and AA meetings where they can share their stories and find greater inspiration, strength and hope. Over the past seven months I have come to love the 12 Step Program worked in those meetings. It's changed my life.

Saturday morning I sat next to a wonderful woman who simply said, "Life is too short. Life is too [effing] short to be worried about who is holding the remote control and who is right. I used to be really concerned with who is right, and I'm learning more and more that it's not me, and I'm learning to deal with that." Powerful? I think so.

Last night a client asked me to help her with her creative expression (when they create a visual and written work to represent their past, present, and hope for the future that they complete close to the end of their stay in treatment). She had written some really beautiful words in the attempt to create a poem. I could see the potential and power of what she was trying to convey, so I gave here a really difficult challenge. I asked her to put the poem into a form (one that I thought was hell the first time I encountered it). The Villanelle--see! It even sounds enigmatic. I'm really glad she accepted the challenge.

The best part was the look on her face. It gave me the this is why I do what I do feeling. To see her excitement, her desire to try something hard, something she'd never done before. That's money.

I've had that a few times lately. Another client has been struggling to find her Higher Power ever since she came into treatment. Anybody who knows anything about the 12 Steps knows you can't work them until you have a Higher Power. I could see defeat in her tears a few weeks ago when she expressed to me that she'd been trying to find a Higher Power so much without success that she didn't know what else to do. I did something kind of backwards. I gave her permission to quit finding a Higher Power and just do the assignments she had been given. The weight she felt lifted was visible. Four days ago she stuck her head around my door and said, "Hey, I may have found my Higher Power. No, I do have a Higher Power. This week it all just fell into place and everything fits and makes sense now. I just wanted you to know." My impending release of hormones may have something to do with it, but I was almost moved to tears.

That's money. This is why I do what I do. The job doesn't pay great, the hours aren't always wonderful. I hardly have a weekend. But I get to see people's lives literally change before my eyes. Who couldn't love that?

A Long Time Gone

2010-09-09T08:55:00.000-07:00

It feels like I've lived three lifetimes since I posted last. Looking back my last post-date is shockingly close to today considering what I felt like I've been through.

School has started and the last two weeks I feel like I've been a wreck; not to mention running six quarts of oil in a four quart engine (no, I don't know anything about mechanics but I heard a mechanically savvy man say that once and it sounds like it fits, so there. Copped.).

I think the most brilliant part of my semester is going to be wrapped up in Creative Nonfiction. It is also the most time consuming and emotionally hammering. I spent four days last week crying cathartic tears as I wrote and worked through experiences in the recent and not-so recent past. I desperately wish--in a way--that I could quit all my other classes and focus solely on this. It would be like a workshop for what I desire to do with my life; sit and write day after day, interview friends about past experiences, talk to family about the unofficial "secrets" and explore my own understanding of experiences as they shaped my life.

Alas, four other classes (officially, five unofficially) vie for my time and daily allotments of time.

All in all things are going well. Roommate situation is not bad. School is getting better (only to get worse with three major papers coming up in short order, two tests in the last two days, and another coming up next week), and life feels a little more manageable.

Side Note: What is with all the bizarre theatre people in my classes this semester? I have at least two where they dominate the class make-up and I feel like I'm losing my mind. I know I've taken it to the bad place when I feel like I'm wasting time by not spending free time discussing the nuances of Shakespeare's words and Aristotle's theories as they relate to actors on the stage. WTF?

The D-Word

2010-08-13T04:10:00.000-07:00

When I worked with Kindergartners they would say things like, "She just said the B word!" To be diplomatic I would ask them what "B word" that might be, at which point I'd get a wet, lingering whisper close to my ear with a cupped hand, "Shut up." Sometimes when I'm trying to remember something I'll say, "It starts with a V" only to realise approximately 47.2 seconds later that it, in fact, started with a J.

But this time I really mean the D-word. Perhaps not the D-words mothers of young children, or those who are once-again single are thinking. No, this is by far a more rewarding/grueling experience.

Disneyland.

To start, am I the only person in the world who positively abhors "It's A Small World" but rides it every trip just because her mother loves it? The puppets, and the singing, and the same song over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over (are you getting the picture yet?) again...I don't care how many languages it's in! The pitch never changes! The tune is the same! By the time we float out I'm growling through clenched teeth and doubled-up fists, "It's a world of laughter, a world of TEARS!"

However, to be fair, I still love Dumbo. It's one of my first Disneyland memories. Up and down, up and down, flying on Dumbo's back with a magic feather. And it's just that. Magic.

For the first time in many trips there were small children with us on our visit to the Happiest Place on Earth. For Christmas 2009 we were given this trip. All told there were 41 of us from my mother's side. It's the first family vacation I've been on with my older sister in seven years. She has three children ages 6, 4 (he turned four there--it was pure bliss), and 15 months. There is nothing quite like seeing Disneyland through a child's eyes. We sprung a whopping $38 a pop to have character dinner at Goofy's Kitchen (located at the Disney Resort--not even CLOSE to Disneyland). It was worth every cent. We met Goofy, Pluto, Cinderella, Aurora (Sleeping Beauty for those of you not in the know), Minnie, and Chip (from Chip and Dale of the Rescue Rangers, not to be confused with Chippendale's...). Even the toddler LOVED the characters. It was totally precious to watch him run up to Koda in California Adventure with his eyes open wide, arms spread, and huge smile on his face.

For as much as I was grumpanilla (yeah, go figure) the lines didn't seem that long. The weather was perfect. Everything just seemed to work out.

And during one of my five waits for Space Mountain I was pondering whether or not my nephew who turned four would remember any of this. But at the age of four I made my first trip to Disneyland. I remember Dumbo and I remember Space Mountain. I rode it with my mom (who hates roller coasters). I was wearing a mint green sweatsuit set with a white panel complete with Care Bears (we are talking old-school legit; this was 1989, after all) across the chest. I remember loving Space Mountain. I remember my mom pointing out how my shirt lit up under the black lights. And I remember meeting Mickey Mouse. Back then characters didn't have the scheduled stations like they do now, at least it doesn't seem like they did. Finding a character was a chance meeting. We looked for him all day to no avail. And then, like a commercial, as we were walking across the Sleeping Beauty Castle bridge back to the main square there he was, all in black. It was dark, and it was perfect. It was the only thing I had wanted from the whole trip, and I got it.

41 people. 4 generations. 864 miles. 8 vehicles. 8 days. Christmas 2009-Disneyland 2010. Countless adventures, priceless memories.

Just an Idea

2010-07-27T22:31:00.000-07:00

My friend Loni has been harassing me since January to move out with her. I very consistently and plainly told her no.

She is very persistent.

I am a person of very strong will, and won't do anything I don't want to. Loni is now my roommate. That's right. 26 (almost) years later and I finally moved out of my parents' basement. Go me! And all it took was six months of much-needed pestering. As part of my graduation into independent-ish adulthood I decided to refinish my childhood dresser (that story and pictures to come). It was a really fun project!

Now all the boxes have been packed, unpacked, and I've settled in. New apartment here I come.

Random errant thought: I keep noticing the "Monetize" tab on here, and tonight--part out of boredom, part out of the scary future of having bills to pay--I checked it out. It doesn't sound too terribly shabby. Then I reread some of my older posts. I can't pimp my writing out like that. It just doesn't feel right.

That's all.

To All the Girls With "Pretty Faces"

2010-07-19T15:46:00.000-07:00

I've been ruminating on this topic for some time. The title came to me a while ago (seems kind of like a riff on Cormac McCarthy's All the Pretty Horses because of the repetition with the ending sounds), but the words have taken a while to form. In fact, I'm not quite sure I've got them nailed down the way I want, but we'll work from here and see where it goes.

I think this idea really started to percolate when a lovely friend (known simply as "B", but we usually type it "b" because she's small in stature) was talking about some friend-of-a-something-someone-or-other who gets paid to publish a blog about the daily pains of being large-breasted. An inconsiderate male in b's life recommended she write one about being flat-chested. This isn't a post about boobs. Heaven knows I know plenty about that, but I decided to stick with something I know better and have known even longer.

This is a post about being fat.

We're not talking "I'd really like to lose three pounds" pseudo-fat. We're talking flabby-arms, lumpy-wrists, cankles, dimply-knees, back-fat-hanging-in-folds, multiple-rolls-on-the-belly, thighs-have-never-not-rubbed-together, I-didn't-even-know-I-had-collar-bones, my-facial-shape-might-be-something-else-under-these-mounds-of-round, I'm-afraid-to-cut-my-hair-short-because-it-shields-less-of-my-person, my-belly-button-is-a-cavern, I've-never-been-pregnant-and-am-covered-with-stretchmarks, the-fashion-world's-concept-of-XL-doesn't-even-begin-to-cover-one-of-my-butt-cheeks-let-alone-my-bust, I-don't-fit-in-the-airplane-seat, F-A-T fat.

I hope you're laughing. You should be. It's funny. Have you ever noticed how most comedians are fat, or not-attractive, usually both? The world expects fat people to fall into one of two polarized groups: fat and funny, or fat and bitter (of course there is the veiled fat-and-bitter-who-feigns-funny-to-make-people-happy-while-secretly-loathing-them, but we won't go there. The world's not ready to relinquish it's stereotypes). There is also the expectation that all fat people secretly feel like the contestants on The Biggest Loser who bawl about never being loved, kissed, etc.and that we all have a deep yearning to "be like everyone else."

Newsflash: The super-duper secret answer (for this fat girl) is I do and I don't. See, fat people can be complicated, too!

Sure, it would be nice to shop at any store I wanted and to know that the outfit will look the same on me as it does on the mannequin in the window. It would be nice not to have my love-handles ache for three days after a transcontinental flight because they were mashed under the armrests in the economy section of the plane. It would be lovely to dance and not feel like one hip-swish caused reverberating shock waves across the rest of my gelatinous sub-dermal-self.

But it's also very much a part of who I am. It's kind of how I identify myself. I've always been the biggest. It's nice not counting calories every meal. It's funny to see how surprised people are at my flexibility and agility (fat and active, there's a new one for ya!). And to be perfectly honest, I may not love every bit of who I am every minute of the day, but I know who and what I am. I know my body this way, and almost every day I love it. I love me. I don't care if I am like everyone else.

I do care if I'm healthy, and lately I've been trying harder to monitor what fuel I'm giving my body to ensure a long, active life. I don't resent people who are thin. I'm not a recluse who eats a tub of ice cream in a single sitting. Really, I'm not that much different from thinner people who have poor habits. My body simply doesn't process things the same way theirs do. Is it fair? Not really, but neither is life. It's also not fair that I don't study or work hard at school and still get A's when I know people who pour hours of their lives into mentally grueling study sessions only to barely pass.

I dislike all the politically-correct terms people use. "You're not fat, your healthy." "I'm sure you're not that overweight." Overweight. Does that mean my body has a prescribed weight? Is there someone out there who magically assigned a certain weight to every individual person? Is my magic weight 192.3 lbs? So if I drop to 175 are people going to become suddenly concerned about my being 20 lbs underweight? Chances are not so good. The people who love me get very defensive and prickly when I flatly tell them, "I am morbidly obese." In return I get, "You just carry it so well." and "But you still have such a pretty face." I'm sorry, since when did being fat affect my apparent facial beauty? Or since when was being pretty in the face a consolation prize? Is that one redeeming quality supposed to set the cosmos right and realign karmic balance in the universe?

Apparently.

I learned years ago that I could've been thin. I could've been born with thick, full hair. I could've been born with smaller feet. I could've been born with longer eyelashes. I could've been born shorter. I could've been born a faster runner. I could've been born nicer and not had to learn in a very painful way to not be cruel. But I wasn't. I was always fat. I have thin, fine hair. I have huge feet. I have stumpy eyelashes. I'm a certifiable giantess. I'm a freakishly slow runner. And I'm still working on not being cruel. So what does this all mean?

I am fat. I love me. And I have a pretty face to boot.

The FUN Has Arrived!

2010-07-05T22:40:00.000-07:00

Ok, so once again it has been about a million years since I posted. Lame. I know. I do this a lot. You should be used to it by now. Or I should be more reliable. I'll go with the former and absolve myself of all guilt. Ah, I feel much better now.

So basically I've been crazy-busy with school and work. I forgot how much work school was. That or when I was in school before I didn't care like I do now. Hmm...probably the latter in this case. At any rate, it pretty much consumed my life for the month of June. I still have a monsterous paper due on Friday (which, for all intensive purposes, I have yet to begin), but then I'm home-free until August 23. Then it's going to be doomsday. See, I thought I was busy with one normal class, two online classes, and two jobs now. Come August 23 I'll have four English classes (curious aside: they are all taught by women), one Spanish class, and still have two jobs. Suicidal much? No. Not yet anyway.

Yet in all reality life is good right now. Like really ridiculously good. Honestly, if there was one thing in my life I would want to be working for me right now that currently isn't it would be getting to the gym (no, I don't date currently, but I think I should start going to the gym again before I try that so I won't feel like the fat funny friend that guys want to hang out with and not just be friends with). But we're not paying attention to that! Because so many other things are good.

It's almost kind of scary-crazy to me how bad off I was just a few short months ago. There are literally four months of my life that I don't remember. No, I wasn't intoxicated. I was depressed. Then one day it was like I woke up and saw myself in the mirror for the first time in those four months and I didn't even recognize myself. It wasn't like I had moped around and slept all day. I had a job that I went to everyday, picked up two other jobs along the way, and got ready every day. I just did it all on autopilot.

I vaguely recall realizing I liked music again. It was as though I had shut all of "me" into a tight little box and my body just kept going until I decided to come out. Seeing myself in the mirror was part of that awakening. Listening to music was another. But I think the thing that kicked down the door and said, "I ain't gonna do this anymore!" was going back to school. I've really enjoyed most of the jobs I've had since I graduated from college, but none of them ever caused me to feel like I was "going somewhere" or "doing something" with my life. I just existed.

Now there is the increased incentive that what I'm doing will make a difference--for me and for the world (you know, the world being the people I interact with, which might by like, 50 people. Or according to Facebook at least 355). I get some of that now working at the residential treatment facility for recovering drug addicts. Being here has really changed my life for the better, and hopefully I've had some kind of positive effect on some of them, too. So yeah. That's about it.

Oh, and three days ago there was a marching band marching down my street. Yes, I am that cool. That's all.

Musings and Ramblings

2010-05-27T23:23:00.000-07:00

It's been ages. My excuse could be time. Or traveling to London to fulfill a life-long dream.

London was a dream come true. It was like living in a fantasy. Now all I want to do is go back, since I never wanted to leave in the first place. Everybody keeps asking about favorites. It's hard to pick since I just remember loving it all--except the part where I felt like a little kid again when I couldn't keep pace with my professor. That man speed walks, I swear. Well, if that's true, then so do all the Britons. People walk fast there. People walk with purpose. Leisurely strolls don't seem to exist, even in parks. That's where the "fitties" do their training.

I start back to school on Tuesday. I'm scared shitless. It's been three years. Is it possible to forget how to be in school? If so, I think I've done it. This week I've been writing essays for my study abroad classes. I swear it's taking me twice as long, and the writing isn't nearly as good. I can't imagine going back after a long break. It makes me appreciate people like my mom who went back with a family after 13 years of being out of classrooms, or my brother-in-law who is finally pursuing his dream of earning a bachelor's degree.

But with the beginning of my return to school comes the close of the regular school year. I will miss my beloved Kindergartners. Working with them has been life altering. I am amazed by them and the things of which they are capable. Yesterday I was at Walmart behind a mother with her two children, I'm guessing ages 2 and 3, a girl and boy, respectively. Of course their little minds are bombarded with the diabolical impulse items. As soon as the boy asked for a treat the girl went into full-out tantrum (as in laying underneath the shopping cart pounding the floor). I remember having a conversation with my sister about having kids throwing a tantrum in the store and passersby giving dirty sneers, or even worse saying, "Oh somebody must be having a bad day." Instead, I politely watched this stalwart mother stand her ground without making faces or sympathising with the children. She picked up the girl and seated her in the cart, and took the boy by hand. He looked back to see how interesting my purchases were. His cry was clearly false. And my only thought was, "Your mom must really love you because she said, 'No.'"

Working with recovering drug addicts I am convinced that the world could use a whole lot more "no." But not just the blatant no, but nurturing because-I-really-care, "no." Tonight I'm grateful for parents who not only supported me in all good things I wanted to do, but also told me no when I needed to hear it. A timely no leads to a world full of yes. I have a lot of yes right now because of their nos (even those I chose not to hear).

Be grateful if you had a mom who loved you enough to say no.

Tulips, Daffodils, and Miracles

2010-04-16T10:22:00.000-07:00

The last few days, weeks really, have been cause for lots of reflection, continual prayer, and much gratitude. The weather has been less than temperate with several inches of snow, and winds at gale force just this week, but today I caught an all-too-brief glimpse of something resoundingly Spring. In a little plot near the mailbox at the front of a simple home was a brilliantly blooming flower patch. Rising up in mellow beauty were fully opened daffodils, a delicious butter and lemon color. Just in front of them a clump of scarlet tulips open to the sun, as if spreading arms out wide to welcome and embrace it's warming rays. And in that truncated glimpse, lasting perhaps less-than half a second, joy seeped into my limbs, infused my person, and nestled comfortably in the heart of my soul.

In my mind has been repeating this quote from President Thomas S. Monson, shared some two autumns ago. "Mortality is a period of testing, a time to prove ourselves worthy to return to the presence of our Heavenly Father. In order to be tested, we must sometimes face challenges and difficulties. At times there appears to be no light at the tunnels end--no dawn to break the night's darkness...If you find yourself in such a situation, I plead with you to turn to our Heavenly Father in faith. He will lift you and guide you. He will not always take your afflictions from you, but He will comfort and lead you with love through whatever storm you face."

I was not fully aware until just yesterday of all that has been transpiring with my immediate and extended family. Within the last two weeks we have undergone a series of remarkable things.

Miracle One: My great-grandma of 92 fell from her bed and for four days complained of pain until she was taken to the doctor where they found she had broken her neck. They call it the "hangman's break" because it was the break that killed those hanged. Doctors were shocked at her survival, and perplexed in knowing how to treat her. She was too old and frail to survive surgery, and there was no way to simply live with the break, so the result has been putting her in a halo. She's doing fine.

My 17-year-old cousin has been suffering from an unknown ailment since January and went in for surgery this past week. Her situation has not much improved, and is ongoing.

Miracle Two through Seven-thousand two-hundred thirty-six: Then on Tuesday at 2:30 am my aunt (only a year older than my mother) fell out of bed in cardiac arrest. Her husband called 911, and began chest compressions until emergency personnel arrived. A friend of mine is an EMT and was on call that night. She responded on the second bus, and told me the next day, "That was scary." Hearing that from someone who has seen lots of things like this before is humbling. Later she informed me, "That's the only call I've been on where someone coded and actually came back and lived." Drs. informed my uncle yesterday that survival only happens for 10% of people with this condition who have a similar type of episode.

Information trickled in through long hours of silence in sporadic bursts that didn't give much greater insight. MAJOR coronary event. Responding to painful stimuli. Fighting the respirator. Sedated.

After a long night and life flight to a larger hospital 45 minutes away the diagnosis came back. Cardiomyopathy. Then more waiting. How long was she without oxygen? Will she have a memory? Will she come out of the sedation or slip into a coma? Images of Terri Schiavo flashed through my head. The next morning they decided to start weaning her out of sedation to see if she could breathe on her own. The first drip missed and she woke. She was able to speak and told her husband she loved him. Her memory comes and goes, but overall she's improving. Today they will implant an internal difibrilator, and she may be home as soon as Monday.

Miracle Seven-thousand two-hundred thirty-seven: Wednesday my 16-year-old cousin (brother to he 17-year-old) was driving to a scout event west of town in an area called Three Peaks. He was alone in a truck hauling equipment, following another truckload of boys. While driving he had the impression he was going to slide. Nobody is sure if he hit the brake, the gas, or over-corrected, but the truck rolled several times down an embankment until it landed upright. He was without a scratch, and the truck was still running. He could see the top of the embankment and thought if he gunned it he could make it back up. He gave it the gas, but miraculously the truck stalled part-way up. It's a miracle because it was not the embankment he thought it was to get to the road. Disoriented by the roll of the truck he was heading straight for a drop off into an old mine. His Bishop came over and said, "You must be the most righteous boy in the ward." Police officers couldn't believe he survived the roll. The truck is totaled. He is a little sore, but otherwise unharmed.

Bless the soul of my grandmother. I've always thought she was special in a saintly kind of way. At eight months pregnant she dealt with the shocking death of her 36-year-old husband, and managed to take her four children to another town and start a new life. I cannot imagine what it must've been like for her to see her daughter in a hospital bed in a situation so closely paralleled to that of her husband. And yet she does not despair. She does not decry her lot and say, "Woe is me. God has forsaken this family." Instead, these are her words, "Aren't we blessed that they only happen one at a time! And everything keeps turning out good." I overheard my mother say, "At night when you pray it seems that all you can say is 'thank you' because of everything that has happened, and you almost feel like you can't ask for anything else because we have been so blessed."

In the midst of all these other dangerous, potentially life-threatening things comes perhaps the sweetest miracle of all. My dear, beautiful friend gave birth to her first child. Paul Edward. He is perfect. Nice chubby cheeks, lots of thick, dark hair, and healthy. 9 lbs 15 oz, 21 1/2 inches long.

At the end of every bitter Winter is a glorious Spring. And even when the late storms encroach on the budding season there are those early bright spots of lemon and scarlet that bring hope. Winter cannot last forever. Winter will not last forever. Spring. Spring will come, and it will be perfect.

Advice: Part II

2010-03-29T08:35:00.000-07:00

Some new gems!

"Move your feet."

"Go get em!"

"The score doesn't tell the whole story."

And my new personal favorite...

"Push through the pain."

Dental Floss and Willing Against Nature

2010-03-27T05:03:00.000-07:00

It's 5:32 am. I'm working a graveyard shift listening to the irregular snoring rhythms of those over whom I watch and am trying not to be jealous of their slumber. And, after having spent the last hour reading Kelle Hampton's blog I am feeling all kinds of inspired and inspirational...or at least satirical.

With that, I begin.

I've never really cared for our dogs, Roxy and Winston. They bark a lot. They've never properly house-trained. And they like to get into the garbage.

Roxy has the peculiar trait of pilfering my used dental floss. Not quite sure why, but that is her thing.

The other morning while getting ready I noticed a few strewn-about pieces of tissue and knew the pests had been running amok. I gathered the scattered rubbish, redisposed of it, and continued my morning routine.

Quickly I dressed for school, pulling my nylon knee-highs so I would not be bare-footed in my dress shoes. The day progressed with no real abnormalities. Then, as I was sitting in a staff meeting I crossed my right foot over my left knee, exposing part of my ankle and lower calf. I did a rapid assessment of what I had narrowly caught in my peripheral vision. What was that curious white line in the middle of my leg?

Dental floss. As soon as I recognised the culprit my powers of deduction when whirling into reasoning explanations of how the offending hitchhiker came to be located in such a place. The only thing I could figure was that I had stepped on it while getting ready and had worn it all day.

Perhaps the most curious thing of all was that it had been stowed quietly away for eight hours already, but once the unwelcomed tagalong was found out it became the bane of my existance. I developed a sudden and completely nonsensical itch in that very spot simply because the floss was there.

Cursed dog. Leave the dental floss where it belongs!

Also, another quirk in my albeit very random personality. I do this thing where I try to will nature into changing on my timetable. For instance, I am not a hater of winter. I rather like snow and what most term "bad" weather. Yet, lately, with the push of daffodils, the swelling of buds on trees, and general greening up of things in this rather greenless place, I've begun to look forward to spring.

But not a stormy tempestuous spring. A nice, delicate, gentle spring with gradually warming temperatures, the return of birds' songs, and just the faintest tinge of sharpness in the night's air. So, in order to state my direct opposition to a continued streak of cacaphonous weather I hung all of my heavy winter coats in the very far depths of my closet, signaling the end of my need of their heavy liners, hoods, and general protection.

For a day it all went rather smoothly. Then yesterday I awoke to three inches of snow, and tonight as I stepped out of a friend's house I was met with sideways hail and sleet. Well I don't care what you say, Mother Nature, I'm not pulling those heavy coats out, and you can't make me!

Advice

2010-03-16T14:11:00.000-07:00

I think most people in this world, myself included, seek advice. Sometimes we find it in unexpected or even strange places.

I distinctly recall while serving as a missionary for my church being extremely distraught about something, and just praying in my heart to God, asking Him how I was supposed to continue. While driving down one of the narrow highways I saw the marquee of a smoke shop. The only word glaring from the middle of the sign with the flashing arrow was "BELIEVE," and in that moment, my soul was calmed.

However, there are some places where I do not think advice or words of encouragement are very appropriate. Allow me to share one such recent experience.

A while ago I received a sample pack of Playtex Sport tampons. They seemed to have a better feel, so I purchased a box the next time I needed some. One day, while doing my business during that specific time when such accouterments are requisite I noticed writing on the wrapper of the tampon. Being a curious person I picked it up and read, "Do your best!" I could not help but laugh. Some wrappers contained two sayings (don't worry, I didn't ruin the surprise and read them all in a single sitting, I allowed myself to receive these little nuggets one at a time). I was fortunate enough to have bestowed upon me, "Make your best good enough!" "Push harder next time!"

Really? Truly? Were these things printed on my tampon label? Now, in a different context these could be motivating--say in a sporting situation. As it was, my mind first jumped to the task at hand, applied the saying, and laughed so hard a little bit of pee came out.

So the next time you feel like you could use more encouragement and positive motivation in your life, just grab a box of Playtex Sport and let the building up begin.

Random Happenings

2010-03-16T13:58:00.000-07:00

To explain my prolonged absence I could claim busyness. Afterall, in the last three weeks my parents put their house up for sale (some of you may wonder why that affects me, let it be known I am a slovenly leech who still resides in their basement, therefore, my house is up for sale as well), I found out I'M GOING TO LONDON!!! (only 15 days, but it's better than nothing, right?), and I started a third part-time job (love what I do, even though it's intense--I'm working in a residential treatment center for substance abuse).

However, I've learned from treatment language that this would be simple denial, and I need to own that I've just been putting off getting on here. I'm in a much better place now than I have been for a while, and it feels really good. The jobs are all good, and I'm enjoying keeping busy (no, I don't feel like there is extra money because it's all been usurped by the fulfillment of a life-long dream--LONDON!).

I'm not quite sure what the future will bring, but that's ok. Life's meant to be lived one day at a time. I'll do my best to plan, and figure out the rest as it happens.

As for something humorous--or perhaps disturbing--I was working in a Kindergarten classroom today with children who were writing about what a Leprechaun would do if the child found one. A little boy wrote, "he trikd me 38 tims." As I was mounting their writings on construction paper for display a boy sitting to my right began a monologue rather reminiscent of the one Syndrome in "The Incredibles" begins on--about ruling the world. It was also rather Pinky and the Brain-esque. So I asked him,

"Jim [name has been changed] how do you plan to rule the world?"

"I'm going to destroy someone?"

"Destroy someone?"

"Yes, destroy someone."

"Destroying is not good, people won't like you if you destroy someone."

"I only have to destroy one person, and he lives in space."

"Oh? Who lives in space, Jim?"

"God."

"You're going to destroy God?"

"Yes. I'm going to destroy God and then I'll rule the world."

I am a firm believer that every person is born with the Light of Christ and has intrinsic abilities to sense good from bad, right from wrong, and all that, but there is something seriously amiss with this child. It doesn't help that he has pale, pale skin, and flaming red hair (if I wanted to exaggerate I would also claim that he had yellow eyes, like the bully from "The Christmas Story.").

Mouthbreather's Anonymous

2010-02-09T14:20:00.000-08:00

Bless the soul of my Father, he is not a bad man by any means. He does, however, possess the uncanny knack of describing people using their least attractive qualities. Even when he attempts to describe people in a flattering way it comes across as an insult.

One of his rather ingenious verbal inventions is referring to "stupid-looking" people as "mouthbreathers." The term is rather self-explanatory. For a simple visual cue sort back only so far as John Heder's unforgettable performance as Napoleon Dynamite. Nappy-D (as Jared Hess, creator of "Napoleon Dynamite" refers to the main character) is a notorious mouthbreather.

Of late I have been afflicted with a rather severe headcold, which renders me incapable of inhaling or exhaling through my nasal passages. Thus I am left to breathe through the only remaining respiratory orifice--my mouth. Is it fair to claim that I feel less intelligent for having to respire through my mouth? Be it ridiculous it is, nevertheless, true. I cannot help but to feel more sluggish in thought, as though my synapses are layered in unforgiving mucus that deteriorates cognitive thought.

I join the intellectually indigent throng. A mouthbreather I am.

An Open Letter to the Hateful Secretary on the Third Floor

2010-02-04T14:24:00.000-08:00

Dear Hateful Woman,

Following our less-than-pleasant exchange yesterday I chose to vent my feelings of frustration and hurt in an open letter that you will likely never read, but others will laugh in mockery of your lack of character as I expose your faults herein, and, pathetic creature that I am, this will make me feel better. So much so, in fact, that I will not seek retribution in the form of an official complaint filed against you.

I realise you were enjoying the high that comes from the slightly over-full feeling of lunch when you found me in your office waiting. I also realise you were not anticipating finding me there. The surprise is forgivable. The accusatory, impatient tone in which you asked if you were the one I was waiting for is not. Yes, Administrative Assistant. I traipsed from beyond the opposite end of campus, caught in a moving crowd, forced to listen to a hardly adolescent girl painfully vie for the attention of two equally immature boys, up to the third floor of your building just to meet with you. Perhaps it is a lack of understanding, but do people often make appointments with you? I didn't think so.

Startled by your insipid reception I stated my intentions to meet with the administrator whom you are to assist. Again, rather than offer a reasonable or kind explanation the haughty, "He's not here. He's gone to meetings for the rest of the afternoon." Was all I received. I'm sorry, did my presence offend you? Had I done something to warrant such penurious treatment? Perhaps I am bias, but to the best of my knowledge I had done nothing either socially or communicatively errant. I had come to an office where I was told I could meet with an administrator. I came during a time I was told he would be available. I came prepared with information so that the meeting could be productive. And yes, I had showered that very morning.

From what egregious flaw did I illicit your callousness? The best I can figure is you are a hateful person, bless your heart. If I may be so bold, I dare offer some advice. Your official title, I believe, is that of "Administrative Assistant." I have searched many job listings for that very position. They are filled with descriptors such as, "pleasant", "welcoming", "helpful", "positive." None, dear woman, are applicable to you. Not to mention the root for the latter part of your title, "assist." To be plain, pack up your surly attitude and start doing your damn job. Otherwise, heaven help you if you ever seek alternate employment. With the affability you offer a corrections facility wouldn't begin to contemplate your employ.

Very Sincerely and Whole-Heartedly,
Me

The Bachelor Degree Part II

2010-01-31T00:45:00.000-08:00

The day most people graduate with their degree from college is a happy day. They've survived. Time to enter the workforce. Time to quit being an economical suck and start getting their's.

The day I graduated was not a very good one. I remember it well. A darker spot in my not-so-recent-past. But never did I ever think I'd be going back. To school, yes. I've always been interested in graduate work. But for a second bachelor's degree? No way, no how.

Alas, here I am. Reapplied to SUU for a Bachelor of Arts in English: Teaching Emphasis. What I really wonder is if I'll be as good of a student as I was the first time around. I wasn't amazing by any means, but I fear I'll come off as jaded from having done this before. Humility. It's the new staple of my diet.

Beautiful Disaster

2010-01-25T13:49:00.000-08:00

My life feels like finely orchestrated chaos. Making decisions is like throwing a dart into a tornado, my surroundings are as calm as an tempest, and to top it all off the place where I can feel solace, peace, and where I belong has become a no man's land.

A leader of mine (shall we dub her USS Dramaticus?) has, of late, accused me of trying to sabotage her social life (you can just call me the Flub-marine). It was a long sordid affair that I do not care to repeat, but in no uncertain terms while the USS Dramaticus was feigning peace talks with a little white-flag waving dingy on the starboard she was really just setting depth charges from the port side. Meaning, while she made the preemptive strike to explain she was not having any communication with a known, unstable foreign despot she was knowingly sending coded messages to the same individual.

Needless to say, trying to stay seaworthy in the wake of USS Dramaticus is challenging at best. The true kicker of treason was the communique I received today praising my virtues of intellect and beauty. My thoughts? Don't try to blow smoke up my torpedo launchers, my periscope works just fine.

My war game tactic? DIVE! DIVE! DIVE! and just float under the radar until USS Dramaticus is assigned a new post.