I hope most people are more observant than this. Otherwise, the world is in trouble.

Last night, I was going over my sparring gear to make sure that I had everything I needed for the tournament (TOMORROW!!), making sure my name was written on everything of mine, and dumping out all my excessive gear that just makes my bag really, really heavy.

Anna and Crystal were in my room with me, chatting as I processed the aforementioned gear. I happen to keep one of my old belts (blue, to be precise) in my bag, for stretching and slow kicking exercises. They were curious about the exercises, so I demonstrated a supported side kick on the wall, and with the belt, that means I can go pretty darn high. After demonstrating, I went back to my gear.

Crystal looked at me for a moment and said, "Wait, you mean you're really a black belt? Like, a real one?"

....



PS: Wish me luck at the tournament tomorrow!

Ultimate Frisbee and the height of Cool

Last night for Family Home Evening, two of our groups combined to play Ultimate Frisbee in the dark. We had a glow-in-the-dark frisbee and everyone wore colored, glow-in-the-dark wristbands. And actually, it was really fun. I totally got into it, which was fun for me. Through the game, the guys (predictably) got REALLY competitive. Our FHE mom had to remind them that there were more than two of them on each team, because they weren't passing to anybody else. After that it got a little better, but they were still really competitive. For me, the choice was to either get in there and play right along with them, or not to have a good time and just be mad at them all. So, I played right along with them. I was racing all over the field, I got hit in the face by the frisbee, I got tripped and shoved, but I also tripped and shoved (not so much on purpose as in self defense!) and frankly I had a great time.

Afterward, I was at a friend's house with a small group of friends, and we were talking briefly about the game. At one point there was a touchy moment when we were talking about one of the guys who had gotten really competitive. The girls were not much impressed by this young man [we will call him Brad], but one of the guys declared, "Nah, he's so cool. I look at that guy and I wish I was him."

I started really contemplating what it means to be "cool". I was at the time thinking in reference to my singles ward. Certainly, coolness is based upon the admiration of others. In that way, Brad is certainly possessed of some coolness. In a related sense, it has to do with attention--people who are cool are people who can hold the attention of others, and then their admiration.

HOWEVER. I came to the conclusion last night that true coolness isn't one-sided. A person who is really "cool" includes instead of excludes. The people that others really admire are the ones who make them feel cool too. That's where Brad fails--he certainly doesn't make me feel cool when I'm around him (he just annoys me when I'm around him, but I'm working to overcome that). So I don't think he's cool. Our other friend feels cool around him, so he thinks Brad is cool.

I doubt this is as impressive a realization to anyone else as it was to me. I just realized that social acceptance isn't about exclusion, it's about inclusion, for real and true. People love people who make them feel loved and important. They may admire the ones who seem "cool", but they'll respect and love the ones who make them feel cool too. I guess it's really about the level of sincerity involved. Which means I need to get off my high horse and accept these boys in all their competitive, arrogant, and narrow-sighted glory. ;)

I am interested for your thoughts, if you have them. What does cool mean to you?

Weekends

Somehow without my knowledge or consent, my weekends have become insanely busy. Not that I mind, of course. It's just when it's unexpected that it becomes a little overwhelming. Not totally overwhelming. Just a little.

Take this weekend, for instance. It was supposed to be relatively quiet. My best friend Melissa came down from Ogden, and I was supposed to just spend the weekend with her. 'Supposed to' being the key phrase here.

I just never stopped moving. Friday night was full (and I also failed as a human being that night), and we didn't get home until late. Saturday was mostly filled by helping my friends Sam and Ashley move--Melissa had cleared that beforehand and seemed cheerful about it, but I certainly hadn't expected to be there most of the day.

I also got to show Melissa the house and it wasn't as bad as I remembered. I'm actually quite fond of it in my head, and I gained Melissa's approval. So we'll see how that goes.

Sunday was jam-packed, and I didn't really get any time alone with Melissa (story of the weekend). I hope she still loves me...I'll have to make it up to her...somehow...

After church and ward choir, there was break the fast, and while there I started playing the piano and ended up with a bunch of people singing, which was lovely. I've missed that. That evening, I got to play some pranks with my friend Cheri, played games with some friends of our ward until we went to ward prayer, and then I stayed talking at Cheri and Marjorie's house til almost one. I'm a wee bit tired today.

I can't really complain, because I had a good weekend. It was just so BUSY. And today I flipped the calendar over to March and started filling in my obligations, and EVERY WEEKEND in March is already booked! I can't believe it. I just have tons of stuff going on, it's madness. And I'm not sure I can expect the weekdays to be much better--seeing as how I'm still trying to add more activities to my life. But again...I can't complain! Busy is how I prefer to be.

Games

I'm a trifle disappointed this evening, only because there were some members of my FHE group who did not enjoy Mao, which is my new favorite game, introduced to me by the Haycocks. I'm surprised by how many people I meet who have played it before. And I tried to lead my FHE group in this game, and it only lasted one round because some of the young men simply wouldn't cooperate. I suppose they thought they were being funny. Not that I don't like these boys, but I was disappointed all the same. I try to at least show a modicum of enthusiasm for things my friends like to do. I mean...isn't that common courtesy?

Valentine's Dance

I hope you have a great day!

I read a lot of blogs. Most of them belong to friends and family, but sometimes I go exploring. I also have received recommendations from friends of blogs THEY read that I may enjoy (hint hint, nudge nudge). There is something about this format that fascinates me. Perhaps it is the very personal nature of it. I mean, a blog is almost like a journal for some people, where its a soap box for others, and anything inbetween. I enjoy discovering more about people, and more about how other people see and experience the world. Besides, I simply enjoy to read.

Today I was deeply affected by something I read. I don't know the blogger personally, its a friend of a friend. And I don't want to get into too much detail. But what I read made me step back and really examine something that I believed. I questioned, I probed, I pondered. For a solid hour this morning, I was profoundly disturbed by this thing that I read written by someone I don't even know.

I got over it. I read something else that made me feel better. I realized that I did in fact believe what I thought I believed. My belief was not shaken, but I could not believe in that moment how profoundly affected I was by this stranger's blog.

I guess my thought is that we never know how we're going to affect other people by our daily actions. This is what the R.S. teaches all the time with visiting teaching. It is our belief that God puts people in our path to better our lives--and that he uses US in that way to benefit others. And I sometimes worry that I am letting those opportunities pass by.

Today I read a talk by President Monson . I have this one last thought to share. I apologize for the overt religiousness, please bear with me. But this statement struck me particularly today:

"Opportunities come, and then they are gone. I believe that among the greatest lessons we are to learn in this short sojourn upon the earth are lessons that help us distinguish between what is important and what is not. I plead with you not to let those most important things pass you by as you plan for that illusive and non-existant future when you will have time to do all that you want to do. Instead, find joy in the journey--now. We will never regret the kind words spoke or the affection shown. Rather, our regrets will come if such things are omitted from our relationships with those who mean the most to us."

Dear reader, I hope that you have a wonderful day. Let it be a good one. It IS Friday, after all. :)

The Value of Hard Work

Today is Friday. Normally I am a great lover of Fridays. There's just something about them that makes them seem infinitely brighter than the rest of the week. Maybe it's the imminent freedom of the approaching weekend. Or maybe the sun just shines more on Fridays (not that it seems that way on this rainy day!!) Today's Friday seems particularly bright, however, because I am pretending the roadshow does not exist. That's right. Today there is no roadshow. It will come back tomorrow in full force, but for today I am blissfully ignoring its existence.

What I really wanted to write about today is the somewhat abstract concept of hard work. It's been on my mind as I watch people and society around me. Our society has grown remarkably lazy, as no one will hesitate to point out. People (I use the term in its most vague and general terms) seem to expect rewards to simply be handed to them. Jobs. Diplomas. Money. I see this at work a lot--people who call in wanting refunds, because times are hard, and expecting to get money just for the asking. Well, friends--times are hard for us, too.

Hard work is not a concept I have appreciated in every part of my life. I have had my lazier periods--still do, in fact. There are a lot of nasty or difficult tasks that come through a persons' life.

However, I am coming to appreciate just how beautiful and important hard work really is.

There are plenty of platitudes out there about hard work; I will try to spare you. But with utmost sincerity I can tell you that when you really work for something, when you work so hard you think you'll explode with the stress of it, when you've given everything you have and still you are asked to give more...well, I believe that's when you really find the value in it, whether it's a job, education or church, a relationship or a friendship. Putting in the effort gives these things value.

I look at my college experience, particularly in the theatre. My last show there, Henry V, was immensely challenging. It required hours upon hours of effort, and every last drop of ingenuity I had. I gave it my all, everything and more that I had to give. There were other shows like that too, but Henry V truly stands out as the crowning jewel of my experience there. I loved that show. And it's because I wanted to enjoy it. I wanted to be happy, working as hard as I was. And amazingly enough, it worked.

I look now at my singles' ward experience. Through college, I never had a ward that I really cared about. I always wanted cool callings, and was regularly disappointed by the things I was asked to do. My efforts therefore were lackluster--I went to church, I played the piano in Sacrament meeting or whatever my calling was, but that was the extent of my efforts. But my current ward...I went in with the desire and intention to challenge myself. I asked for a challenging calling--not a glory-filled one like I had always imagined that I 'deserved', but something that would stretch me and my skills, something that would take effort and preparation. I was called as a gospel doctrine teacher. Since that calling, nearly everyone I have told of it has sympathized, bemoaned my fate. And yet...I don't find myself complaining. It's difficult. It's a lot of work. It scares the crap out of me every single time. But...I wouldn't give it up for the world.

I look at this roadshow. I have been commended for taking it on, but honestly, I didn't think about it twice when I was asked. And it has been so rewarding--challenging, certainly. Frustrating at times. Chaotic and maddening. But I've gotten to know more people, I've gotten to write and direct, to teach a little and to enjoy these wonderful people who have sacrificed of their time to participate. Throughout the entire experience, I have not begrudged the work and the time and the effort, because it is so worth it!

I don't mean to be self-righteous, and I don't mean to preach. This is more a self-exploration of these things anyhow--realizing that when I have given of my efforts as selflessly as possible, I have enjoyed the experience more. I want to explore the things that I have realized are important.

My point here is that the joys of hard work apply everywhere, to everything. Nothing in this life is going to be easy, and if it is you're probably doing it wrong. The Gospel of Jesus Christ was not meant to be easy--we have to work for it, every moment of every day we have to restore our faith and our desire to follow the direction we have been given. Our daily life was not meant to be easy--we should find ways to challenge ourselves, to force ourselves to grow and improve. Whether its through work or hobbies or friendships, we will be happier if we are active and involved and seeking to challenge ourselves. And when the trials come--hardships through family or finances, through personal challenges or deep questions, my response to you is the same: just keep trying, and have faith. The same goes for relationships, whether with spouses or siblings or children or aunts or cousins or friends, close or the barest acquaintence. Relationships are not easy. They take work, hard and something grueling effort, whether to overcome anger or to overcome apathy, to fight the little annoyances, or to win their heart each and every day. Nothing worthwhile is easy, and if you stop working to keep the things that are important to you, you will lose them, more often than not simply through your own indifference.

The Roadshow: Part Y

I'm really mad at myself, because I meant to take pictures at rehearsal tonight and I totally spaced it. There was even a great moment where, exhausted, J.T. and I were still up writing song lyrics and arranging a reprise. Oh yes, dear reader, we are ADDING a musical number--ANOTHER musical number--with the performance less than three days away. Oh yes we can! And I totally should have gotten a picture, at least of the musical rehearsals this evening. I am an utter failure as a historian.

Other than that, rehearsals are going fairly well. Tonight was hard, people were tired--I certainly was--and the energy wasn't quite where we wanted it to be. Hopefully tomorrow is better--it had better be, or I'm going to kick some booty, I'll just say that here and now! Then we have Friday night off (Hallelujah!) and then Saturday is the big day. So keep your fingers crossed folks we are counting down the days!

Election Day

I really wanted to vote this morning before work, but then I didn't get up as early as I had wanted to, and I feared--rightfully--the lines at the polling place. Our head programmer was over an hour late to work today because of the voting lines, so it turns out a good thing that I waited. However, I think next time around I will make a greater effort to get up and vote early.

And so, at 5:00pm I made my way to my polling place over at the junior high, where I was admitted promptly, quickly tapped my way through the ballot, printed, ejected, got my puny "I Voted!" sticker, and left. It was all rather anticlimactic, I'll admit.

I've been idly discussing with my cousin the high hopes of turning Utah into a blue--or at least battleground--state, and the idea holds a great appeal. I'd like to live somewhere where people don't scorn me for saying that my vote--or theirs!--matters. A place where the vote isn't taken for granted, but where there is real question and the outcome of every persons vote DOES matter.

Today at work, out of boredom more than anything, I ended up discussing Prop 8 with my coworker. This has become a national debate, the results affecting far more than just California citizens. Cindy and I could come to no conclusion. I still don't know how I feel about it. On the one hand, I have many gay and lesbian friends, and a big part of me supports their desire to marry and have the same legal status as hetero couples. On the other hand, I have my religious beliefs that state a marriage is between a man and a woman. I wish that it didn't have to become a legal issue, and could remain a religious battle. In my mind, what right--what honest, legal right--does a government have to define, limit or impune upon the rite of marriage? Is it not strictly a religious observance in the first place? And yet, due to differing and contending belief systems, it has become an unfortunate and violent legal battle, and an exhaustive one at that.

At any rate, I just wanted to say that I am proud to have voted today, proud to have supported my candidates in this tight race--if not in Utah, then at least across the face of this ridiculous nation.

Here's another

I think that in the weeks leading up to the presidential election (and perhaps many, many more after that) I am simply going to have to accept and find amusement in the political bias and commentary from some of my coworkers. Some I have discussed before. And there shall be more to come.

Today, after a long-winded denouncement of Barack Obama's economic/tax plan (which I support), and after a long-winded rant about Obama's stance on abortion (which I don't), my coworker preceded to (I kid you not) denounce Barack Obama as the Anti-Christ.

Oh yes. I kid you not.

I could not ignore him any longer (which is my usual tact when he starts talking politics, while my other coworker nods and agrees with him, which is sometimes a little much for me.)

I burst out laughing.

There's simply no other way to deal with people like this.

If only it worked for angry customers on the phone.

Can't we all get along?

I've been witnessing some unsuspected discrimination at work over the last few days.

Political discrimination.

Now, of course political debates are heated. Of course people disagree. Of course people argue when their political views differ. But I've never before witnessed discrimination based solely on political views.

Last week, one of my coworkers wanted a stamp, and the office manager wouldn't give him one because he intends to vote for Barack Obama. It was almost that simple. She had the excuse of not giving him company property for personal use, but down and simple, she wouldn't give him the stamp because of who he's voting for. I call that prejudice and discrimination.

Today, one of the programmers was RAILING against Obama, slandering his policies, and shouting for the entire office to hear that people who vote for Obama are idiots. He knows that I'm voting for Obama, as does the office manager, who just as loudly agreed with him. Again, I call that discrimination.

I find it bizarre. Of course, who you vote for matters. Of course who becomes President matters. But I don't think it should matter on a day-to-day level, so that people feel uncomfortable around each other, so that business is interfered. I've been discriminated against before, but never for this. Teased, yes. Mocked, yes. Mildly ridiculed, yes. But always in a way that I still felt proud to be a Democrat, that I still felt like I could stand up for my beliefs.

Today, I felt ashamed, belittled, and degraded. Last week, I felt the same way for my coworker who just wanted to mail a letter. This shouldn't happen. Not over this. Our political party system is flawed, but it took me 22 years to discover how much so.

My cousin's wedding

On Thursday, my parents and I flew to Louisiana for my cousin Audrey's wedding. First off, I would like to reiterate my love of driving. I would rather drive just about anywhere. The only reason I can see to fly is to save time. It's uncomfortable, it's nauseating, it's crowded and cramped and you don't get to see anything but the inside of the cabin and the back of some guy's head in front of you. Ugh. Yes, I would much rather drive.

Anyhow, we finally made it to New Orleans, where we waited in line for ages at the Hertz rental station for our "mid-sized vehicle"...a Toyota Corolla. Don't get me wrong, I love Toyotas, and hope to own one some day--a pickup truck, actually--but I in no way consider a Corolla "mid-sized."

We drove up to Baton Rouge, to the LDS Temple there, and I proceeded to sit in the waiting room for three hours while my cousin received her endowment. Unfortunately, I hadn't brought much with me for entertainment. I wrote for awhile--I'm working on a new novel about wilderness conservation--and I read the September Ensign cover to cover, and I paced for awhile, and there at the end I started reading the Book of Mormon in Spanish, next to the copy in English. I learned the coolest word: Todopoderoso. It means Almighty (as in, the Lord God Almighty.)

I met my cousin's husband (to be, at the time) for the first time that night. He's an older guy (37 to her 19), but he's aging well, and at first glance I would put him in his mid or late twenties. He has a definite Canadian accent, which is even more apparent next to her Southern version. He talks a lot, and he talks mostly about the house he's building, which I suppose could get old after the third time you heard it. But he seems like a fairly nice guy, and I decided after three days of knowing him that he wasn't a total creepoid. However, the relationship was very odd at first glance. They never touched, no hand-holding, no shoulder-hugging, no arm-brushing. And they hardly ever looked at each other. They are strangers--physically, if nothing else. I found it very odd, disconcerting.

My parents and I have stayed at my aunt and uncle's house in Thibodaux (tib-oh-doh), where we have spent time with them, my cousins, and some of our other family who came in for the wedding. On Friday, we spent the morning decorating at the church. I will admit here and now that I am a controller, a decider. I often find myself in charge of various operations I engage in, and decorating was no different, until another woman, from the ward, showed up. Talk about too many chefs in the kitchen! With my aunt, uncle, both parents, two cousins, myself and this woman, there were just too many thinking heads. Eventually I escaped to play the piano in the other room, rather than exploding at anybody. I didn't know a better way, and I wasn't about to fight with anybody just to tell them their way was dumb! However, there is a happy end of the tale to come.

Friday afternoon we went to a wedding dinner at a Chinese buffet in Baton Rouge, which was nice. They had decent sushi, a pleasant surprise. I took cameo pics while my dad acted as the wedding photographer, since the one they had planned to have fell through after the hurricane here. After dinner, we fought traffic in BR to make it to the temple just in time to change, take a few pictures, and hurry in for the wedding. I sat outside with my 10-year-old cousin Julia and we both got eaten alive by mosquitos, but got some good pictures. Afterward we all drove back to Thibodaux. My cousin and her new husband got to ride in the back of her parents' van together, and upon reaching town, they went to the hotel to be alone together for the first time ever. Yes. Ever. If I ever received the kind of supervision they got from her parents, I would strangle someone.

Saturday we bummed at the house until it was time to go to the church. The happy end to my earlier tale was how lovely the reception turned out. The decorations ended up being quite tasteful, and speaking of, the food was delicious, and there was lots of it. There was a live jazz band, which was lots of fun, although there wasn't nearly enough dancing. The bride and groom hardly danced at all. They hardly spent much time together, either, which is just one of the many oddities. Talking to my aunt later, she remarked on the oddness of her daughter, and we can only hope that she outgrows it with time.

Sunday morning we went to church with the family. Afterward, the whole family gathered to try and help my cousin repack her four ENORMOUS suitcases, which contained 90% light, summer clothing which she will certainly have no need of in her new home of northern Canada. However, she stubbornly retained this vast wardrobe, and so we sent her off with her bulging suitcases, on to a new and hopefully happy life.

Today we mostly just hung out. My father the fix-it man took care of some odd jobs for my aunt and uncle while they were at work and school. My parents and I, upon my aunt's recommendation, went out to lunch at a pleasant little Southern restaurant in town. I had a crawfish pasta in a Cajun cream sauce, which was delicious. This evening, we taught the family the Totally Insane Card Game, which I have discussed in previous posts. And of course, I am staying up this evening to make a midnight run to Wal-Mart in order to purchase Iron Man.

Overall, I can only conclude that my cousin is odd, and hope for her happiness. She is very reserved, and doesn't express her emotions openly whatsoever. It was impossible, at any point, to discern whether she was happy, but she went through with the marriage, and so now I can only hope that she can find support and happiness in Canada, and that she will grow to love her stranger-husband and his family, and her new home.

Hope smiles

I live in Happy Valley, Utah, which basically means that I'm an old maid at 22 (next week), and that 6 months is a long time to date before marriage, let alone an engagement. It means that there are babies and pregnant women everywhere, and it means there's an LDS church on every block (almost literally). It also means that there are a LOT of happy, pleasant people around. They definitely have their quirks, but they are, generally, rather pleasant people. Speaking as an outside observer, of course. ;)

I've been waffling a lot lately, which I find to be rather unlike myself. I spent four years of college determined and knowing exactly where I was going, what I was doing, and trying to pre-determine what would happen as far into the future as possible. I considered myself one of the most foresighted people around. So waffling seems quite out of character, really, except that I've been waffling for the last eight months now, with hardly an end in sight.

Grad school, then a mission both fell by the wayside (though either could spring back up at any moment.) Going back to school has been dismissed for the time being, since I can't really figure what I would major in if I did end up going back. I like my job, but despite all my efforts, it remains a part-time position, which means it can't satisfy in the long run. I want to write, but I am unsatisfied with my work, and besides, that will always be a long shot I can never count on. I want to get married, but there's even less guarantees there, despite every encouragement from my mother. (Love you, Mom!)

Hope smiles everywhere, though. I got to talk to a friend tonight, a friend in the midst of soul-searching troubles, and a ray of hope smiled into my life. Perhaps it's just a moment that will pass as so many do, but perhaps I can touch this friend's life for the better. Perhaps God will touch, and change will follow. I can hope.

I got to see many friends tonight, some of whom I haven't seen in years. And it was like old times, only richer. I have got to be one of the luckiest women on the face of this world, to have friends like I have. True friends, friends who would be there in a moment for any cause. Tonight it was my high school friends, friends who have stood together for eight years or more now. How implausible and wonderful is that? We talked, we laughed, we played games, we (or rather, they) sang songs and played the piano. It's a kind of innocence, those friendships. We are free from the things of the world, distractions that might drag us down, or make our friendships less meaningful. I will always have these friends, and they will always stand by me and want my happiness, as I do theirs. Hope smiles.

I have hope. I have so much hope, sometimes I want to burst with it, and I just have to tell somebody everything, because hope is just too beautiful to keep to oneself. I have hope that my life WILL have meaning, despite my current troubles. I have hope for my friends who have need right now. I have hope that I will find balance. I have hope that I will be able to serve others, as they have served me.

Oh, and I have hope that Obama will win the election. Ha!

Blogosphere

I feel like I'm part of the wrong generation, as far as blogging is concerned. And as weird and unnatural as it may sound to say, I feel that I'm too young for my preferred blogosphere.

Most of the people my age that I connect with via blog are still using blogs as either a space to rant, or as a literary commons, or some mixture of both. Nothing wrong with this, of course.

However, many of the moms I connect with via blog are using their blogs as something much more interesting--a regular, sometimes daily, dialogue about their lives. This is not a journal by any means, but a specific, often satirical commentary on what goes down around them. And often it's not just specific events, its these women's opinions and thoughts on the world around them.

It's fascinating! It's what I try to use this blog for, rather than a diatribe about my personal life. A social commentary, written from a single viewpoint, acknowledging that not everyone will agree, not trying to really sway anybody, just out there for anybody who's interested.

What's more (and something I wish I had a bit more of) families are using blogs to keep up with each other. My son's adoptive mother keeps a separate blog just about him, that has limited access for people she knows, so she can protect him. But this is an easy, fast way to keep family updated about what's happening in his world! We can see pictures and videos and read stories, without her needing to write a dozen emails every day.

My cousin Hollie uses her blog in a similar fashion, keeping friends and family updated on her daughter Elaina, who's still in the hospital after her third open heart surgery. She doesn't have time to call thirty people every day with updates, but a blog satisfies almost everybody.

And then there's just the housewife's blog, the woman who writes about people she met that day, or things she read, or thoughts she had. This is the truly fascinating blog, the one written by ordinary, everyday people, who can turn their ordinary, everyday lives into something entertaining and thought-provoking for other people.

I wish I had a blog community. I don't fit into the "Mom" circle, because I don't have kids to blog about, and unfortunately that is a major component of those "housewife" blogs. And my own circle of blog-friends are not "regulars"--they don't hunt around and read each other's blogs every other day, they're only on when there's something significant happening in their own world. (Not that it's bad, guys! Just a different style!) And so I'm left without a major reader-base, and I'll admit that I feel somewhat neglected.

The time will come, perhaps (and perhaps it will wait until after the babies come) that I can find a better place in the blogosphere. Can't wait.

A Mormon girl working in the theatre on a Sunday afternoon

My mother complained to me today that I haven't blogged in forever, so I endeavor to remedy that. I'm pretty sure my mother is my only consistent reader, so I do try to keep her happy. You know, besides all of the OTHER reasons I try to keep my mother happy. :)

Part of the reason it's been awhile is that we have been kah-razy busy the last few days. I've talked about Site Specifics before. Basically, it's theatre based on the venue, rather than on a script. However, that means we don't have the base of a theater to work from--we're building from the ground up, creating scenery, lighting and sound effects, and anything else you can think of, to a PLACE--anywhere on campus the directors like and can get approved. Once we're past, I'll post more details and hopefully some pictures. But like I've said before, this is pretty much the coolest thing we do here. The most unique, anyway. It keeps our whole crew hopping for the week leading up to the shows.

At church today, I couldn't help noticing how many pregnant women there were. I kid you know, half of the Relief Society is pregnant. Granted, it's a pretty young ward, lots of toddlers running around. But still, I don't think I've ever been in such a group. All these crazy bellies! It was strange to see the age differences, too. There were expecting mothers who looked no older than me--their early twenties, if that. There were late-twenties moms with a kid or three already. But then there were a couple pregnant women who seriously had to be in their late thirties or early forties! Now, there's nothing wrong with this, of course, it's just funny to see the difference. The young mothers were spry and cute, with tight-fitting maternity blouses and chic skirts with expanded waistlines. The older ladies...heck, they don't care anymore, they were in loose, sack-like, flower-printed dresses to keep cool and comfy. I had to laugh. Those younger moms will learn!

Have you ever had a group of babies staring at you all at once? Toddlers, too, I guess. I don't know why I'm a target for this attention. Sitting in the congregation, surrounded by the aforementioned young families, I kept catching these young watchers. I would smile, then look back at the speaker, or my hymnbook, or the wall somewhere away from their wide, innocent eyes. There was the little boy next to me, his older sister on his other side, the little girl and her littler brother in front of me, and the four-year-old redhead in front of them. Hardly a moment went by where there wasn't at least one set of eyes on me. I didn't see them staring at anyone else in particular. Maybe I had Sharpie on my face? It was somewhat disconcerting, I'll admit. I didn't really mind, though. I like little'ns, as Sam would say.

It's hard to remember that it's Sunday, at work. That's part of the reason we (Mormons in particular) try not to work on Sunday, I suppose. Everybody's talking, everybody's in a rush, people are irritated and frustrated and tense and trying to make things work. Nobody around here but me is trying to focus on anything else, I suppose, but if they were, I'm sure they'd find it just as difficult as I do.

Part of the mission statement here is that we function as an artists colony, separate from the outside world and focused entirely on the kids' art. That's the biggest focus, really--the kids. Still, the atmosphere here is infectious. All of us have said at one point or another that we feel inspired here, that it affects our own artistic inclinations. I can't help but to write. One of the other women here broke out her paints practically upon arriving. There is just something about being surrounded by other artists that invokes the muse.

Beautiful Sunday

Sometimes I really love being Mormon.

This morning, I was so tired--I didn't go to bed THAT late, but I've spent that last two months or so on a schedule of 2am to bed, 10am to rise, so scaling back to midnight-8am is a challenge, and will have to go back further by next week. Long and short--getting up for church this morning was a challenge.

I got sort of lost driving to church. Last year, a Sister Hodubski drove me to church each Sunday over the summer. I vaguely remembered the way, and I looked on Google Maps, but I still managed to get a bit turned around. However, I just kept going in the right general direction, and I prayed that Heavenly Father would help me find the church. Well, I found Old French Road, and I could remember the way from there, but I was still very thankful when I saw that familiar building on the hill.

I love the church here. It's a different ward this year, since the Erie 2nd Ward now meets at one in the afternoon, and that will probably conflict with my job in a few weeks. But the 1st ward is just as good, and a lot younger. Last year, I saw with grandparents, or couples with kids out to college. The ward this year is mostly young families, with a baby and some toddlers. Its a lot more lively, but still very spiritual. I was greeted by no less than five people before Sunday School started, which is even before the Relief Society nabbed me--I got asked to say the closing prayer almost before they knew my name! So friendly, so outgoing. I admire the members out here, out in the mission field.

Speaking of which--they had four sets of missionaries. Six elders (two of which were Spanish speaking) and two sisters. Isn't that cool? This area isn't that big, but the work goes forward at a rampant pace. I find it thought provoking.

But just in general, it's such a beautiful day. I'm so glad I got up and went to church. It's just these little things that make everything worthwhile. I got to drive through the most beautiful part of Erie this morning on my way to and from church, listening to the Tabernacle Choir in my car. I'm so glad to be here, to be working with these people and the kids to come, to be able to experience what I'm here to do. Oh, and I'm also really glad to have my car. :)

All I can suggest is that you take some time this Sunday to get out of the house and enjoy the sunshine (hopefully you have some, wherever you are) and just enjoy what life (and God) have given you. It's an awesome world, and we're meant to enjoy it.

Long week/end: summary, nothing profound

I've spend most of this week up at Primary Children's with my cousin Hollie and her daughter Elaina, who had open-heart surgery on Thursday. Updates at Hollie's blog. It's amazing how stressful waiting can be. I mean, you're just sitting around, or pacing, or both, you're not really doing anything physically taxing, but I'll tell you what, by Thursday night our whole family was exhausted--none less so than little Elaina-bug and her mama.

Hospitals are fascinating places. You would not believe everything that goes on there unless you spend a lot of time there. I've also found that ICUs are way busier than other parts of the hospital--constant action, streams of people coming in and out. Doctors, nurses, therapists, technicians, janitors, social workers--entirely besides patients, parents and visitors. And you would not believe the Sounds! I sat for a few minutes with Elaina and just listened, identifying sounds. I mean, there's monitors watching every bodily function she has. There were bubbling sounds from the chest tubes sucking liquid from her lungs and chest. There's the ventilator pumping, breathing for her. There's people talking, in the rooms and out at the nurses' station. People washing their hands, the automatic towel dispenser nearly giving me a heart attack every time it went off. I mean, this is a hopping place! And Primary's, as I think I've said before, isn't like most hospitals. I mean, for one thing, its full of children, which entirely changes the aspect of the place. But for another, there's a lot more hope there than at other hospitals. Maybe because its children, or maybe its just because its a special place, I don't know. I think it takes special people to work there, and they sure make a difference.


On a different note, today was something of an adventure. My best friend Melissa is turning 22 next week, and because of my job I am going to miss it again this year, so I told her I'd come up this weekend and do whatever she wanted to do. So last night we went to the drive-in movie in Roy (or is it Ogden?). I'd never been to the drive-in before, so I was pretty excited. We took some lawn chairs and a bunch of blankets, and we set up between two cars with their windows down--we had pretty good surround sound! It's always a double feature there, so first we saw Kung Fu Panda--it was funny, but definitely a kids movie. Then we slept through Indiana Jones--but at least I'd seen it before! We didn't get home until after two, but it was fun.

I spent the morning with Melissa and her family, then I headed south. I had lunch with Gregory at a little Frenchie restaurant downtown called Les Madelines. I had a Sesame Chicken Wrap, which was quite delicious, and a pastry dessert that I couldn't even begin to spell or pronounce, but which was nevertheless delicious. And, of course, I had a chance to chat with my Gregums, which was wonderful and well-needed.

Next stop was a brief visit at Primary's--I sat with Elaina for awhile so that Hollie could take a nap. I wish I could have stayed longer! My hope is that Hollie can get some rest tonight, she's wearing herself pretty thin.

Then it was down to T-ville to visit Dixy. We never ended up having our LOST party--we were trying to set up a date that we could watch LOST together, but it didn't happen. I'm just glad I got to see her. We went grocery shopping and picked up some father's day cards, then she had to go to work.

I had been planning to stop over at my birthfather's house for a little while after that, but my sisters were gone and 'step-mom' Jenny is sick, so I ended up driving over to my Pop's work to say hi and give him his card and return "Meet the Robinsons" which I borrowed last week. It was good to see him, I'm glad I went--he would've been mad if I hadn't seen him before leaving for PA. He's way too good to me!

Then it was home to Orem at last--I feel like I haven't been here for days, because of all the time I've spend in SLC this week, so it was good to come home and crash on the couch for awhile. Poor little Ben's really sick--he's been puking on and off all day, even since I've been home. Rough day for the poor guy. But we watched Toy Story 2 together, then it was off to bed.

So, I leave for Pennsylvania on Tuesday. I'm driving out, planning to take three days to get there. It's something over 1800 miles, and the largest chunk comes first--I'll be driving to Kearney, Nebraska on Tuesday, to stay with my uncle there. My aunt--Hollie's mom--will be here helping Hollie and helping take care of Ben. I'm actually pretty excited about the drive, but we'll see how it goes.

Advice

The true secret of giving advice is, after you have honestly given it, to be perfectly indifferent whether it is taken or not, and never persist in trying to set people right.

Ammendment to "Waiting"

I spend almost two hours at the eye doctor's today, and I'm so irritated! I seriously waited an hour and a half before even being called back. Then I got some nasty eyedrops and sat waiting another fifteen minutes before the doctor finally deigned to see me. He looked at my eyes for about two minutes, then spent another five lecturing me about how this was a normal situation, a normal bodily process that they didn't fully understand, blahdeblah. I sat there thinking, "Okay, would you shut up now and let me leave?" Then, finally, he did, and I did.

It was so irritating! To wait so long just for that, I was infuriated. Of course I didn't want anything to be wrong, but it makes me mad that they were so overbooked that it took two hours to get five minutes' worth of his precious attention. They really should do a better job of scheduling their appointments. Note to all: learn how to manage your time! Whether personally, or for your business, or whatever.

Freaking doctors. Grr.

Renting Blues

So, I'm moving home. This is a rather unfortunate circumstance which I do not entirely regret. I need to save money, and all the reasons I moved to Salt Lake in the first place are mostly null and void, the only exceptions being 1) my independence and 2) living with Dixy, one of my best friends from college. Right now I need to save money (particularly considering that I have none) and hopefully I can get a job down here just as easily as one in Salt Lake.

With these things in mind, I spent half of last week trying to get in touch with my landlords, who were apparently away from their phones the whole time. At last reaching my landlady on Saturday, I informed her that I had lost my job, and that I needed to move out at the end of the month. As we had discussed when I signed my lease, she said she would list my room, and if she could find a renter she would let me out of my lease. I agreed this was fair, and went my way.

Today, I searched online listings to find my room. No luck. I checked all the regular haunts where Dixy found the house in the first place, to no avail. It's not there.

All I want to say is WTF? Did she forget? Am I being screwed? I don't know, I don't really care. I listed the room myself, and hopefully I can get things taken care of so I can get out of the lease. These landlords have been pretty good all around, so I don't want to jump the gun. I just want a peaceful resolution.

So, if anybody is looking for an apartment in Taylorsville, let me know. I've got a pretty sweet place for you.