The Blasphemous Hyperbole

I f-cking HATE Tow Truck companies. And Booters. And...the church?

Saturday morning, while I was unsuspectingly parking my car in a nearby LDS church lot, I remember thinking "I wish my shoot was in this building, then I wouldn't have to walk three blocks from here --the safest parking in the vicinity--to get to my shoot." Little did I know, that at that very moment I was being diabolically betrayed by my own religion, through the spawns of Satan themselves that were contracted by the church itself. Yes, I was about to be preyed upon by the most malicious evil that prowls or has ever prowled the streets of Provo, Utah: the Tow Truck people. Approximately forty minutes later, I came back to find my beloved 1993 Mazda Protoge...gone.

For a moment, I thought that it had been stolen. But then, upon further thinking I realized that no one in their right mind would steal my POS Mazda with the randomly placed bumper stickers that have long ago faded into unintelligibility and the numerous scratches from unclaimed parking lot travesties. Then who...? It was at that moment I realized that I had to be dealing with people who WEREN'T in their right minds. People who would steal a $350 car and attempt to hold it for a $150 ransom. People without souls. Tow Truck people.

Yes, indeed, my friends. My car was in fact stolen blatantly and (apparently, as I found from grueling hours of research and several elevated conversations) legally from a religious sanctuary. Or, at least I had thought of it that way. But don't be fooled. Here in Provo Utah, even the churches have fallen victim to the honeyed words and promises of vast fortune that these scavengars peddle to every lot in the community. Sad...tragic...faith shaking as it seems.

Just like Quasimodo, I found out the hard way that sometimes, no one can protect you. While swinging from the bell and crying, "Sanctuary...SANC-tu-A-RYYYY!!!" the priest himself walks up and cuts it loose. That's just the breaks, kid. That'll teach you not to mess with the REAL PTB (Powers That Be) in this town. That's right. It's not, as we previously assumed, the Mormon church. It is the friggin Towtruck Mafia.

The best part was when I told the guy on the phone that I couldn't believe I wasn't safe parking in my own church, even on a Saturday afternoon when the parking lot is empty and who does that bother, for friggin crying out loud!? And he goes, "Well ma'am, that building is just as much a business to us as any other building that we contract with in the community. And we enforce it just as strictly." What the HELL are you talking about, Towtruck Villain!? A church is NOT a business! Or, at least I didn't think mine was one. It's more like a non-profit, or a charity. In fact, I'm pretty sure it qualifies for tax exemption under code 1099. Suck on that! says I. Instead, the TTC Sumbich refused to even negotiate, stating his right to completely extort me out of half the price of my car. Just to test his soullessness, I offered to apostatize myself from the church completely based on this incident, as this particular church was clearly in league with the Devil. Instead of apologising, he just laughed and said "Whatever". I swear, sometimes I wonder why God doesn't just smite them all.

I'm probably going to get struck by lightening...or at least go to Hell for this. But it felt a little good to get it out.

You-fumisms.

You know, lately I've been giving a lot of thought to the way people in certain pockets of society view different things, and I've come to a few conclusions that I really don't want to recognize. The most recent of theses is that my life here in Provo has become one big euphemism. In case you're unfamiliar with the word, a euphemism is something that takes a blatantly true fact (usually one that would be considered socially unacceptable if uttered honestly and aloud) and tweaks it, just a scoche, so that it is ameliorated into something that is cuter, fuzzier, and less extreme. Usually, something that makes people feel more comfortable.

Who made this rule up? It's like someone said, let's take the thing that is the most upsetting in the room, complicate and ameliorate it, and then use an acronym to describe it! That'll change the world and make it a better place. Some of the most fun times we use these types of alterations are in the job industry, where sometimes just saying what you really do all day isn't going to socially cut it.

Here are a few examples: (How YOU TOO can change your undesirable into a comfy!)
I work at a gas station = I am a Professional Petroleum Technician. (PPT)
I am a Ho = I work as a male entertainment customer service provider.
a Pimp = Marketing and Technical Support for Male Entertainment Customer Service Provider
Poop shoveler = Excess Product Reduction Technician
Stripper = Reverse Apparel Auctioneer (RAA)
Drug dealer = Pharmaceutical Representative (PR)
Britney Spears = Working Class Teenager Role model, Fashion Icon
Telemarketer = Dinner Interruption Specialist (DIS)
Doctor = Placebo Recommendation Spec and Hypochondriac Enabling Services, MD - Nuff said.
Janitor = Restroom Sanitation and Excess Bodily Fluid Removal Technician
Nose Picker = Interior Nasal Excavation Person (INEP)
Butt Wiper = Posterior Fecal Sanitation Worker (PFSW)
Garbage Man = Recycling and Non-environmental Refuse Supervisor

You see? Euphemisms can be quite fun! And if we're using them for the sake of Humor, they can be even MORE fun backwards! (Euphemism = Basically, the real thing)

Server = If you walk into this restaurant, I am your bitch.
Meat server = I sell beef on a stick
College Student = I have no money, no skills, and refuse to study, but please commit to hire me in four years pending receipt of piece of paper called "Degree"
Reporter = Public Tattletale
Director = Professional Yeller and Crusher of Self-esteem
Extra = Self-esteem Inflation Model
Assistant Director = Self-esteem Repair Technician
Manager = I've worked here a really long time; Competency not necessarily included
Sales Associate = If you walk into this store, I am your bitch.
Girlfriend = Socially obligated to be seen with you in public, and kiss you pretty much whenever you feel like
Boyfriend = Socially obligated to do nothing
RM = I don't have a job, know what my major is, or have a clue. But I can speak Italian!
R(Sis)M = I have a six figure salary job, can speak another language, bake, disarm nuclear bombs, grow my own vegetables, and I hate you. And myself.
Bartender = I can make drinks. And sleep with lots of people. I'll sleep with YOU. And make you drinks.
Pilot = I can fly a plane. Sleep with me.
Doctor = I heal sick people. And I have a wife. Sleep with me.
Security Sales = I make $30,000 a month by exploiting the gullibility of peoples in US protectorate countries. Don't you want to sleep with me?
Denny's Server = I work here to support my drug habit. Go ahead, stiff me I don't care.
Producer = I do pretty much all the same stuff as a secretary, only I don't get paid as much.
Law Student = In fifteen years, I will have paid off my student loans, and will then be making more money than God. In the meantime, I'm just gonna talk about it.
DL, AP, EQP = I've never even kissed a girl. And that makes me holier than YOU are.
RSPres = I've never even kissed a guy. And that's because I'm too holy to even think about it.

Okay, so some of these are a tad hyperbolic, and freaking sacreligious, but I'm giggling. Why aren't you?

Portugese, Pork, and Making Television

I'm moving on.

No more volcanoes, tears, knickers or guilt. No more ambiguous text messages and trips to Salt Lake where I'm not sure what I am, or who I am with. No more feelings of insecurity brought on by thinking I am not worthy of something I don't even know if I want, or know what I would do with if I had it. No more wondering, and no more overthinking things.

Today, I am starting anew. I am putting behind me all of those things that make me doubt myself. All of those things that have been making me lose sleep or lose focus. I'm throwing myself into a new occupation, and not because I am trying to get something else out of my head, but because I want something new in it. A whole lot of somethings.

I've realized a few things about myself and my head over the last couple of weeks, and one of the most important of these realizations is about housekeeping. It's all very well and good to say you're going to start fresh and start doing everything a different way, but more often we find ourselves instead looking for excuses to explain why we ended up doing the same things all over again. "It's not my fault." "I can't help it. Obviously something else needs to change before I can start over." But really, it's just because in your mind, and in your life you just haven't cleared a space yet. First you have to pull the weeds before you can plant flowers. Or, you have to pull the flowers that aren't growing to make way for other flowers that will. In any case, change comes after you jump into the unknown, with a plan of course.

For me, that plan is going to include another new job. A new house. And probably, hopefully, a new social life with people who will love me for who I am and realize that even though I'm one of the busiest people they know, I still want them to call me. I still want love and I still want to be cuddled, even though I might not seem to stand in one place long enough to do so. It's time to make a change in the places I look, rather than looking for new things to come out of the same people and places I've known.

And so I'm moving on, leaving those behind me who won't or can't follow, to find what it is I'm looking for. It's time.

The Volcano.

It's building up, I almost can't keep it in anymore. Some days, it gets so strong I actually have to leave the room before any of it escapes. It's like I spend all my time either denying it or wrestling with myself to hold it in, to keep it from spilling out and making a mess of everything. Because it IS a messy thing. The truth, that is.

Why do I sit there every day and look across the table at you and pretend everything is the same? Why do I joke and dance all over the things I really want to say? Why am I so confused and why does my stomache hurt so much and why, oh why, can't I be stronger? Why do I ruin every moment with frightened babble, whenever we get so close to saying something that would change everything? Why is it so hard to jump, when we know it can't really hurt more than a few seconds. Or a few years.

Maybe it can just last forever this way, but then the truth whispers from the dark corner where you've shoved it and covered it up with laudry...no it can't. Things are bound to change. You can't be happy with the way things are... and then you're not again. Everything is perfect the way it is, but then why does the fire explode in your chest when you see them together? Is it because you wish it was you and someone else? Or do you wish it was you instead of her? The flames simmer below the surface, but it's just so much easier to temporarily blot it out than face it. The problem there is it always comes back, until you deal with it.

But what if you let it go, and it rages out of control and people flee for their lives? Or what if you stay hidden and years later steam rises... but it's too late. The fire is gone. The fuel is spent somewhere else and you find that all you have is stone. What do you do then, when there are no more feelings to make sense of, to agonize over, to confuse yourself with in a flurry of smoke? You sit on the pile of stones and logic.

Please Don't Make Me Cry

I need a friend. This thought has struck me like the cattle part on the front of a train that I ignored right up until the point of impact, even though it was looming in my periphral vision for quite some time. I guess I didn't want to believe that my best friend (let's face it, my only friend come to that these days, or at least the only one who's still in my zip code) would walk away from me over something as simple as a bad night. Or nights. But I guess I should have stepped out of the way BEFORE the train hit me.

You see, when I love someone I choose to love them. There's none of this idiocy of "falling" in love, or "accidently in love" ala Counting Crows. I see, I think, I deliberate and then I feel. You might see it as sad, but I've learned to guard my emotional triggers from just anyone, and for very good reason. Then again, maybe there is no reason good enough. Even when it's just a friend, I choose to care but most dangerous is when I start to believe in them, to rely on them. It's then that it hurts to lose them. It hurt to see my best friend shunned out of Utah for her beliefs. It hurt to leave Racherella to move by myself and live alone. It hurt more than anything when the person I loved decided to take back our future together, and give it to someone else instead. But most of all, it hurts that I have chosen to allow it.

And so again, I find myself unconsciously, but somehow deliberately giving someone else the power to hurt me, the ability to make me cry. In one moment, everything I have built crashes to the ground like a pile of broken plastic; not quite as strong as I had thought. And suddenly I am no longer a strong and confident version of myself, but someone who feels ...not enough. If this is how caring feels, please make it stop. I don't want to care that much for someone else's opinion of me, I don't want to give a person the power to break me. From the inside.

If I hide my trigger, then no one can accidently set it off, and then no one can ever hurt me.
This way, you'll never make me cry.

Knickers and Guilt

Underwear is not a crime. Underwear is NOT a crime.

This is the mantra that I have recently begun repeating to myself, ever since I started working (fourth job) at a popular women's undergarment boutique. I think you know the one I mean. Anyway, two days later (or was it one?) I decided I was going to break the news to the one person that I somehow KNEW was going to make the biggest hubbub about this, thing. No, not my bishop. My Mother. (With a capital M, because in the world of my Mom, NOTHING is ever downplayed) Anyway, so the Mom was the first to go, I figured I might as well say something because she was probably going to figure it out eventually anyway and wouldn't it just be best if I casually mentioned it first, like it's no big deal, etc...

In short, ...it no worky. I mean, she pretended that it was only a mild shock until she hung up the phone, had about 15 hours to think it over, and THEN all of the sudden I was rudely awakened at 8am to a self-righteous (and child righteous) diatribe on the choices I make that are going to absent me from integrity, righteousness, the gospel, and basically heaven. (Okay, I went a little far on that one, but you get the basic idea.) Words like "provocative" and "disrespectful" were thrown around quite liberally, as well as much blame content. In short, I think I might be in danger of disownment by association to unspeakables. It really is quite bizarre.

Which brings me unto the actual subject of this rant. (We'll call it a rant for the sake of drama, when it's really a quite hilarious social commentary) Digression... Anyway, the subject this brings me to is why this event struck me as bizarre:

In a world where things are constantly changing, where every ten years things that are "cool", "normal", "right", and acceptable completely change--why the hell do we have such a hard time looking at things with an open mind? Thirty years ago, yes, it might have been considered quasi-pornography to show a woman on the cover of a magazine wearing only her bra and underwear. (Actually, no that was more like 50...80 years ago?) But at that point, it was also okay to say hell, damn, ass, and possibly shite in a rated PG movie. It was also "cool" and acceptable for women to wear shoulder pads the size of a Honda and get knocked up when they were 16, provided that they did it after scoring the hottest Senior guy in school. (For references: see Pretty in Pink, Sixteen Candles, Breakfast Club, Labrynth, Ninja Turtles, and the Goonies, etc) hehehe he. But my point is this: We couldn't even make up our minds THEN about what was skanky/scandalous/conservative, etc Let ALONE fashionable/cool/manly/classy/good music

In some aboriginal cultures, women walk around topless. Top. Less. Would some people's mothers be completely offended and refuse to allow them to do foreign service or humanitarian work in said countries? Mine wouldn't. But PARADOX of paradoxes, it's not okay to even admit to shopping in a place where they sell (gasp!) lace? I really don't get it. Especially because I happen to KNOW that she's not the only one who feels this way. It's disgruntling how many women/men/young adults in America (and let's face it more commonly Utah) who judge something they know almost nothing about for reasons they can't even really explain.

Homosexual tendencies. "Well, I don't know anyone who's like that, and I can't tell you why it happens, but dangit that's just WRONG." Well geez, I really feel like you're the smarter party of this discussion, and I'm going to choose to believe your side.
Politics. "If Hilary Clinton gets elected, I'm leaving the country." Okay, I'd understand if you felt like that and you had researched her political platform, or hell, even if you knew ANYTHING about her politics. But just because you hate her and forget why? You know what, I really won't miss you when you move. Good luck in Mexico by the way, moron.
Office Gossip. "That girl is such a b*tch, and I totally hate her. I heard she totally stole so-n-so's boyfriend at the last Christmas party." Alright, well that's uncalled for. First of all, hate is a very strong word, it wasn't your boyfriend, in fact you don't even like so-n-so, so WHY do you even CARE in the first place? And PS-have you even verified that information? I think not.

The point I'm trying to make here is that judging based on unexplained and unproven principles is W-R-O-N-G. And I'm not just standing up for a job that I believe in because I really feel that I am the only one who is right. In fact, I might just be staying at this stupid job because I have something to prove. BUT, in a way, for me it has something to do with keeping an open mind, and living that way so that when I encounter close-mindedness and false-relativity, I can be immune. I can say "no, I think I'm gonna figure that one out myself, thanks."

And if undies are wrong, then I don't wanna be right.

(Besides, I'm pretty sure that NO underwear is way more wrong than the alternative, in the very first place. But it's cool if you disagree with me, I guess.)

Today's Thoughts on Love...

***My problem? I think too much. "His" problem? Seems to be, not thinking enough. So here we are. I've arrived at a conclusion, which is as yet untried but I truly believe that with a little thoughtful experimentation on my part and the parts of others, this rule WILL stick.

True love doesn't just happen one day out of friendship. At least not to me. Any relationship I have ever had that even came CLOSE to love has started out of pure lust. Simply put, the physical attraction was there and nothing more. Eventually, it builds until you just can't help but come together, and it is AFTER that point where you get to see if there is anything else there. A few months go by, making out becomes only 95% of a relationship instead of the whole thing, and somehow you actually start getting to know each other instead of just getting down. (In the most chaste sense, obviously) When you do, you find out bit by bit whether that person is someone you could spend your whole life with, or if it really was just a fling. (In which case, you quickly move on to the next, no broken hearts necessary) That is how love (in EVERY SINGLE Disney movie, Shakespearean Comedy, and most romantic comedies) works.

The other school (ie the Old School) says that relationships begin slowly, trust develops, mutual affection happens one day and then you get married and live a life of quiet mutuality for the rest of ever. The only problem with that one, in my mind, is what happens when you're 3/4 of the way down the road to twin souls and you realize, "Ew. I really can't see myself sleeping with this person every night for the rest of my life. Do we really have to do that, or can we just skip to the growing old together part?" Therein, my friends, lies MY problem. You see, I'm not one of those girls who goes through life thinking lah dee dah, one day soon I shall be married and then I can begin my lovely wonderful life. No, unfortunately for my demographic minority, marriage is more like an end clause in a contract, something that you HAVE to do if you want all of the rest of those things that makes you complete. For me, I always pictured getting married as a side effect to falling in love. Someone will seriously have to hit me over the head with a shovel and drag me away Caveman style, I promised myself. Of course, I'm speaking figuratively here. It's not like I'm saying that the only way I'll be stupid enough to walk down the aisle is if I have severe brain trauma. And yet... perhaps.

Or, I could be stupidly in love. Which has yet to happen. And honestly, I really think it's going to take a strong dose of Ruhypnol or for me to be totally not paying attention. And even then, you'll need a freaking huge shovel. Either way, I've realized something. I don't think I'm one of those people who can get on the Friend Train and halfway there realize you're accidentaly heading to Marriageville. No, for me I think it's going to end up being one of those "NCMO...who knew we would both accidently fall for eachother!" trips.

And isn't that just so picturesqe. Happily Ever Freaking After.

***Disclaimer: I'm actually really pissed off as I write this. Not like you couldn't tell, but I sometimes have these manhater moments; a few scattered specs of anger and occasional thoughts of gendercide thrown into an otherwise uniform and pleasant fabric. Like Tweed.
So please don't judge me based on the fact that right now all I really want to do is make war on an entire generation of factory fault miscreants that we in this day and age call "Men". Idiots.

When Do You Know?

So, recently (actually since about last Sunday) I've been facing a precipice that I'm really not sure if I want to go over. I have this friend, and we've been really close for what seems like forever. Really it's been a little less than a year, but you know how you meet those people and all of the sudden it's like they're just another part of your life, and it goes without saying? But lately, I've started to see this person in a new light, in a way that I never had before. Maybe I wasn't looking correctly, or there was a blind spot there. I'm not sure. All I know is that now I'm anxious, edgy, and confused a lot of the time, ironically when I'm NOT with this person. Is it suggestive of deeper feelings that I have yet to face? I'm not sure. Am I in denial, or just bored and reading more into everyday normalities than I should? The problem is I just don't trust myself enough to make a decision and go with it, because I've been burned in the past.

So here is my question: In crucial matters of life (and especially matters of the heart), is it okay to simply wait it out and see? Should I ask myself where this is going, and then sit around and do literally nothing about it until someone makes me decide? In my experience, I usually have to be actively pursuing some kind of conclusion before the answer is made clear, but in this case I'm not sure if that will help. I can try to keep it simple, yes, but short of extracting this someone from my daily life, I can't escape the feeling that there is something that needs to be said. Or done. But should I be the one to do it? Can I really trust my fate or the fate of a relationship to circumstance? Or, in my mind worse yet, can I trust my own magnetism enough to continue on normally and expect him to be the one to bring this up? Will it simply go away if I let it? I can't decide, I can't speak up, and I can't be honest with myself unless I have some kind of evidence!

Is it possible to know whether or not you love someone without dating them at all? I've heard people say that "we were best friends, and then we became more" but I'm pretty sure it wasn't overnight and there had to be a middle ground, right? So when, WHEN do you decide that it's worth the risk to throw yourself onto that middle ground and see what happens: either it's true, and you kiss and realize you were meant to be together forever, or it's not and you end up awkwardly stepping back onto firm ground and apologising...or parting ways forever because you can't ever go back. WHEN is it too late to try? Is it before or after you realize that you'll be friends forever? Is it after you've seen them be sick and nasty looking in the morning, or heard their deepest secret? Is that when it really does become too late for love to grow? Many prolific speakers have shared the thought that it's never too late, but I'm not so sure. Just ask yourself if you could have romantic feelings for a roomate, who you've actually seen pick their nose. Or a friend of your sibling who you have it on good authority that they play Nintendo six hours a day? The choice is still yours, but I have to wonder if there is a point where that choice is gone, and it is impossible to turn back. True love might not have an expiration date, but I think the onset of love definitely has a window. So is it true, or false?

And When do you Know?

Spring Fever

One of my favorite jazz songs of all time (as sung by Sarah Vaughn) perfectly describes my mood this week: I'm as restless as a willow in a wind storm, I'm as jumpy as a puppet on a string, I'd say that I had Spring Fever; but I know it isn't Spring. I am starry eyed and vaguely discontented, like a nightengale without a song to sing. Oh, why should I have Spring Fever, when it isn't even Spring?
It is most unfair when other people take my feelings from me and put them to music. Even...before I was born. Yeah. I know. So okay, it's not an original idea. However, I do feel that poetry and lyrics are some of the perfectest (I love making up words!) forms of expression for those otherwise unexplainable emotions or humours that would go unexplained without the help of people like George and Ira Gershwin, or Alfred Tennyson, or Emily Dickinson. And so, in the absence of further logical explanation, I'm just going to conclude my thoughts with a few of my favorites.

It's not the pale moon that delights me, that thrills and delights me,
Oh no. It's just the nearness of you.
It isn't your sweet conversation that brings this sensation,
Oh no, it's just the nearness of you.
-Hoagland Carmichael

However, my heart and head rule my emotions jointly,
And they are not to be trifled with,
So I suggest my friend that you tread lightly,
Because fury of woman scorned is not a myth.

'O miracle of women,' said the book,
O noble heart who, being strait-besieged
By this wild king to force her to his wish,
Nor bent, nor broke, nor shunned a soldier's death,
But now when all was lost or seemed as lost--
Her stature more than mortal in the burst
Of sunrise, her arm lifted, eyes on fire--
Brake with a blast of trumpets from the gate,
And, falling on them like a thunderbolt,
She trampled some beneath her horses' heels,
And some were whelmed with missiles of the wall,
And some were pushed with lances from the rock,
And part were drowned within the whirling brook:
O miracle of noble womanhood!'
-Lord Tennyson's the Princess
(This is what I do to men who mess with me)

But someday, one will come who will brave the thorns and thunder,
Taking only that which is most prized; my heart.
Unlike others, mistaking beauty wealth and conquest for true plunder,
He, being worthy, will receive the better part.

Don't ever try to change me,
I've broken hearts for less
And please don't rearrange me,
I'm the me that I like best
I'll alter if you want me to,
Those things that don't define me
All you really need to do
My love, is ask me kindly.
(Or, as Emily would say...)

ALTER? When the hills do.
Falter? When the sun
Question if his glory
Be the perfect one.
Surfeit? When the daffodil
Doth of the dew:
Even as herself, O friend!
I will of you!
-Emily Dickinson

What's So Funny

You know what's funny? Everything.

It's funny how you think you know your best friends, and then in one day they can completely shock and awe you. How you can fight with your Mom and then realize five minutes later that you'd die without her. How jelly beans never seem to make you full. How the second you start to feel sorry for yourself, a friend calls you. How dancing can cure even the most severe illnesses. How laughter can actually be narcotic. How one day can change your entire life, and journal entries from just a year ago seem so completely stupid. How journal entries from a month ago can actually teach you something new.

It's funny that no matter how many times you see babies, they're always cute. And sometimes the person you thought was grumpy and mean turns out to be hilarious. It's funny how you can laugh at someone for being dumb, and then ten minutes later you do the same thing. It's funny how you can love someone and not even realize it until you hate them. How legos are always diverting, even when you're way too old. How you can discover money in your pockets that you're almost positive you didn't put there. How the stupidest movies can make you happy. How the smartest people can do something idiotic. It's funny how drivers license pictures never actually look like the person in them. How first impressions are almost always totally wrong. How turning over a new leaf is harder than turning over a car's engine (ha ha). It's funny how a lot of juice doesn't actually have juice in it. How a chance meeting can change your destiny. Or your density. It's funny how people think that words don't matter, and money does. It's funny how a nerd can become a millionare, and a beautiful girl who is perfect in every way can be unhappy. How the world never changes, but our view of it always does. How you can dream of what you want, but pray for something else. It's funny how people change lanes in the middle of an intersection, but always walk on the same side of the stairs.

It's funny, sometimes. Life is funny.

First Dates.

Yeah. These are two words that hold infinite potential, and for many people a generous helping of nerves, potential for disaster, awkward silences, and fear of rejection.
OR, if you're me, first dates are also a perfect opportunity to get to know myself a whole lot better. This is because for some reason being on a first date is like sitting in the back seat of a car that someone else is driving. Only, that someone else is me. Date-version me. This person, who I have only ever seen once or twice, emerges at the oddest times and seems to have problems behaving herself in a normal and socially desirable fashion. Usually, Dateme has two distinct sides:

a) The "Mutual Attraction"/Potential hot boyfriend date persona: This one is alternately reserved and brash, coquettish AND sassy. She says things that the normal me would never think to say under first meeting circumstances, somehow managing to actually appear cool and collected, but also disinterested. This girl often sends mixed messages to men, confusing them so they think I'm apathetic and occasionally causing them to give up chase.
b) The "I'm too comfortable for my own good"/"Let's be Friends" date persona: For one reason or another, this persona has obviously decided that she has no interest in said boy, other than as a friend/hangout buddy, and so she completely removes the filter on her words, especially random thoughts and opinions that no one should probably hear unless they are a fellow female...or gay. This is probably done to remove potential for relationshiphood even before that potential is realized. Though extremely entertaining and good for thrilling conversation, the word vomit that comes out to disguise awkward silences is often quite shocking. Streaming discussion pieces have been known to include: past boyfriends, sexual tension, bikini waxing, thoughts on stupid men, and PMS. (All subjects normally placed in the strictly DATE TABOO category.)

Unfortunately, I have had the distinct pleasure of being reacquainted with BOTH of these ladies in the past week, on two different dates with (thankfully) two different people. Our meeting didn't go well.
Let's just say, next time I'm going to have to exorcise them BEFORE a date, either with meditation...or lots of Vodka.

Not Just Waiting...

It’s 1am, and I’ve just put on my mud mask. My linguistics study materials pretty much cover my bed, but I’ve only given them about 20 minutes of collective attention. The midterm for that class is tomorrow, but right now I’m considering dying my hair with this lovely little box sitting on my desk. I’ve had about a quart and a half of Diet Pepsi, and it’s finally starting to kick in, so why study, I tell myself. You have ALL night. Not to mention that presentation for your research class is probably going to be postponed, anyway. Good thinking, self.
For some reason, my imagination buzzes at this time of morning. Thoughts for books; plotlines that have only begun to unfold in my head come alive. Others that have been knocking around in there for a while grow more complex and flesh themselves out. And I wonder why I have trouble sleeping, ha. I KNOW it has absolutely nothing to do with all the diet coke I drink. Occasionally, my thoughts drift to Prince Cocky (Prince Charming would be too grandiose a title for this particular male). At this point, he’s really only a possibility. A supporting character in the tapestry that is my real and imagined life, not without promise, but still a vague inclination. Friday was great, but I’ve been around in the world of romance long enough now to know without question that one good date does NOT a relationship make. Still… I can’t help but picture it. It must be that whole psychoanalysis thing that we did. The cube and the horse…so silly and yet so frighteningly close to, reality? I’m not so sure, but it seemed pretty close.
Anyway, as I sit covered in mint green gelatinous goo, I begin to write a story in my head, where my Prince suddenly comes to the door at 1am, and sweeps me off of my feet, (completely disregarding the fact that I am actually wearing mud, obviously) saying something along the lines of "I can't stop thinking about you." and "I just couldn't wait to see you again." Quite perfect in my head, really.
But... although my imagination can be quite vivid at times, I am reminded of one very spectacular truth. Unlike many princesses who sat in towers and brushed their hair or did needlepoint until their specific hero decided to grace them with his presence, I am NOT just WAITING. I am not content to merely exist until circumstances collide to make me happy, I'm going to make my own. So men, watch out. You might have to break a sweat if you want to catch me.

That is, if you can recognize me through the swamp goo...

A Splendid Day

Some days on the calendar seem to laugh at you with their endlessness. Others, frankly suck. Then there are those that seem innocuous to immediate scrutiny, but after a few (or even 20 or more) hours they become magical. I'm not talking about the "perfect day", mind you, but merely one that is so full of ups and downs and surprises that it reminds you of the whole of your life. When the ups finally come together to make the downs seem worth it.

It could just be a moment. One second during which your eyes are opened and you experience just a little bit of peace, and you can see what your trouble is going to earn you. One day, where at the end you look at what you've got and realize that you still have money in the bank, you've still got hope for tomorrow and even next week, and you still feel like smiling after everything else. Something I've come to learn in my life is that one day can change everything, either for better or worse, but I don't really think it goes that way. Instead, it should be for good or for better...eventually. All things that happen must come full circle, and it is days like these, as precious and few as they may be, which remind us that eventually, everything will be okay.

Not at once. Each thing has a time to be resolved, and that doesn't mean that EVERYTHING will one day be perfect. But some day soon, every thing will come out right. Take one step at a time. Rejoice in each small conclusion, each miniature happy ending. Because life isn't like a fairy tale, where people live happily ever after and that's just it. No more work, no more pain. Instead, we can stop and realize that each day can have a happy ending, no matter how it starts. And when we have one of those, we can say tonight I will live happily... for today was a very splendid day.

I don't think it's that bad, after all.

Suffer On --- By Ronny Park

March 8, 2007

When times are short of mellow

And traffic gets you down,

When you turn to friend or fellow

And instead of smile, they frown,
Remember that I love you

Across all the miles and days,

And find the strength to suffer on

In a million different ways.

Suffer on with gladness

For the lessons you are learning,

Suffer on with dignity

For the self respect you're earning,

Suffer on with charity;

Many can't, but you are stronger,

Suffer on, because I'm watching you

And now I'll suffer on a little longer.

Back in ancient days, before modern usage changed the syntax of the word "to suffer", it was used to mean "endure", "last", and even "triumph".

So when you think of all of the things that you suffer through, don't forget that others like me are watching, thinking that if you can...maybe I can, too. And remember that everything you are suffering...you are enduring.

Thinkings

I am an old soul.

While others my age are out binge drinking, having unprotected premarital sex and exploring the limits of their physical bodies, I am sitting at home listening to Ella Fitzgerald and contemplating my life. Why can't I just go out and live it and forget the consequences?

My friend Pinetree is afraid to fall in love because of what might happen in the future, five or ten years down the road. Whereas I am afraid that I am incapable of falling in love. What happens when a person lives too much pain before their time? When someone is forced to live not only their own mistakes but the mistakes of their parents and theirs, learning from experience far before the experience presents itself? I almost think it is unwise to learn too much from someone else's mishaps. It takes all the fun out of doing it on your own. One day, you will wake up and realize that you haven't ever done anything worth punishing yourself for. Instead, you've been punishing yourself in advance. Instead of learning from love, I now avoid love because I have seen what it can do to people. The pain isn't worth it, I tell myself. I never drink, because I have seen what happens to those who do. I don't make out with strangers. I'm safer that way, I suppose.

However, my friends, it seems as if there is one consequence that I might have overlooked. Yes, I have saved myself the pain of making the wrong decisions. But I have also deprived myself of the fun that can be had in recklessness. I am a spinster at 21, and it is because I haven't drank, haven't felt, haven't been stupid, haven't lived in the moment. My whole life has been like this, a series of prudent saves. But from what? From living? From doing those things which everyone else does, the stupid and rash decisions that make us human? Yes, I am wise beyond my years. But perhaps wisdom can be another word for fear. I am an old soul. And I mourn for the premature loss of my youth.

Stupid Girl's Guide to Ruining Love Day

Okay, so Valentine's Day is just a week away. And what do smart girls do when Valentine's Day is just a week away? If you chose take the relationship to the next level, you're wrong. If you chose get your boyfriend something nice, you are also a loser today. But, if you know me and my horrible luck with relationships, and you chose option c) they break up with their boyfriends, then you would at least be right one times out of a hundred, which works.

Honestly, what kind of an idiot breaks up a relationship right before the national celebration held in their honor, on the year when for the first time EVER they would not have had to celebrate it alone? Obviously, my kind of idiot. Why, might you ask? Well, if I knew the answer to that one, I probably wouldn't feel so stupid right about now. So, in honor of this unprecedented holiday, I give you my latest list:

The Stupid Girl/Guy's Guide to Chilling Alone on Love Day

A List of Helpful Ideas to Start & Finish the Day Off Right - And with a BANG!

1) You should probably begin by sleeping in. A lot. Possibly even miss a class or two, and/or work

2) You should NOT buy yourself or anyone else flowers, because they're just going to die, just like your hopes of ever being un-single again

3) You should not eat ANYTHING that is red, pink, white, or sprinkly. Unless Robbit and I gave it to you, in which case it is a yummy treat and you should indulge with vigor

4) Go see a movie that has a lot of killing and/or crap getting blown up

5) Avoid shopping malls, jewelry stores, fancy restaurants, and all picturesque places. Especially in Provo. Just trust me on this one.

6) Go to Wal-Mart at about 2am, and buy laundry detergent or socks (for yourself)

7) Go to Barnes and Noble. That's where all the other single freaks hang out, and you'll feel better and maybe even find a book about how to make your love life not suck so much

8) Avoid radio stations, and only listen to Albums from groups like All-American Rejects, Dashboard Confessional, and especially Fall Out Boy (all love-hating bands for the most part)

9) Call a single friend and don't mention Valentine's Day ONCE

10) Take your car to the shop

11) Find a gay friend and take them to a romantic spot so they can help you make fun of the couples

12) Find a gay friend and fake a proposal

13) Break someone up (just kidding, don't do that)

14) Go LARPing. (Those kids don't even know what a date is)

15) Watch 10 hours of AskaNinja, followed by Homestar and then what the heck burn out on YouTube

16) Get a tatoo

17) Go get your hair cut, or buy a new outfit (at Wal-mart, because you can't go to the mall)

18) Write a song about your favorite food item

19) Watch almost any movie with Sean Penn. Bound to be totally unromantic.

20) Go to the gym and make a game out of avoiding hitters on

And there's my list. This is foolproof, and if you do these things, I PROMISE you won't spend all your time being depressed about your (recent, in my case) singleness. And, as an added bonus, I'll probably do at least ten of these things, so you might bump into me and we can hang out. Rock on!

EARL's Gotta Die...

Okay, this is for everyone who HATES auto mechanics. Namely, most women. This isn't an untrained bias, mind you, but a deep and cultured loathing that has stemmed from years of experience with these crafty emissaries of Satan. Sure, they seem rather innocuous at first glance. Heck, most of them don't even look like they know how to tie their own shoes. But the second you walk into that grubby world of post high school curricular metal shop, you're in trouble. Because in this world, it doesn't matter that they only got a 12 on their ACTs and haven't smelled soap in years. This is their world, Honey. And you don't stand a chance. Because there's only ONE king of the castle, darlin. And his name is ALWAYS Earl.

You see, I'm one of those girls who has always thought I was smarter than Earl. I've spent enough time staring at the jumble of "stuff" beneath a car's hood to actually know a few things, and I've worked hard to learn certain terminology that makes me sound as if I know what the heck I'm doing. Words that say, "Hey, you know I'm perfectly capable of doing this myself but I just don't have the time. So I'll let you do it Earl but don't even THINK about screwing me over because I'm wise to your tricks." In the past, this has served me semi-well.

But then, my starter broke. And heaven help me I don't even know where the starter is or what it looks like. Still, I've been around enough to know that telling Earl that little fact is like opening a vein in the middle of a feeding frenzy. Not gonna do it, Earl. So I do a little homework, and then I pick up my phone. But here's the thing, I was prepared for an Earl. What I DIDN'T count on was a Doug.

So, I'm talking to him, giving him the basic information of the vehicle, year-make-model, etc... crusing along thinking "Yeah, I've got this!" But you see, whereas Earl is a completely predictable species, Doug is like the LX model for brains and craftiness. He not only has the bare essentials, but a few surprises thrown in as well. So, after a few moments (during which I had effectively dropped a few crucial terms like "displaced rod" and "fly wheel"-whatever the heck that is) he just came at me point blank with, "So, is it a dual-shaft cam, or a single-shaft cam?" Whaaaaat??? Uh... "Beg pardon?" I helplessly try to pull up Google on my laptop, Oh no, oh no! No doubt smiling evilly to himself he repeats the question. I can practically hear the dollar signs "ching ching" and I know that HE knows he's got me.

What the heck is a dual-shaft cam? Are you making this up, Doug? But no, there's no help at hand. Google has failed me and so I'm forced to give in. NOOOOOO!!!
Curse you, Doug. I'll get you somehow. Someday...

The Curse of the Wonderphobes

My friend Skinny is what you might call an individual. He is to most onlookers, a man apart. What most people see in him as mystery and a sort of aloof charm, I have come to know as shyness and a slight agoraphobic tendancy to fear public ridicule. As a result, he stands near the wall, smiling only occasionally and cracking only as many jokes as he needs to fulfill the minimum quota of social participation. In short, he narrowly avoids freakhood but is purposely forgettable to all those who don't know him personally. That said, this man is magnificent. He's good looking, talented, funny, charming, honest, witty, and extremely intelligent. So why, (as many of you girls are probably wondering) does he fy under the radar and escape your notice? Because I believe, somehow, he knows his potential and is afraid to be who he is. Because one thing I and many other Wonderphobes have learned, is that while people might shun imperfection, those that rise above are often hated and criticized even more.

Now, let's jump to another example. Dice, I pray you won't hate me for this but I've been thinking about it for a while. I have this adorable friend who is completely perfect for the role of Goldilocks as written by Stephen Sondheim in the 1980's. She's tiny, blonde, fashionable, and owns more shoes than most people have underwear. Enough said. As such, she is plagued by certain stereotypes, which I will now hasten to explode. Some people would take one look at her and others like her and immediately remark on their fashion, looks, ability to fit into the world around them so stylishly while inspiring trends and being effortless fashionistas for others to copy, role models of pop culture, doctors of the latest trends in music, etc etc ad nauseum. And sometimes, for many of these girls it is easiest to just go along with and encourage this image, because it seems to be what they do best. But not Dice. She not only happens to be one of the cutest and most fashionable girls I know, but (don't let this shock you) she is also one of the smartest. And I don't mean to sound elitist, but I know a lot of very smart people. Unfortunately, I don't think she sees herself in the same light that I do, because just like many of us, she chooses not to aknowledge her own brilliance. As one of my favorite lecturers Marianne Williamson said,

"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear in that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our Light, not our Darkness, that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be?

You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the World. There is nothing enlightening about shrinkingso that other people won’t feel unsure around you. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us.

It is not just in some of us; it is in everyone. As we let our own Light shine,we consciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear,our presence automatically liberates others."

So, for the Wonderphobes of the world, (myself included) I say that whatever is holding us back, whether it be a fear of physical, mental, spiritual, interpersonal, or miscellanious perfection, we need to let it go. And just feel free to be Wonderful.

Why Do We Pine and Willow?

Ha ha, trees. I am so terribly clever.
Right now, I know that I should be studying for my massive midterm tomorrow, the one that is exactly the week before finals and will cost me $5 to take, not to mention about 12 hours to study for. I know that I should give a flying fetch about school, and that I should be on my way to the library this very second. I know that I should NOT have gone shopping for two hours today for a new pair of black pumps with bows that I totally cannot afford. I know that I should not have bought that little black dress. And I DEFINITELY know that I should not have done any of the former for a guy, or worse, for the tiny possibility of a guy.

However, sometimes what you know wrestles with what you do. And sometimes what you know you shouldn't do gets the trash kicked out of it by the things you do anyway. So why am I, an intelligent, moderately successful, charming and attractive woman in her early twenties sitting here writing this when I have about twelve other places to be? It must be bad case of the trees. Because I AM Pining, I am oping, and I am willowing (wallowing) in my own discontent with my current situation. And I just can't seem to stop. I know I shouldn't be, and as far as timing goes let's face it--finals week and before is about THE WORST time I could have picked to go all lethargic and pissy. But whatyagonnado? It's almost Christmas and I'm sad, I'm lonely, I'm fed up with school and work (even though I LOVE my job, go fig) and I just want to kiss someone under the mistletoe and cuddle with hot chocolate. Is that so freaking wrong? Am I somehow more pathetic for admitting this? Or maybe I'm just one of millions who feel the same way, but I just can't take it anymore.

As far as predicaments go, this one really bites the big proverbial donut. Because with relationships, it kind of goes without saying that it "takes two to tango". I suck at tango, which makes it worse. Dam. And to make things even more sick, I went to the mall today and got to watch all the little families and couples walking around. After about 45 minutes of that, I was beginning to think the Grinch really wasn't such a bad guy, and Scrooge might have been right all along. Somebody help me! I'm making friends with embittered mythological characters!

Return to Eden

It's happened. I never thought it would. I swore bloody oaths that I would never return to that cursed place, that I would rather give up my unconcieved firstborn child than allow myself to be enslaved once more. But...then again I suppose it was inevitable. No one can truly ever escape Los Hermanos. Those that have tried ended up dead or worse, ...married. (Shudder) Still, there are some things I might have briefly missed over the past few months. Such as:

-The "Good Game" game

-Half understood conversations with dishwashing personnel

-Half priced quesadillas (pronounced cua-sahd-uh-laaA)

-Jalapenos

-Guys who can jokingly flirt without being creepy...

-Mexicans

-Peachy Ricos

-Spendable Cash and zero responsibility

-Obscure Lindon jokes

-Racherella

-The vatos

-Tight fitting tee shirts...to work

-Stockings being not-optional (okay that's what I don't miss)

-My favorite black person in the whole entire world

-My favorite mormon gay man in the entire world

-Chips, and salsa

NOT cake. But I don't think I'll be there long enough to be a problem, so bring it on.