Playing Grown-Up

I just got back from a wedding reception for a couple of my friends. In this case, by a couple I really do mean 2. For the sake of the entry, we'll call them just Bride and Groom.

Bride and Groom met in the ward here in the YM/YW program. He is one year older than she is, and they both started to like each other when he turned 16. She was still 15, and so they waited about a year to start officially dating. They then dated for 2 years, and he went the way of 19-year-old worthy young men in the church, and headed on a mission. She finished high school and wrote him, and then headed off to BYU-I. She continued to write him, went through some tough stuff, kept writing, and he got home last month. She came home for Thanksgiving, about 16 hours after he was released from being a missionary, and he proposed to her 4 hours later. She left to go back to school about a week later, and then came back about 2 weeks before they got married, yesterday. In grand total they've spent about 3 weeks together in the past 110 weeks.

For me, this is WAY fast. Crazy fast! In Bride's words: "I waited a year to start dating him, two years for him to go, two years for him to get back, I don't want to wait anymore!" Granted, they both look happy, and things will likely go well for them, but looking at them gave me the sensation that they were playing dress-up. The dress and suit fit perfectly, and they did all the things that happy cake-cutting newlyweds are supposed to do, but still, it all seemed play.

Now, this could very well just be me. All my life I've looked forward to something happening in the future: going to school, moving, going to middle school, moving some more, high school, moving, graduation, college etc. And each time I get to a new place, I think, wow, when I get to the next step, then I'll really be grown up. Somehow though, at each new step, I don't feel really different. Either that, or (especially in the case of college) I go through the motions for enough time that I become accustomed to a place, and then I become familiar with it, and then I get to be good at it. The whole, practice makes perfect thing. But I don't ever end up feeling like I'm any more grown up. I think it might be because it happens too gradually. I "play grown-up" until it becomes reality to me, at which point it's usually time to move onto playing something else. At this point, I can't realistically see myself in a wedding dress, or at my own reception, or in the temple, at least not in the near future. Good thing I've still got a couple of years.

Talktrine

I went back to my home ward today, along with my family, and it was...well, interesting.

Now, I love my family, and I had a blast with them, but the Sacrament meeting talks were both classic examples of first-rate talktrine (talk-trin...like doctrine, except not). My ward here practices the full use of talktrine all the time. "Let me 'splain. No, there is too much, let me sum up."

Talktrine is what some church members use when they give their talks. In order to use talktrine, you don't generally read scriptures, you quote them...from memory...or at least you quote what you think you remember them being. You may also use any bit of Mormon heresy that you think you might have heard in some devotional/fireside from someone who may have been a general authority. As long as it sounds good and righteous, it must be right, right? Right. You don't have sources, unless it's the Ensign, and even then it has to be something that you remember reading a long time ago. Personal stories of how you may or may not have been saved at one time by the Three Nephites are encouraged, and use of poems, quotes, and stories out of non church-approved sources are common.

That being explained, today we heard how Ether saw the finger of Jesus, and how we could know who the next prophet was before he was called through revelation. Bet you didn't know that Joseph Smith prayed in the grove because he read, "ask and ye shall receive, knock and it shall be opened to you." The things I learn in church...

Ewwww...

Apparently, I look older than I thought I did.

To preface the story, my 17 year old sister, myself, and my dad all went to Wal-Mart last night to do a little Christmas shopping, and to pick up Napoleon Dynamite for me.

Then today, my dad was at the UPS store today fixing their copier, and one of the ladies who works there came up to him and said, "I saw you and your wife at Wal-Mart last night." My dad, realizing that she was talking about me says, "Oh, that wasn't my wife."

Not the best thing to say.

Suddenly, I become Novel Concept the kidnapper, and the adulteress...WITH MY DAD!!! EWWWWWWWW!!!!!! (Can you feel the disgust???) Eventually, my dad understands what this woman is thinking, and he made sure to clarify that he was there with his two DAUGHTERS, and no one else.

*shudder*

High School

So I went back to High School today...

I got to see my teachers from a few years ago, and surprisingly, they actually seemed glad to see me. 'Twas fun. As I walked around the school without a hall pass, I felt that I had managed to graduate from more than just high school...I had managed to rise above their rules as well. I was now at an institution where I can decide all my own classes, and then I can decide whether or not I even want to go to them. I felt so independent and adult for a minute...and then I had to call my mom to come and pick me up because I don't have a car...

Independence crushed.

While my mom and I were driving down the road to get home after stopping off at the Red Cross, these guys in an awnings installation truck started waving at us. We laughed and waved back, and then continued driving down the road. they sped up to catch up to where we were again, and then waved while showing a cell phone at the window. We drive away again, laughing, until there's a phone call on my mom's cell phone. Guess who? Yeah...the guys in the truck. Scary, until my mom realizes that she knows one of them. Turns out that after they had started waving and looking silly he'd looked over and realized he knew my mom, and then they decided to have fun with us both. Guess that's what happens when your mom looks like she could be your sister...for real, because they certainly weren’t winking at the passenger.

And I think to Myself...

I woke up this morning on the overstuffed couch in our living room to being warm under my fleece blankets, seeing a fire dancing merrily in the hearth, a touch of frost on the windows and a new layer of snow outside on everything outside. What a contrast to the last time I went to sleep...It's good to be home. My mom and I are heading out to lunch right now. Christmas stuff goes up tonight ('cause they all waited for me to get home so we could do it as a family :D)

"And I think to myself, what a wonderful world..."

Novel Concept the Kidnapper

I've had many titles in my life, but kidnapper hasn't ever been one of them...until my trip home for Christmas.

So I'm with Fractile and Phoenix (pronounced pah-hoe-nix) sojourning up to Salt Lake to go to the airport. Phoenix and I drop off Fractile, and then we head for some milk shakes and sustenance at a local Burger King. Everything goes off without a hitch, and I get to the airport, check in on time, and head through security. I happened to run into one of Songs of Inexperience's roommates, and we made sure to explain to her brother exactly what the Board was. Then I headed to my gate, and sat down with a little Wodehouse at the grand recommendation of Aunt Dahlia. I board the plane, and sit in my seat and wait....and wait....and wait...I felt kind of like one of the pioneer children minus all the walking.

First the plane's engine was apparently leaking something, and so they had to fix that. Then they fixed that, and something was wrong with the hydraulics. THEN everything mechanically wrong with the plane got fixed, and we got in line to take off. We're about an hour late by this time already, and finally we get our turn to take off. The engines rev, and we start to speed up, and then...we stop. The pilot comes over the intercom to say, "You may have noticed that we stopped. We're sorry, but it seems that another plane needs to use our airspace to land right now, so we're going to have to go around and get back in line." Finally, two hours after our initial take off time, we're on our way in the air, and I'm asleep. We land in Atlanta around 9:50 in terminal T. My connecting flight home leaves at 9:53 in terminal D. Now, 9:50 is when we landed, not when we finally got to the gate. Basically, by the time I got off of my plane and started heading towards D terminal, I've missed my flight by about 10 minutes. Sad day. I talk to the agent and get a $7.00 meal voucher, a hotel voucher, and a flight on the first plane the next morning.

Do I go to the hotel? Of course not! After all, I had just finished watching The Terminal, and I was prepared to figure out my own survival in this Atlanta airport. Now, had I taken a trip to the hotel, there'd be no really good story to tell. I likely would have been asleep by midnight, and then gone to the airport the next morning without further ado. Where would be the fun in that? (*Searches for fun...doesn't find any) So I wander the airport, suddenly very grateful for the fact that Phoenix suggested lunch, because those peanuts where just not doing it for me. I decide to start looking for a place to eat, but for some reason, everything is closed, even though it's only about 10:45. I end up saving my meal voucher for the promise of breakfast the next morning, and buying some pizza flavored cheese filled pretzels (combos?). Mmmm...Now there's a dinner for champions. I walk back to the terminal that I'll eventually be flying out of the next morning, and sit down with a paper and pen for a letter, and eventually for some more Wodehouse.

A lady eventually comes up looking very, very flustered. We talk for a little while, and I find out that she's missed her flight because she didn't quite understand how the Atlanta airport worked. Her name was Gina, and she was with her 4 year-old grandson named CJ. We talk for a little while, and discover we're both LDS. Well, I guess I discovered she was, and she discovered I was, because I was certainly previously aware that I was LDS. Anyway, after observing her harried state, I offered to go and play with CJ for a little while so that she could get some rest. She hesitated for just a second, and then she said that it would be fine. CJ and I headed off for the train/tram sort of things that run from concourse to concourse. We rode from D to A, and then back, and were gone for probably not more than 30 minutes. We get back to the terminal where Gina is supposed to be, and she's not there. CJ and I decide to do foot races back and forth in front of the terminal while we wait for her to return. About 10 minutes later, she comes, and she's crying. Apparently, while we were gone, she had calculated me to be a kidnapper, and she had gone to find us. Upon not finding us at the end of the D concourse, she reported my child-thieving activities to the airport security, and then run back to see if perhaps we had come back. Myself, not being a child-thief, had in fact, come back, and she was so relieved to see us both that she bought CJ an ice cream sandwich right then and there.

After the dramatics, I thought the evening would quiet down a little. It was, by this time, about 1:45 in the morning, and there were only about 7 hours until our flight finally took off. Enter the military man with the mouth of a sailor. He was a nice guy, but he had opinions on everything, and he felt that all should hear them. He said some pretty amusing things, though none of them are quite fit to put here. CJ too said some interesting things as the night went on. First, when discussing the fact that it's bad to be a bad person, CJ says, "Bad people go to live with the devil, and he lives where it burns and it's hot, almost as bad as California!" Who knew that California was hotter than the infernal regions? Next, while picking his nose, "I'm just getting all the boogers out of my nose here." Thank you CJ. I also managed to get looked at by all of the security guards like I was a kidnapper as I walked around the D concourse. I just smiled and waved in what I'm sure they felt was a guilty manner. Alas, such is life.

Finally around 2:00 I managed to fall asleep. I woke up every hour, until about 5:00, when I decided that it was really kind of a fruitless endeavor. I got myself some more Burger King with my special little meal voucher, finished and sent off my letter, and then I sat and waited to board. CJ wanted to play hide and seek, and I wanted to sleep, we compromised by throwing paper airplanes. Finally I got on my plane, after Gina and CJ hurried on because, as CJ said, "We don't want it to leave us again!" I settled down in my seat, asked for some orange juice, and fell asleep before she managed to bring it. I woke up at one point, sipped some, and then fell asleep again. By the time I woke up the next time we were making our final descent into my destination. I was welcomed by my wonderful family, who had even made signs that said, "Welcome Home [Novel's real name]l!" It was a wonderful sight, and it's so good to be home, especially after that particular airport adventure.

At least I got Blood...

I got my blood donor card awhile ago, and it told me my blood type.

During this time of finals, I'm thankful for that card. At least it tells me I'll always be an A+ SOMETHING...

Merry Christmas, y'all.

Fun with Physics Final

So I took a weather final today, and the last two questions were more giveaway questions than anything else. Observe:

There are a wide range of backgrounds and future career paths represented in this class. Each of you also had your own reason for taking this class (even if it is just to fill the GE natural science credits). Comment on how the material covered in this class might help you in your future career path or in your hobbies and other activities.

I like to know random facts-this class should help at the next dinner where my brother asks why the sky is blue. I can look him confidently in the eye and unabashedly state: "because the grass took green." Just kidding. I'd of course mention Raleigh scattering (blah blah blah)...

Develop a global climate model for the earth. Test that model by using data from 1800 (using whatever source you have available at your desk) to start the model and see if it gives the correct results for the year 2001. Then carry that model forward to the year 2100. Comment on how your results will affect the economy of Liechtenstein. You may use a hand calculator if you desire.

The economy of Liechtenstein is based solely on the fact that it pays reparations to the country of Spain in order to remain an autonomous state. According to my greatXn^6 Aunt Bermuda's big toe, sometimes in 1800, it rained. Clearly this holds true today, as in 2001, according to my big toe with I clearly inherited from her, it also rains. Using this amazing forecasting ability, I predict that in 2100, it may still also rain. As Spaniards are quite fond of bull runs, this will obviously cause some distress for little Liechtenstein when the Spaniard’s Prize Bulls slip due to the mud from the rain, break their legs, and place the Spanish Royalty in a bit of a foul temper. Reparations will obviously be demanded from Liechtenstein on the basis that 90% of their energy comes from nuclear plants, and those cooling towers clearly caused the clouds that made the rain that broke the bulls (that lived in the house that Juan built...). That, and the country of Spain is bigger...so there. This added stress on the economy will likely result in a "Purple Tuesday" (as the USA already used "Black Friday") and Liechtenstein will be forced to give up its autonomy and again become part of Spain.

Let's just hope that my teacher has a similar sense of humor as I do...

Grey Day?

I just got back from seeing a really great movie, and I still feel kind of empty right now. I even had a really good day. I got a final taken care of, I worked on a project, and I even managed to have some fun while doing it. AND I got to see some friends tonight...and still, I'm just kind of grey inside. Guess maybe it's just time for sleep, and for Christmas. I'm looking forward to some of that Holiday Cheer right now.

Novel Concept the Grey, signing off...

Everyone Wants to Kiss a European

"Seriously! Everyone wants to kiss a European, I'm talking to guys and they're like, 'oh...you're European??' I mean, I know I'm hot, but come on!"

I was chuckling to myself at this overheard conversation while walking up the stairs to the textbook section of the bookstore today. Apparently, this was too much for my capacity at that particular moment. I had, until that point, managed to walk, and chew gum at the same time, but adding in thinking was far too great a challenge for me. I tripped on about the 4th stair, and in an effort to catch myself, I ended up scrambling the rest of the way up on all fours. Yeah, that's right: hand, over hand, with feet following. The effect was much like unto Gollum as he climbs the rocks to get the Ring. It was highly amusing. The poor guy behind me probably thought I was insane...sadly, he probably isn’t too far from the truth.

I am an Idiot.

My bike has been parked down by the RB for about a month now, and today, I decided it was about time that I go and get it.

After my singular morning class, I walk down the steps by the RB (yeah, the really, really long ones) and I walk by the bike rack. Sitting there, covered in frost, is my bike.

Now, this bike and I are relatively new acquaintances. We became friends this summer when I decided that, after finally getting my license, I needed some mode of transportation. "A car!" You suggest merrily? Nope, not for me. My ride needs only two wheels.

So down to Wal-Mart I go. I ride the bus there, and then begin to look for a bike. Not a really fancy one, just something for around town, and I see it: The Roadmaster. My secret desires to have the same title send me towards its shiny blue frame, its black rubbery wheels...and its 60 dollar price tag. I knew we were meant to be. After purchasing the bike, I take it out for a little test drive in the parking lot, and then towards the bus. I waited for a grand total of about 5 minutes before I decided I could probably get home faster myself. I rode up the large hill...painfully out of breath, and stopped at the top, deciding that perhaps I couldn't make it home after all. I waited another 5 minutes, and looked up a street to see the mall at the end. "Ooh!" Thought I, "I can go and show off my new wheels!" So I headed up the road and down State Street to show off my ride. Once at my friend's place of employment, I showed him my bike. He gave the appropriate ooos and ahhs and then went back to work. Me, I headed for the Timpanogos Transit Station.

While on my way I discovered a bike path. I decided to follow it for as long as it might go. Turns out my friend had been trying to tell me about it, but I hadn't quite caught on. It also turns out that the path led all the way back to Provo. My bike and I were home.

Since we've become acquainted, my bike and I have made many a trip; up Provo Canyon to see Bridal Veil Falls and have a picnic, around Provo to do fun little errands, to class on occasion. The trip prior to today's left it at the RB.

And now we're finally back where the story was supposed to go.

So I start riding, and I'm trying to figure out the best way to get back up on campus. I decide that riding up a big hill seems like an awfully big hassle, so I'll just carry my bike up the stairs.

Stupid...stupid...stupid...

I get about halfway up them when I realize that I am very tired, and really starting to feel the friendship with my bike start to wane. I look behind me and I see a guy walking up the stairs, and I think, "Uh oh, what if he asks to help me?" So what do I do? Walk faster up the stairs of course! I get to the top with my bike, completely out of breath, hot, tired, and disheartened as I realize that I've still got to get home.

Why am I so dumb? There is a good chance that this guy wouldn't have even asked to help, and I still hurried up the stairs just in case. As I continued to walk home, I started pondering on why I can't let people help me. It just seems to be something that I'm not good at. I love to serve, I love to help other people, I love the happy feelings I get from knowing I did help someone. When it comes to letting other people get the same happy feelings from me though, I fight it. It's not that I don't want them to be happy, it's just that I fight against the idea that its ok to have people help you even when you can do something yourself.

*Sigh* Here’s to hoping I start learning a lot of lessons better, sooner.

Gee, He Must be a Fungi...

I just got back from lunch where I heard a young man attempt to woo a young lady. Is this a new theme at BYU? Not a chance. The novelty in it came in the subject matter that he was trying to woo her with. Mushrooms. Yes, that's right, mushrooms.

Now, I'm a pretty open minded person, but I can't really see how it is that someone could want to use mushrooms as their topic of romantic conversation. "And in our next episode, we'll explore as Derek brings himself closer to Anna by relating the awe-inspiring story of how he overcame his dislike of mushrooms." Probably not 60 Minutes material. Some of the actual conversation went like this:

"Yeah, I used to hate everything thinkable about mushrooms. I mean, they grow on dead things!"
"Really?"
"Uh huh. I made a choice when I came out to BYU that I would like mushrooms though, and so I worked so that I could do that."
"Wow, that's great."
"Yeah, I started out trying to eat them with chicken. Eventually I got to the point where I liked them. It's a good thing too, because they're so healthy for you."

And on it went. I was highly amused, because it seemed to be working! I decided to test out my own powers of mushroom conversation at the next meal, and it worked as well. Who knew that mushrooms could spurr such conversation. I still don't recomend them for wooing purposes, but the basic conversation effectiveness stands. Go ahead, try it. Pretty soon all the world will be convinced that you too are a fungi...

Johanna and Thanksgiving

I got the opportunity to spend this Thanksgiving with the one and only Johanna Von Bigenstrein, the Hairy Pirate Piece of Toast. For purposes of typing, she will be known hereafter as Johanna.

The trip started out early Wednesday morning, and by early, I mean that it started out around 11:00, which is when I finally dragged myself out of bed. Lazy? Possibly. More like I didn't bother to go to bed until earlier that morning. We packed our belongings, and then we headed for TRAX via the 811.

Now, Johanna is a Pirate, as clearly stated by her name, and so I wasn't worried about too much. I figured there couldn't have been a safer way to sail the highway 15 on the 811. I mean, who wouldn't want to travel with a pirate? All travel went without a hitch and we ended up at the University of Utah. "Enemy territory" says I, "A good day for bein' thankful" says she. Seems the spirit of thanksgiving had managed to temper even her temper, and though we were "impressed" by a young Ute on a skateboard, the trip down to Salt Lake managed to go off without a hitch.

Johanna's grandpa came and picked us up. We traversed (drove) the rocky terrain up to the tops of the mountains to their house, where we received a welcome to a port as warm and friendly as any I had known. Some highlights from the trip:

Thanksgiving Dinner
Definitely one of the highlights of the whole trip. Snippets of conversation went as follows:

Johanna's grandma: "Didn't the turkeys migrate over from Africa?"
Johanna's grandpa: "No, that's the black people."
(stunned silence falls over the table for a second, and giggles begin to be heard)
Johanna's grandpa: "What? I didn't mean for it to sound bad!"

Johanna's great aunt: "She was so popular she arranged to have three funerals. So they took her to the Great Salt Lake one last time."
Johanna's grandpa: "After she was dead?"
Johanna's great aunt: "No! Of course not! They shipped her out after she died so that she could have a funeral here."
Johanna's grandma: "I think you been reading things."

The Next Morning (Black Friday)
Johanna's grandpa decided that we needed new shoes. Yeah, even me. Seems I'd been adopted into this family and was entitled to the same benefits. The following happened while looking at various sales.

Johanna's grandpa: "Well, now Sears has a good sale."
Johanna's grandma: "Young girls don't shop at Sears; take them to Mervyns or something."
Johanna's grandpa: "What do you mean they don't shop at Sears? All my Latino friends shop at Sears."

Later, while driving through a cemetery:

Johanna's grandpa: "Johanna, your uncle said that he sees deer here all the time."
Johanna: "aye?"
Johanna's grandpa: "Yeah, a buck and his whole harem."

Who knew? I think I probably learned as much from this single week as I have in the rest of the semester in some of my classes. Later on we managed to round up a friend and do some exploring of SLC. The library there-great fun. Also, a good place to check the Board when the place you're staying has no computer with Board access. :D The trip home was equally uneventful, and it had better music. All in all, a thanksgiving worth being thankful for. Thanks be to the best piratess I know fer her kindly hospitality whilst my own family sailed for the capital. Yar.

Secret Assasins

I believe I have recently been the victim of an assassination attempt gone (thankfully) wrong. After an entire school year of safety, my large florescent light decided to turn on me for no good reason at all.

This is my story:

I'm sleeping, which seems lately to be a rare enough thing in and of itself, and I'm having a dream. I'm not exactly sure why, but at one point in the dream, I'm opening up some Tupperware. Exactly at the point where I should have heard the lid open, I hear instead a terrible crash and clattering. Knowing that it's far too early for Santa, I sit up confused and look about my room. I find that the large florescent light cover that had been previously affixed sturdily over my light has somehow been knocked loose and fallen at an angle clearly designed to try and kill me. Can I help but suspect foul play? I think not. Relieved at the obvious failure, I decide to inspect the damage in the morning, and snuggle sleepily back into my pillow.

As I inspected the damage the next morning, I found it'd been worse than I thought it would be. Shards of plastic lay strewn about my desk, my monitor bore its own battle wound, and a key on my keyboard had been unceremoniously ripped from its rightful placement. I don't know what kind of fiend could have been so truly nefarious as to cause such things, but this much I know...

I'll be sleeping with one eye open from now on.

On the Street Where You Live...or I Do

I've decided that living where I do might be bad for my pride. I often find myself walking around feeling superior for no good reason at all. I'm likely not smarter than those around me, I'm not better looking, and I'm certainly not a greater person. And yet, I find myself having to actually remind myself of these things on occasion as I meander through the neighborhood. Some guy starts talking to his buddies about his date, or about a 'hot girl' that he plans on picking up on over the weekend, and I just want to look at the kid, shake my head, and tell him that everything will someday be better. Maybe if he grows up a little, he can get married or something. A group of girls giggles over some guy and starts plotting on how to make him theirs, and I want to stand up and fight against evil in the world and the games we play with each others heads. I've begun to realize the startling possibility that I may very well be subconsciously self-righteous. This is all very amusing, because I feel entirely inadequate at times. The even funnier thing (I bet you're rolling on the ground by now) is that I switch between these two feelings at the speed of girl's emotions...in case you're unfamiliar, that's extremely fast. Alas. Perhaps one day I'll find a nice spot of emotion to graze on...a bright sunny spot where I realize I can be better, and I work to become so, but I'm not so stinking stuck on my supposed superiority.

Wow, This is really...pink

I'm not sure why this thing is so pink, I'm really not much of a pink girl. Does that make sense? Let me explain. No, there is too much, let me sum up. There are many types of girls in this world, and they fall into multiple categories. Some girls, they're just pink. It's not a bad thing, it's just the truth. These are the hair and make-up everyday, really nice clothes, shop for the fun of it kinds of girls. Again, not bad things (yeah, it sounds like I'm calling pink girls things, and *that's* not judgmental. Curse my dangling participles!), just not me. Welcome to the ramblings...