Everlasting Goldfishers

I seem to have had incredible luck with certain things that many people can't help but kill--plants...relationships...and recently, goldfish.

I got back to my room today after being gone for about 10 days. Before leaving, I fished a goldfish out of a toilet on one of the other floors. We're technically just supposed to flush them...but he was so cute and, well, shiny, that I decided he deserved a fighting chance. I filled up a bowl that I have with clean water, stuck some marbles in the bottom, grabbed a few baby spider plants off a plant that I got from my best friend's mom...you know, for oxygen! I then crumbled up a few pieces of stale cheerio into the bottom, and wished the fish a happy life, and a Merry Christmas.

I walked into my room fully expecting him to be dead in the bowl. Sad as it might be, I could at least feel alright flushing a dead fish...I mean, at least he wasn't alive, right? Well, my little fishy friend was and is alive as ever. He was stuck in a bowl with less than half the water that I originally put in there, and no more cheerio, but he's alive and kickin'.

That's where my story continues. The thing is, all the fish I've ever had are hearty fish. I went to a fair with a guy named Alex when I was living in California, and we managed to win one of those silly little goldfish from the game where you have to toss a ping pong ball into the fish bowl. Well, that fish lived in my house for about 5 months, and then we had to move, so I gave the fish to his little sister. I talked to her again about a year later, and the fish was still alive..swimming in the fish tank with all her other fish, just as not-dead as ever.

Last year, I swiped a fish from the big dance they do here. They put them on the tables, and then they just flush them all afterwards, so I decided just to take one. I took the whole little bowl, snuck it home, transplanted the fish into a cup of my own, and then returned the rest of the stuff to where I'd gotten it...just sans fish. This fish lived in the office of our building, and bore the name of the general manager of housing for our area...after all, you can't flush the manager, right? After a little while, my Hall Advisor said we should probably get rid of it, and she gave it to a brother nearby. At last word, which was about 7-9 months later, that fish too was also alive and kickin'.

So now I've created a problem for myself. Not only did the fish live, now I'm attached. He's managed to survive 10 days on his own in a little bowl in my room with nothing but plants for oxygen and stale cheerio for food, and he survived for a few days in a Dorm Toilet. Can I really just end this guy's life with a singular non-caring trip down the porcelain basin?

I just don't think I have it in me. If you want a fish, let me know, this one is apparently hearty.

"...Be Good, for Goodness' Sake..."

I've been listening to about a hundred different singers sing the same songs at work lately. I've been picking out my favorites--like the Boy Band that sang the whole of Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer as a ballad...or the song that's chorus goes, "Mamacita, donde esta Santa Claus, it's Christmas Eve." and has a section where Santa cheers on reindeer like Pedro, and says, "Ole! Ole! Ole!" instead of "Ho! Ho! Ho!" So funny, I laugh every single time.

Anyway. Santa Claus is coming to town plays at least twice an hour, and I always listen to the words. First, because they're vaguely stalker-esque (he sees you when you're sleeping, he knows if you're awake...creepy.), but the phrase that struck me in particular was the phrase, "He knows if you've been bad or good, so be good, for goodness sake."

What an interesting concept. Being good, solely for the sake of goodness...Now, the song isn't about that at all. It's about being good so that you get presents and not coal, but it brings up an interesting idea, even unintentionally. Being good just because it's good, and not because you're afraid of consequences--immediate or long term, but just because it's good to be good. Someday I'll get there...and do the right things simply because they are just that--the right things. Not because they're a more appealing option in the long run, or because they're just what I'm supposed to do, but because they're good...

Oh for goodness sake... :D

Merry Christmas everyone, and Happy New Year too, in case I don't write anything on here in the meantime. I've got a lot of stuff to get done, and only about a week at home with my family before some of us move out to Utah, to be followed later by the rest. Merry Christmas to all, Happy Holidays to the rest, and to all, a very good night.

A Beautiful Mind?

I'm taking a quick break from all my studying to let the world know that I still exist, and that I haven't forgotten that they too exist.

I'm sitting next to my window, which moments ago was covered with a physics problem that I'd worked out on it. I came up with the idea earlier today because I have to be on duty tonight, and it's been the best way I've ever done my homework. Right now, I'm looking forward to my classes next semester, because I can do more of my homework this way...It's gonna be amazing.

Anyway, I'm also laughing at the way I look today. Took a shower, and didn't do anything to my hair, which means it's down, for once. That honestly almost never happens. I'm also wearing glasses, because I can't remember the last time that I took my contacts out, and they were kind of glued to my eyeballs this morning. Needless to say, it's about time I got some new ones.

Anyway, back into my world of numbers and letters...And then onto Argentina. I'm doing all kinds of traveling in this little imaginative world of mine. Let's just hope that when Finals Week is over and done, I don't emerge with friends from those places that no one else can see....

Chronicles of Narnia

The movie was truly amazing, I highly reccomend it, and I won't go into it in too great of detail now, because I don't want you to get your hopes up too high and then see it and be dissapointed. Just know that I, Novel Concept, found it entirely worth my $8.25 to see it at 12:15 this morning...it was really really good.

I also really love the books. I'm not feeling particularly eloquent at the moment...though that could have a great something to do with the lateness of the hour. Regardless, C.S. Lewis is an incredible author, and I should probably try and get into one of the classes about him sometime whilest at BYU.

Happy Finals Everyone.

The Dante's Inferno Test has sent you to Purgatory!
Here is how you matched up against all the levels:

Level	Score
Purgatory (Repenting Believers)	Extreme
Level 1 - Limbo (Virtuous Non-Believers)	High
Level 2 (Lustful)	Very Low
Level 3 (Gluttonous)	Low
Level 4 (Prodigal and Avaricious)	Very Low
Level 5 (Wrathful and Gloomy)	Very Low
Level 6 - The City of Dis (Heretics)	Very Low
Level 7 (Violent)	Very Low
Level 8- the Malebolge (Fraudulent, Malicious, Panderers)	Low
Level 9 - Cocytus (Treacherous)	Very Low

Take the Dante's Inferno Hell Test

Happy Thanksgiving!

You know what? I really am very thankful for everything I've got. The other day (today in fact) I was walking around campus singing that song from Mr. Holland's Opus (and other things...I just haven't seen them)

I've got daisies in green pastures, I've got my man, who could ask for anything more?

I've even got the more, and life is just plain great. I've been in an amazing mood, and I really don't know that I could ask for anything more.

Hope your turkey is good, and your blessing counting goes even better.

"I'm Glad You're Here!"

Hey Everyone!

Wisdom teeth surgery went well...really well in fact, and I have no complaints. I'm not swollen much anymore...I didn't swell much in the first place, and apart from being tired, I'm back to regular old me. Maybe even better.

For some reason, I feel more like myself in the past couple of days than I have in a little bit of awhile--I feel just plain happy. I have friends and family who love me, I have people who care about me, and I just saved 120% on my wisdom tooth extraction!

I think part of it comes from a general change of attitude that has accompanied my new job at Brick Oven--I work there and as an RA still, and despite the lack of sleep that working full time while going to school full time facilitates, I feel happier. I'm more financially secure, and that's always a good feeling, and work is also pretty fun. I just work the salad bar, but I really do enjoy it. It goes by pretty quickly, and it's not bad work.

Something else about work is interesting, and I thought that I would dislike it--it's a rule that you're supposed to smile. At first, the sassy little inner voice that I posses wanted to revolt against this particular rule, thinking things like, "yeah, whatever. I'll smile if I feel like smiling." (insert sassy head wiggle here). The more intelligent and socially conscious part of me agreed to the rule, and so I walked around work the first night smiling, while wearing a nametag that tells everyone that I'm glad that they chose to frequent Brick Oven that evening.

The odd thing about it is this. Wearing that nametag, and forcing myself to smile in the beginning eventually makes it so that I genuinely feel like smiling a little while later. I feel more like I'm serving people, and that they probably appreciate having a clean, well-stocked salad bar to come to. I end up feeling, in fact, that I really am glad that they chose to come to Brick Oven that night.

I've started to try the same approach in some of my other areas of life. When doing thing as an RA, I try to look at what I'm doing as service, and realize, that though no one might say anything, I bet they really do appreciate it. When I'm doing my schoolwork, I try to think of things as a service both to myself, and to my teachers, who likely appreciate not having to grade terrible papers, and would rather look at good ones.

It's been great! I'm excited about my school stuff again, I'm not feeling nearly as burned out, and I don't really want to just drop out of school and start trying my backup plans. I'm getting excited about applying for my major in January, I'm looking forward to more school and eventually even to graduation, and I'm feeling happier with myself and what I'm doing than I have in a little while.

It's marvelous folks, what a little dose of pretended happiness and excitement can do--try it, if you're clever enough, or a good enough actor/actress, maybe you'll even manage to fool yourself.

Wisdom Teeth

I go in tomorrow to get my wisdom teeth taken out, and then I take an experimental drug afterwards...or no drug at all...for about 24 hours. In return for this, I will get the knowledge that I have no wisdom teeth, and $160...I also don't pay a penny for them...other than the money I've already paid in bus fares.

I've realized my own humanity, in part...and in so realizing it, and the possibility(however small) that something could go wrong, and I could end up not only losing my wisdom teeth, but also my mental faculties...I figure I should make a will now, whilst I am still of 'sound mind' (guess everything really is relative).

To the RA's which I am pleased to work with--I give you my ID card, the powers of my Dining Plus, and the paycheck that should be coming from my second job in about two weeks--just pretend that I'm not gone...I'm sure no one will ever pick up on it.

To the Writers of the Board--You can have any aliases or reputation I might have acquired in the internet world...though that's not much. You're also welcome to my two assigned questions right now--I'd love for you to explain copyright laws and the history of the Oklahoma Sooners... ;)

To my Friends--You're welcome to take some of my other stuff--books, future road trips, good meals, etc. You just can't have my pillows...those are for Wafflewitz and LEB. I think Uffish gets my music collection too, all 17.5 gigs of it.

To My Best Friend--You can have all the pictures, and everything that the pictures might remind you of...you can also have the promise that I'll try not to be too drooling of an idiot...

To My Family...I think if I lost ALL my mental faculties, you'd be saddled with the burden of taking care of me...I probably should figure out some way to compensate you for that--I'll work on that.

Anyway...here's to free Wisdom Tooth Extraction, and the hope that I don't actually end up losing anything besides teeth. If I do...here's to hoping that someone else benefits from it :)

The Perils of Having No Doorstep

Let me explain the setting to you. See, I live in DT. We have elevators in our buildings, and in my particular building, there is one elevator that shows no mercy. The doors close and they sensor doesn't pick up the fact that there's someone in it, well...at least not until the doors are pushing on something in the middle and finally open up. There's a couple who were saying goodnight. She's standing in the elevator, and he's standing right outside of it.

I'm sitting in the office reading my book, and the curtains are drawn, this is so that I don't watch these scenes, because they make us all equally uncomfortable. I can't help but listen to their conversation though.

"Well...call me tomorrow, ok?"
"Yeah. Love you."

These sentiments are followed by a few smacking noises...actually, it was about 6--I counted after a little while. Suddenly, I hear the elevator doors closing with their usual avengence. I'm assuming this is because she's stepped inside the elevator....

You know what happens when you assume...

Anyway, Suddenly I hear her say "Ouch!" and he clamors saying, "Oh my goodness! Are you ok?"

Apparently, they'd been having a longer, less smacking goodnight kiss, I'm assuming their eyes were closed, and the elevator doors had closed on her. Finally, they actually parted, after getting over the shock of having their kiss cut short by the elevator. I sat in the office trying my hardest not to laugh out loud, as the glass on that window is not very thick, and they would have been completely embarassed.

I've decided to nickname the elevator though. I think it should become the Chastity 2000.

Holy Moley!

Friends, Neighbors, Romans, Countrymen, and Fellow Science Friends, and especially our Dear Avagadro

Stop the Clock: it's MOLE DAY!

Yes friends, that's right! Today, October 23, (or 10/23) is our very favorite atomic buddy's very own day. Hope you all celebrated in one way or another.

Happy Mole Day!!

Funny Mental Connections

Today I went with Uffish to her favorite little used book store--it's a lot of fun. I love the smell of old books, and new books, and all those sorts of things, so it was a pleasant visit for me. The smell and all the stacks remind me of home, and unpacking. My mom has tons of books. I haven't read them all, but I'm almost certain that she has. The smell makes me feel at home.

Another funny thing, they were playing this great Jazz music that was kind of slow and it made me want to dance. Not dance all by myself, but to sway quietly with someone else. Maybe I've just had dancing on my mind lately. In my Argentine history class we've been studying the Tango and it's cultural significance. We've been watching different people who do the tango, and it's such a passionate dance, and so full of life and expression--it makes me wish I actually knew how to dance with some real steps. Guess it's another thing to add to the "To-Do" list...eventually.

You Know You're Alone on a Friday When...

So it's Friday night, and I'm sitting in my wonderfully decorated room again, all by my lonesome, and it's just past 11:00. I've contemplated these times in the past little while, and I've compiled a list:

You Know You're Alone on a Friday When

• Well, you are all by yourself and it happens to be Friday.
• You think about what to do with the rest of your evening, and you decide that a rousing game of solitaire sounds like a rollicking romp through the lands of fun and enchantment
• You begin to wonder how you could create some "intoxicating verbal shimmer"
• You realize that if you go out and "pitch some woo" or even "make some hay" it might remedy your current financial situation, as long as you get your very own tower and a little Rumplestiltskin.
• You listen to your playlist that's entitled "Upbeat Love Stuffs"
• You invite girls on your floor to watch the movie "Girls Just Want to Have Fun" that you recently acquired for a whopping $2.50.
• You are 20 years old and an RA and live in DT, and therefore have the ability to have girls on your floor...but very little other social life.
  

You Realize You're Completely Alright With it When:

• You refuse trips to Park City so that you can spend some of the evening alone--quiet time...what a rarity in college!
• You win your first game of solitaire, and therefore feel no need to play any others--you're already a winner!
• You've learned to make money stretch, and you've decided that you're going to get your wisdom teeth extracted for free, and then you're going to get paid $150 to participate in an after surgery pain medication study...who needs to pitch woo?
• You sing along with every single one of the songs on your playlist, while using the dance moves you just acquired while watching "Girls Just Want to Have Fun"
• You really do enjoy the company of the girls on your floor, and you're glad that you're an RA--it's a pretty sweet deal.

Sounds like a pretty good place to be to me. Happy Friday All!

Sleep, It's After Dinner

You know what? According to the tracker thing I have on this blog, most people read it between about 3:00 and 4:00 in the morning--that's bad for you. As Uffish has been told, and restated: without sleep, you will die.

This is a lesson that I'm readily learning over, and over, and over...you get the picture. I can't understand why I've been an idiot for so long on this issue. Why don't I just go to bed at a reasonable hour?

When I first got to college, it was a matter of "feeling independent." I'd basically had a bedtime for most of my life. Up until the time I was 12, bedtime was about 7:30 or 8:00, except on nights where Ghostwriter was on, and then I was allowed to stay up until 8:30. When I turned 12, bedtime was moved to 9:00 in order to accomodate mutual on Wednesday nights. When I got into high school, I was generally in bed by about 11:00, and if I was ever up as late as 12:00 or 1:00 it was because I had a huge paper due the next day, or I had gotten caught up in reading a good book, and I just couldn't put it down. Those nights came about once a month...at the most. I get to college, and I've got classes later, (well, later than early morning seminary, which required us to leave the house by about 5:40), no one cares what time I go to bed, and my roommate stays up playing on her computer, talking to people etc. Suddenly, I'm a free and independant freshman, and even though I've got work in the morning at 5:00 cutting fruit, I'm going to show off how well I can survive by staying up until 3:00!

In the words of Napoleon Dynamite: "IDIOT!"

Last year I got to be a little better...a very little. I would be up until about 12:00 or 1:00 talking to friends on the internet, and depending on how those talks went, I'd do one of two things--option one would be to start my homework after I got off, option two would be to go on a night walk with some of those friends until about 3:00 in the morning, and then come home, crash, wake up late the next morning, do some homework, and then go to class.

Guys, this is also a stupid idea.

I got a little better with that even, in doing my homework while talking to friends, and getting more stuff accomplished--walking less around Provo with friends who needed to talk for one reason or another...all better ideas. Moderation is key. Towards the end of the year, I was even getting to bed by about 2:00 on a regular basis, and I was committed to doing better that summer. Afterall, don't people who live in apartments go to bed earlier? I mean, I was sure that staying up untill all sorts of odd hours was purely a result of living in the dorms...right?

Wrong.

I moved into an apartment with Uffish and my sister, and three other awesome roommates. For a few nights at the beginning I was doing really well with getting to bed earlier, and getting enough sleep before going to classes at 8:00 the next morning, and all that jazz. I did not, however, continue in this pattern. Both Uffish and our friend who was living with us in our room--all of us--we all stayed up until all kinds of odd hours of the night. A big difference between them and myself though, was that they didn't have 8:00 classes...again, another stupid move. Then I started working from 10:00 pm to 6:00 am on the weekends, and from 8:oo pm-12:00 am each weeknight, and I was working about 40 hours a week, and taking classes full-time, and not sleeping when I was at home because my roommates were such great fun.

This is also bad for you.

At the beginning of this semester, I was committed to going to bed on time, sleeping like I needed to, when I needed to, and then being nicer to my body in general. This year, was going to be my year. It all worked well and good for about 3 weeks--I was in bed by midnight, and then getting up for classes and not being too tired...it was great! Then I got a bunch of the other RA's addicted to 24...and we stayed up until about 1:00 (sometimes later) to watch them for awhile. Even though we're now finished with the first 4 seasons, I still find myself stuck in the bad habit of staying up too late for no real good reason.

I've decided this should change. I am now setting a bedtime for myself on the weekdays. I'd like it to be 11:00, but I think I'm going to have to start with 11:30, just so that I can be asleep by then. Hopefully, I'll work down from there. Notable exceptions include being on duty, which goes from 8:00-12:00. Weekends, I think I should try to be in bed by like...2:00 at the latest, at least on a regular basis. Hopefully, setting this goal for myself will equal greater health, happiness, and all that jazz. I just researched some sites about sleeping, and they tell me that I'm doing a good thing. Check it out

Basically--all you 3:00-4:00 people need to go to bed, there's nothing on my blog that you won't be able to read in the morning after you've gotten a good night's sleep, and you'll be able to sleep better anyway. I promise, it's better for you, and maybe even better for everyone else around you too...

Thanksgiving is a Holiday Too.

One of my sad pet peeves is the fact that, insofar as marketing goes, Thanksgiving is no longer a holiday. The stores are decorated with about 4 holidays. Starting in September it's Halloween, around the middle of October it becomes Christmas, halfway through January it's Valentines Day, and sometime mid-June it becomes The Fourth of July. Then the stores are decorated with a multitude of other things--back to school, 'hooray it's summer' and the like.

What's wrong with Thanksgiving?

I know, I know. It's a holiday to celebrate food and pilgrims and corn and the like...But it's also fundamentally about being grateful--can't we celebrate gratitude...Even just a little?

You know what else bugs me? Those creepy carolers in the display window of the BYU bookstore. Scary...That's what they are. No one's mouth should ever naturally go into the shape of a over-streched rubber-band and then remain in that position as their head rotates mechanically from left to right...right to left...On a timed metronomic schedule. Also, those giant Santa Claus figures that sing carols and dance around--those things creep me out. I can handle my dad's huge blow-up Frosty doll that sits about 8 feet tall on our front lawn...But moving carolers and Santa Claus' don't do it for me.

Hopefully Not The Case...

A seven-year-old boy was at the center of a Provo courtroom drama yesterday when he challenged a court ruling over who should have custody of him. The boy has a history of being beaten by his parents and the judge initially awarded custody to his aunt, in keeping with child custody law and regulations requiring that family unity be maintained to the degree possible. The boy surprised the court when he proclaimed that his aunt beat him more than his parents and he adamantly refused to live with her. When the judge then suggested that he live with his grandparents, the boy cried out that they also beat him. After considering the remainder of the immediate family and learning that domestic violence was apparently a way of life among them, the judge took the unprecedented step of allowing the boy to propose who should have custody of him. After two recesses to check legal references and confer with child welfare officials, the judge granted temporary custody to the BYU Cougars whom the judge firmly believes are not capable of beating anyone.

The Hills Are Alive

So, today I've got my hair looking something like a German Schoolgirl of sorts--all twisted around the sides and bottom, and I'm finding it highly amusing. With all the sunshine out right now, I feel as though I should be rnning through the mountains singing about how alive the hills are. I'll restrain myself for now, and just go about laughing at my own hair, and thinking how much more authentic I'd look if I managed to also get some ribbons, an aorpon, and a long skirt.

Ooh...it'd be even better if I got a ticket to Austria at the same time. That'd make it good and authentic.

(Disclaimer: I don't actually look anything like this lady...or her parrot.)

All-American Hero

Alright class, today we're going to learn about one of my favorite stories from WWI--especially since today is the 87th anniversary of it.

Once there was this rabble rouser who lived in the hills of Tennessee. Most people never thought that he'd amount to much, especially since most of what he caused was trouble, and most of what he did was non-productive. People shook their heads and sighed at the mess that this poor troubled youth was. This poor troubled youth named Alvin C. York.

This is the point where, if you knew who Alvin C. York was, you'd gasp and get really excited, because you knew what was coming next, and it was one of your favorite stories too...bet you a bag of marbles not one of you got excited. What? You're still not excited? *sigh*

Alvin changed his life around a bit, after the death of a friend, and joined a Christian denomination (the fundamentalist Church of Christ in Christian Union to be precise). He was their song leader and Sunday School Teacher. Yessir, things were finally looking to be right for our friend Alvin.

But then (dun DUN DUN!) came the outbreak of WWI. Alvin got his draft card in the mail shortly after the war broke out. He petitioned for "contientious objector" status, as his newfound faith was pacifist, but was denied his petition based on the fact that his church wasn't a recognized Christian denomination. He was offered non-combatant service, but refused and went into the army after being convinced that America had just cause to be fighting.

"On October 8, 1918, York and 15 other soldiers under the command of Sergeant Bernard Early were dispatched to seize a German-held rail point during the Allies' Meuse-Argonne Offensive. The Americans lost their way and soon found themselves behind enemy lines. A brief firefight ensued with a superior German force, and in the confusion a group of Germans surrendered. However, German machine-gunners on a hill overlooking the scene soon noticed the small size of Early's patrol. Yelling in German for their comrades to take cover, the machine gunners opened fire on the Americans, cutting down half the detachment, including Sergeant Early.York immediately returned fire and with his marksman eye began picking off the German gunners. He then fearlessly charged the machine-gun nest. Several of the other surviving Americans followed his lead and probably contributed to the final total of 25 enemies killed. With his automatic pistol, York shot down six German soldiers sent out of the trench to intercept him. The German commander, thinking he had underestimated the size of the American force, surrendered as York reached the machine-gun nest. York and the other seven survivors took custody of some 90 Germans and on the way back to the Allied lines encountered 40 or so other enemy troops, who were coerced to surrender by the German major that the Americans had in their custody. The final tally was 132 prisoners.

York was promoted to the rank of sergeant and hailed as the greatest civilian soldier of the war by several Allied leaders. He was given a hero's welcome upon his return to the United States in 1919 and was awarded the Congressional Medal of Honor, the nation's highest military decoration. In the 1920s, he used his fame to raise funds for the York Industrial Institute (now Alvin C. York Institute), a school for underprivileged children in rural Tennessee. He later opened a Bible school.

Sergeant York, the 1941 film starring Gary Cooper, was based on his life. York died in 1964."

That last part is from Historychannel.com--I don't know that I could have told it any clearer. I absolutely love the story. This guy that no one thought anything of, who wasn't exactly in a place where he felt comfortable and at ease, totally excelled because he put some effort into it.

Moral(s) of the day:

Make the best of your situation, and one person can make a difference.
AND
Learn to shoot guns when you're little in case you need to take out enemy soldiers with machine guns.

Canuk, eh?

Apparently, my keyboard is compatable with Canada, it says so on the back. It was also made in Thailand--who knew that Canada and Thailand were on good terms?

Bah To All Papers

You know what? Papers make me feel nostolgic and day-dreamy. I can't yet decide if this is a coping mechanism, another way to procrastinate, or just some sort of rare phenomenon. I start thinking of lots of other places I'd rather be at that moment--right now my particular fancy has been with the ocean--either the rocky shores of New England, where I've never honestly been, or to the foggy beaches of northern California. I don't feel like seeing the sunny warm beaches of Florida and Southern California. Sure, those things are really pretty...but for the past few months I've had a sort of quietly desperate desire to go to a beach that makes it seem like you'd be able to be secluded--all alone with you, the ocean, and maybe a someone. Not a people-infested beach that's crawling with half clad women. There was this one beach that my family always used to go to in California when we lived there. It's called Zmudowski, and it's huge and long, and usually windy. The perfect kind of beach for wearing a sweater to and just wading. Or, you can body surf...if you feel so inclined to do so. I loved it, and right now, I really want to go back there.

Maybe all this dreaming comes from the fact that many of my papers are written when I ought to be sleeping....

Guess it's time to go to laundry now...maybe THAT will get my paper done.

Coming to Peace With My Inner Hermit

I've come to terms with the fact that I have an inner hermit lately. There's a part of me, and probably most other people, that has no desire to communicate with other human beings on occasion. Generally, the very social aspect of me wins out, but it doesn't change the fact that there exists a small aspect of me that tends towards being anti-social.

(bad joke break: Why did McCarthy become a hermit? Because he was anti-socialist!)

Now, my inner hermit doesn't like the idea of total and complete isolation. I've come to the theory that there are about 4 different types of hermits.

First, there is the Hermit's hermit. This is the guy who lives on the 12 foot diameter sandbar in the middle of a lake in the middle of an island in the middle of an ocean. He (or she) likes his privacy, and ain't no one gonna take that away.

Second , There's the guy who buys the small farm out in the middle of the prairie. This hermit doesn't mind if there's the occasional passer-by, they just don't want any kind of close personal contact, and the regular contact they do have is not to be on a consistant basis.

Thirdly, there's the hermit who lives in the run-down house in the corner of a small house in a small town. Everyone knows who they are, but they talk to no one. The prefer the fame of being enigmatic to the company of others.

Lastly, there's the neighbor who loves to live in the middle of a huge city with tons of people around. There's a new sort of anonymity in crowds. Instead of the anonymity of desolation, you get the anonymity of population. There are so many people, that you're just a bit. This hermit doesn't know their neighbors, doesn't talk to people, but he still enjoys the company of large groups of people, just not any kind of intimate relationship.

Alright, that's all basically pointless, really, just some thoughts on hermits. I think my hermit would probably fall into the last category. The only time that I ever run into my inner hermit though, is when I'm suddenly thrown into a situation where I meet someone who was previously just an acquaintance and I have the option of just leaving them to their life, or trying to make friends with them. My social self says, "ooh! More friends!" My inner hermit says, "awww, come on...don't you have too much to do already? Can you handle more friends?"

At this point, I always beat down my inner hermit and make the friend, or at least try to be social. In talking to other people, I'm finding out that I'm not the only one with an inner hermit though--maybe everyone's inner hermits could get together sometime, if that wasn't such a contradiction of ideas.

My Dog Ate It...

These were some excuses for being late to work/missing work that were listed on an MSN article...Maybe I should try one of these the next time one of my papers is late. I especially think the "spit on by a venomous snake" is pretty hilarious.

I was sprayed by a skunk.

I tripped over my dog and was knocked unconscious.

My bus broke down and was held up by robbers.

I was arrested as a result of mistaken identity.

I forgot to come back to work after lunch.

I couldn't find my shoes.

I hurt myself bowling.

I was spit on by a venomous snake.

I totaled my wife's jeep in a collision with a cow.

A hitman was looking for me.

My curlers burned my hair and I had to go to the hairdresser.

I eloped.

My brain went to sleep and I couldn't wake it up.

My cat unplugged my alarm clock.

I had to be there for my husband's grand jury trial.

I had to ship my grandmother's bones to India.

I forgot what day of the week it was.

Someone slipped drugs in my drink last night.

A tree fell on my car.

My monkey died.

Bad Day...or Maybe Not

Alright, so Daniel Powter's song "Bad Day" has become one of my absolute favorites. These are the lyrics:

Where is the moment we needed the most
You kick up the leaves and the magic is lost
They tell me your blue skies fade to grey
They tell me your passion's gone away
And I don't need no carryin' on

You stand in the line just to hit a new low
You're faking a smile with the coffee to go
You tell me your life's been way off line
You're falling to pieces everytime
And I don't need no carryin' on

Cause you had a bad day
You're taking one down
You sing a sad song just to turn it around
You say you don't know
You tell me don't lie
You work at a smile and you go for a ride
You had a bad day
The camera don't lie
You're coming back down and you really don't mind
You had a bad day
You had a bad day

Well you need a blue sky holiday
The point is they laugh at what you say
And I don't need no carryin' on

You had a bad day
You're taking one down
You sing a sad song just to turn it around
You say you don't know
You tell me don't lie
You work at a smile and you go for a ride
You had a bad day
The camera don't lie
You're coming back down and you really don't mind
You had a bad day

(Oh.. Holiday..)

Sometimes the system goes on the blink
And the whole thing turns out wrong
You might not make it back and you know
That you could be well oh that strong
And I'm not wrong

So where is the passion when you need it the most
Oh you and I
You kick up the leaves and the magic is lost

Cause you had a bad day
You're taking one down
You sing a sad song just to turn it around
You say you don't know
You tell me don't lie
You work at a smile and you go for a ride
You had a bad day
You've seen what you like
And how does it feel for one more time
You had a bad day
You had a bad day

Had a bad day
Had a bad day
Had a bad day
Had a bad day
Had a bad day 

And you can listen to/see it here: Bad Day

I listen to this song about once a day. When I get home from an honestly bad day at school, or wherever, this song makes me feel more optimistic--like, "sure, you had a bad daytoday but it's just that a bad day. Life's gonna get better." When I've had a good day at school, I think I like this song just because of it's music video. Sort of a "You may have had a bad day, but today is not that day!"

Basically, I just really like it.

Possible Hilarity

What would happen if the Medieval Club moved to the Ghetto?

Sample conversation:

"Yo Artemis--what's up in the Kizzingdom?"
"Nothin' much Mercury, just slaying the Drizzagon."
"Huzzazle!"
"Yea Verily."

To the Rescue!

Your Superhero Profile

Your Superhero Name is The Scarlet Crystal Your Superpower is Invisibility Your Weakness is Toilet Paper Your Weapon is Your Particle Pistol Your Mode of Transportation is Boat

What's your Superhero Name?

Lack of Entitlements

Recently I've been trying to reshape my attitude about a few things. Most of these things involve the mistaken idea that I have that I'm somehow entitled to them, just by sake of being a good person.

See, I think that Fridays/the Weekends are my most common area of this sort of thing. The only other area that I can think of that I really do this is with naps. I seem to be under the false idea that because I live in America, and because I work pretty hard all week doing homework and the like, that I'm entitled to make Friday afternoons/evenings, and eventually the whole weekend, all mine. I think I get part of the idea because of the society that I've grown up in...but I've recently come to realize that I don't actually have any real entitlement to a weekend that I own all for myself--I don't work nearly hard enough that I really need that. I have classes during the week, but I don't actually DO anything that would be considered hard enough that I should feel irritation when asked to attend some church auxiliary programs--like choir. I shouldn't feel put out because I have to get up early on a Saturday morning because I'm going to a Relief Society Visiting Teaching activity--and I certainly shouldn't feel remotely pouty because I have to work on a Friday night. The truth is I should probably work harder on the days when no one is asking me to. I should be cleaner when no one is coming to visit, and I should be most productive when I have the time, and not when I've wasted it all in procrastinating.

I'm slow at this process...but I'm trying. I doubt that I'll ever perfect it--I might get better at lacking in procrastination, but I'll still probably feel slightly irritated when I have to do something on a Saturday, or when I have to work on a weekend. I'm working on it though--because I definitely don't feel like I've earned the right to feel entitled to those kinds of things yet.

Fascinated by the Fascinating

You know, I'm really interested in what exactly it is that people find fascinating or captivating. In fact, I'm fascinated by it. I'm probably one of the few people who studies history who finds the history of history (historiography for someone who'd like a few more cents in their word) almost as engaging as history itself. Why do people write about what they do? Why do we record some things, and decide that others are entirely irrelevant, and what is it about our memories that makes certain facts more important depending on the time? Why do certain things fascinate people, while other things seem almost universally unappealing? Why don't we have more histories of things like the footnote, or the effect of medieval earthworms on the surfdoms of Eastern Russia? What makes things like Hitler and WWII so widely studied and written about while other subjects lie virtually untouched? What exactly makes some people interesting, and others boring?

This brings me to an interesting question we've talked about in my history class--is there any way to really record and report on the "truth" since all history is based on someone's memory, and human memory is riddled with imperfections? I don't think that it will ever be possible to write the complete and truthful history of the world in this life--I'm hoping to be on that committee once I reach the other side. I'm not totally skeptical either though. I think it's kind of like Newton's Physics V. The Einstein Model. Sure, Einstein is closer, and more correct--but Newton is simpler, and he's correct enough for things to work out. I think that's the way that history works--sure we can't be totally right about every event that happened in attempting to reconstruct the past, but we can get close enough. I'm just hoping that as I write papers and reports and the like, that I won't run into someone in Heaven and find out that I interpreted their life completely wrong. Sometimes when studying poetry or short stories and the like, I often wonder if the people who wrote it and are now dead just sit there and laugh at the students who are analyzing their every word. I think it goes something like this:

Edgar Allen Poe: "What? They think that silly bird has some kind of meaning? HA! I just used a raven because it sounded better than 'quoth the cockatoo!' Kids these centuries!"

Robert Frost: "Yeah, that little 'miles to go before I sleep' bit was just me, whining about being tired. The misses used to hate it when I complained to her out loud, so I just had to write it down.

Shakespeare: "What about Hamlet? 'To be or not to be' was just the edited version of the script before that, where Hamlet tries to decide his future career. The original bit went 'To be a scruples-free, free-loading, usury collecting, freedom killing beast, or not to be?' The first guy cast as Hamlet couldn't remember his whole line."

Anyway, I think my point was that there is truth, and we shouldn't give up on it--keep getting as close as we can to it, but just realize the limitations. Again, as my history teacher said, "We've all got this Whale to eat, how are we going to do it? By taking one bite at a time--just realize that you're only taking one bite."

Unfortunate Realities

• If you make yourself a delicious tuna fish sandwhich with sharp cheddar cheese and do not remove the bowl in which you mixed the tuna, your room will smell like cat food about 30 minutes later.
• A half gallon of BYU Creamery Orange juice is taller than a regular glass of orange juice. This means that if you are trying to be slightly more civilized about drinking directly from the carton and you use a bendy straw, it can still fall into the drink.
• If the straw is bent, it will float on the top of the orange juice, tauntingly
• Even the best bagels can mold.
• No amount of procrastination will make you want to do your studying more--it just makes you want to find more things to do to procrastinate...like make silly lists about procrastinating.

Fine...Time to memorize Europe and Russia...

Falling Awake

I'm a really, really odd sleeper.

Recently, I've been reflecting on odd things I do when I sleep...or right before I sleep. I've come up with the following list of odd traits.

First, I make a funny sort of sighing noise when I'm right on between sleep and awake. This seems to be a recent development in my sleeping habits, as it now wakes me up on occasion, or it becomes the last thing I hear before sleeping. The unfortunate thing is that it doesn't just apply to falling asleep cozy in my bed at night...I also do it if I happen to be in a class and falling asleep. Thankfully, it's usually enough to wake me up. I was in a religion class a couple of semesters ago in which I started to fall asleep. Fight as I might, it didn't matter, I fell asleep...and did so right when the teacher finished a sentence. The situation went something like this:

Teacher: "The New Testament is a true book"
Me: "huuuh..." (this came out sounding skeptical)
The teacher then looked around to see who was disagreeing with his statement, and I sort of shrunk into my seat feeling blasphemous.

The second thing I do that's funny about sleeping is that I seem to stay in whatever position I fall asleep in throughout the night. Once, I fell asleep on my back with my hands clasped in front of me...sorta like "dead" Snow White, and I stayed basically that way. Yesterday, I flopped down on my bed in a manner that looked much like the typical body outline (see image at left) . Stayed that way all night...

I've also got an amazing imagination. I have really hilariously vivid dreams that I remember, about situations that would make really funny student films. My most recent odd dream that made me laugh a lot when I woke up involved a young man of whom I am very, very fond and his homecoming. He started dating another girl without telling me that we were no longer dating. I asked him about it, and he apologized very kindly. I asked him why it was that he wanted to date her instead of me, and he, apparently thinking I was too thin, replied, "She has more rolls than you." This may only be really hilarious to you if you know me in person, because while I am no whale, I'm certainly not on the verge of anorexia...I'm laughing about this right now as I write about it.

I do a bunch of other things in my sleep too sometimes--I talk, and sometimes with great vigor of hand motion...much like I talk whilst I'm awake. I occasionally grind my teeth...usually when I'm stressed out about something, or in an unfamiliar place. I also seem to be in the habit of trying to convince people how awake I am when I first get up by talking up a storm--I just keep going on and on in an attempt to wake myself up and show how intelligently coherent I am. Unfortunately, these conversations are never brilliant...much as I would like them to be. I generally try to talk to people about how rude it is for RM's to reach across people to get rollerblades, or about something that happened in a movie that I fell asleep in that I vaguely remembered and then incorporated into my dream. The things that come out of my mouth are very rarely rational, and very usually amusing.

Speaking of sleeping, it's now time for me to head back to class. It seems today that I can't really keep my eyes open, and so I've gone and done the logical thing...I've blogged about sleeping instead of taking a nap.

A Major By Any Other Name...

I've realized that looking through a lot of the classes that I've taken at school might make it look like I'm attempting to graduate with a degree in something really useful--like World Domination, instead of History Teaching with a physics Teaching Minor. For example. I have taken (or am currently taking) all of the following classes:

Totalitarianism (Political Science 458)
Russian (Russian 101)
Physics 121
European Fascisms (History 314)
Tsarist Russia (History 330)
Argentina (History 355)
Physics 123

Then you throw in those other silly classes that I've taken--Utah, Scandinavian Choir, American Heritage and the like...All just ways to round out culture right?

If BYU gets a "Build Your Own Major" program like they've got at some of the more liberal colleges...I know exactly what to go and talk to my counselor about....

My Little Brother is Awesome...

My brother is 13, and we were talking on the phone today. He asked how old the girls on my floor were and I told him that they were mostly 18. He interrupted me by trying to tell me what my mom had said about them by saying, "Mom says that they're all giggling Frenchmen...I mean freshmen."

My favorite mental image of the afternoon...a whole floor full of giggling frenchmen...

There's the Trouble...

So, yesterday I did something that most guys I've ever talked to about girls say that they want girls to do as soon as possible blah blah blah and it made me feel pretty terrible.

A guy from work called and asked me to go on a date. We went bowling and then had dinner...it was fun, but nothing spectacular....no sparks on my side at all. My favorite part of the date was when we were joined by Debbie and Jeff...the couple in their 40's who took a motorcycle ride down to Provo from American Fork for ice cream at the creamery. They were great. Anyway. This guy asked if he could call me again...I felt bad and said "sure" with a shrug.

I knew I should have qualified that....

Anyway, he called me later and asked if he could take me to Tucanos. He had a mission Buddy visiting from Brazil and they wanted some Brazilian food. This story needs some explanation too. Here goes: One of my other friends who was out here at school (I'll just call him J) the year before I came told me that I needed to find a guy who I could seduce and take me to Tucanos, because it was expensive, but really, really good. I told this story to some guys at work...This Guy being one of them...and we'd laughed at it. He asks me by saying, "I've never been there, and I know you've never been there..."

Thankfully, I had duty as an RA when he was going, so I didn't have to tell him that I didn't want to do anything with him anymore as a date. I know...it's cowardly, but I hate hurting people's feelings.

Well, I kept thinking about it, and feeling bad that I hadn't just told him. So I finally decided just to get over it and just call the guy.

So I did it. I actually told This Guy that I didn't like him at all, and that if we were going to do anything together, then I would pay for anything I participated in because it wasn't fair to make him pay for me when we weren't in any kind of relationship because we were just friends.

Now, that's not the part that I felt terrible with. I was honest, I meant it all, and I felt good that I wasn't just stringing the guy along when I knew there was no chance at all that we'd become anything more than just friends...maybe nothing more than pure acquaintances now...*sigh*.

The guy was really nice about it all, and kept saying that he totally understood and threw in a lot of "oh, yeah, uh huh." We decided that rather than going to see a movie in his apartment lounge it'd be better to go to the LRC and watch something there, just as friends.

Today he called to cancel that part too--he said, "I feel like you're just doing it to be nice to me."

Well...yeah...but it's not like I can say that to him. He picked up on it well enough though and the conversation ended with a "see you around campus."

Bah. I'm glad the situation is resolved, and I didn't make him pay too much for it...but yikes, I sure do hate messing with people's emotions. And although it'll be better for him not to waste his time on me...I still felt like a jerk.

Yeah...that's the end. I'm hoping this is a story I can look back on in a week or so and see that it was a real "good for Novel" moment.

Time Wasting 107

This is a little more advanced than just 101...

Anyway. I thought I'd blog a list of some of my favorite internet time-wasting sites...Why not? For your own time-wasting pleasure, Novel presents (in no partiular order):

How to waste your time on the internet:

• Crosswords
• Homestarrunner
• The Board
• The Sunny Side
• Only in Kenya...
• Badgers....
• Star Wars Gangster Rap
• Music Videos
• Making Fiends
  

More to come...

"Neighbors, You are Tedious!"

I'm currentaly watching Much Ado About Nothing with Wafflewitz and Phoenix. That's a line from the movie.

Education week individuals are currently staying on my floor. They're pretty nice people, much more pleasant to deal with than Women's Conference, though I'm ready for someone besides them to come and live on the floor. I'm ready for the girls who are all excited for freshman year to come, and for the older couples to go home and send their freshmen to college. This morning, I walked out onto my floor to the smell of Old Spice, and the sound of Men's Voices. I'm tired of seeing young punks on the floor who come and go as they please without any kind of asking. While visiting hours can be inconvinient, it makes things easier to keep track of...and it also makes sure that there are actual foods in the vending machines. Silly kids with signature cards.

Also, women can be so irrational. Beatrice just told Benedick that if he loved her he should kill his best friend. That's pretty much the stupidest idea ever. There's no reason that men should have to do some great act to prove that they love someone. It's the small acts and kindnesses that prove that--not some singular action. Oh Beatrice...how much you make Benedick suffer...and for what?

"Ah, women. They make the highs higher and the lows more frequent."
Friedrich Nietzsche

It's been one week since you looked at me...

That's the way I feel about life right now. I've been so insanely busy with so much stuff lately...moving, RA training, unpacking, class scheduling and the like, that I haven't stopped to look around for a little while. You know what? I think fall is on it's way. The mountains are browning more, the leaves on some of the trees are starting to change, and the days are getting shorter. It's even been cool enough outside at night on occasion that I felt justified in wearing a sweater...and that's pretty big news for me. You know what this time of year means? Sharpened pencils, new paper, some other random office supplies, education, clothes that feel new because it's the first time other people have seen them, and a sense of excitement...at least if you're me.

Guess what else happened today? I was at RA training, and for a second I got the greatest feeling of excitement for the other RA's there. Suddenly, I became aware of their potential, and abilities, and their excitement to be there, and I was so proud of them all. I don't even know the majority of the people there, and it completely didn't matter. I was proud of them, and excited for them, and knew that they had the potential to succeed, whether or not they chose to take it. I've been doing the same thing with everyone this week. I'm seeing so much good in people, and managing to look past things that would usually make me groan slightly internally, and getting excited about the good qualities of their personalities, and their potential. It's something that makes me so excited as an RA. I get to be the goofy excited person who has tons of energy and crazy creative ideas that are cool for one reason alone, and that's because I act like they are. People have a way of doing that too. Some of them are kind of nerdy, and some of them can be pretty sad sometimes. All they really need is someone who really does believe that they're cool, honestly and sincerely, and they start to feel like they're cooler.

That's the kind of person I want to be. The kind who's so fun to be around, and so alive and passionate about what she does, that as nerdy as it, or the people that I may be around are, it just doesn't matter, because I believe in it so strongly. Someday, I'll get there. For now, I'm going to keep trying to see the good in people, because everyone needs someone to see the good in them, especially for the times when they can't seem to see it in themselves.

Leverage, says you. I think I feel a change in the winds, says I.

You know, I'm kind of glad that the summer is coming to an end. I'm excited about having not too much to do for a couple of weeks apart from RA stuff. I'm really excited about not having classes, and I'm excited to get out of my end of summer slump, as it were.

I seem to go through times when I just get into a slump. The end of summer is one of these times. Usually though, it's only one of those times if I've spent the summer working and or going to school. At home last summer, I'd spent the summer working, came back to school, had some of the best two weeks of my life, and then was excited about school...though not as a release from the summer. Coming back to Utah was my release at that point.

This summer I've been going to school, and working almost full time all summer. It's been a long time. If I hadn't already promised to be an RA, I might consider just taking the fall off....

...that's likely a bad idea though. I'd get bored halfway through the semester, and then wonder what I was thinking thinking that I needed a break in the first place, and then I'd think I was a lazy bum, start working insanely hard, and then burn myself out halfway through winter and end up needing another break.

Way to regulate, Novel...way to regulate.

Anyway, I'm excited for the change. I'm excited for a new floor, I'm excited for new RA friends, and for new classes that are going to be fun, for working hard, feeling good about myself, getting to decorate my room, getting back into a routine that allows for regular accomplishments of little things that I've been terrible at doing for the past month (letter writing, laundry, room cleaning...bad Novel...bad). Things should work out just peachy. Thank goodness. If any of you are going to be bored/not busy next saturday, I'm going to be moving into my new place. Leave a comment or send me an e-mail if you'd like to help. I'm sure that I could provide some kind of refreshment for those interesting in helping out.

You know what else I'm looking forward to? Some alone time. RA training isn't alone in the least bit...but there are a few days where I get an entire floor all to myself. I get the room...and all the other rooms, paint, butcher paper, my own favorite music blasting however I like it, and time just to be all by myself.

Don't start to get me wrong. I absolutely love being around other people. I like my roommates, I enjoy spending time with them, I think they're great fun, it just feels like I haven't had a day's worth of hours to myself the entire summer...and even with wonderful people, that can start to grate on me (Lilaea and Uffish...don't you dare start to feel badly for yourselves ;).

Hurrah for getting to create something cool...for making a place that's ugly as anything look cool, and for feeling like I'm doing something worthwhile. Hooray for changing winds.

Happy Birthday to You....

Babies....Babies Everywhere!

You know what? I absolutely love children. I mean, it's not even just the occasional glance at a child with a fond memory of when I was a child. I really, truly adore the tiny beings.

Babies, especially, make me so happy. I find very little else in the world quite so satisfying as holding a baby and reaching that moment where they feel safe with you. You know that they love you, and they're just so...sweet.

You know, that's a really good word for babies. Sweet. Don't worry--I'm not on any sort of Swift kick here. I do not plan to eat any sort of child. They're just sweet. They smell sweet, they're soft, they're cuddly, and I love them. It makes me smile just to see one.

I'm really excited to get to be a mom someday. The idea that I get to take care of a small child all my own is definitely one of my happy thoughts. I'm glad that I don't have to do it right now...and I'm glad that I get to wait for at least a few years before having to face the rest of the reality of having children. For now though, it just makes me happy to get to see them, to get to hold them, and to know that someday, one day, I get the opportunity to have a family all my own.

*happy sigh*

Specialized Personalities

I've been thinking about people's personalities and marriage, which isn't surprising, I suppose, given that I'm a 20 year old female at BYU. It's something that seems to happen.

Anyway.

You know how we're always told that there isn't just one person that we could be happy in marriage with....That there are a lot of people out there with whom we could make a good, successful relationship and a happy home if we're just willing to work with them. Any two righteous temple-worthy adults, right? The idea of soul mates is one that has been (rightfully) denounced in the Church.

I really don't think I believe in soul mates, but I do think that there's a difference between not believing that there's only a single individual out there for you and believing that you could marry any individual who's righteous and be completely happy. Allow me to explain.

Some personalities are more generally compatible. It's kind of like majors. There are some majors and specializations that are easily applicable to any number of fields after graduation, things you get from most general education classes: basic history, principles of science, an appreciation of some of the more famous arts. Then there are things like specializing in the colloquialisms of the Mediterranean between the years of 1600 and 1741...Not something you can just bring up in regular conversation. Some people's personalities are the same way. There are the generally compatible with all sorts of people personalities, who have a wide selection of potential eternal companions because of the great number of people they'd be compatible with. Then there are the specialized personalities. These are people who are still wonderful, but they've got certain personality quirks that don't make it so that they could just have any old arranged marriage and make it work. There's absolutely nothing wrong with them, they've just got a narrower breadth of people with whom they could be potentially happy.

I think I'm a specialized personality, and I'm perfectly happy being that way. I get along with most everyone...But there are definitely a great many people whom I could rule out as possible marriage material; not because of any kind of unworthiness, but because I don't think we could be happy at all together barring some extraordinary change in their, or my personality. Don't start thinking that I'm walking down the street and picking out future husbands (not a chance), it's just something I've been observing as I've watched people run to get into a relationship and get married.

Something else that bugs me about other people's relationships is this: A lot of times when a girl is involved in a break-up she'll say something like, "Oh, I know there's someone better out there." I think the sentence needs to be changed. I don't think it's fair that a guy gets dumped on as soon as a relationship is over. Girls seem to do it all the time. They talk about how blind they were, how they never knew who the guy really was, or how terribly manipulated they were.

Girls, this is not fair. Sure there's someone else who's out there for you. And for you and your needs, he will likely be better. This doesn't make the guy who you broke up with scum, nor does it diminish his value as an individual. Some other person isn't better than him...He's just more suited to your needs and tastes. There are a few rare cases (generally involving abuse and the like) in which the guy really was a scum-bag, but a guy doesn't become scum just because he doesn't think your relationship is going somewhere. While break-ups are bound to be painful, don't dump on the guy, don't whine about how you didn' t know what you were getting into, and don't go being a jerk in general. Guys have feelings too, don't dump on them for dumping you, pick yourself up and move on. If you dumped him, fine. Don't talk about how you were wasting your time. Obviously there was something about the guy that you liked in the first place, or you wouldn't have ever started dating that person. Focus on the good, and move on.

Bunk Beds

Our apartment complex currently houses three girls to each room. This means that there are a set of bunk beds and a regular bed for each room. Currently, Uffish has the top bunk and I've got the bottom.

Now there are a great many good things about a bunk bed. You've got "tree-house" possibilities for the top bunk, and "inner sanctum"/fort possibilities for the bottom bunk. You can play drive through fast food restaurant, or weddings, and you get the comfort of knowing that one of your closest friends is right nearby in case you have a bad dream...Or something.

I've actually grown up most of my life with a bunk bed. There aren't too many downsides to bunk beds, at least in my opinion. I really like them. The only unforgivable fault they have is this:

Bunkbeds are horrifically inconvenient for being dramatic.

When I was little I would watch movies with the teenage girls in them where they would come home from a terrible day at school, or come in from having an argument with their mom or something, and then they'd toss whatever was in their hands on the ground, sob dramatically once, and then fling themselves onto the bed with their hair spilling gently over their arms into which their face was burried as they wept softly about how misunderstood they were.

I had a sort of sad wish to be able to reenact this scene in my own life. The only differences would be that I would be crying about something really worth crying about when I did it...And I'd have to do it on a bunk bed.

Finally, the day came when it was time for me to act out my scene. The day had been terrible--I'd gotten a C+ on a pre-algebra test, and it was time for me to go mourn my sorrows with my bed as my only solace.

Well...I ran into the house after being picked up from school, walked calmly down the hallway as to assure that I didn't alert my mother to my plight, and then threw the door to my bedroom askance, flung my backpack dramatically by the wayside, and ran to my bed to fling myself down.

Being entirely caught up in the moment, I seem to have forgotten the fact that I was the person who lived on the top bunk at this time. For being dramatic...That simply wouldn't do. No heroine climbs pathetically up the side ladder to melt unceremoniously onto her covers. No, no...For my big dramatic moment, I needed the bottom bunk. I decided that my sister wouldn't mind too terribly if I used her bed. I glanced around sorrowfully for effect, and then flung myself onto her bottom bunk. The only problem came mid-flight...As I seemed to have forgotten that there existed a top bunk. I ran my forehead into the top bunk as I tried to fling myself dramatically, and got flung backwards instead.

Needless to say, my dramatic moment was ruined. There was no weeping, no billowing soft hair, and definitely no comfort. All I had to show for my dramatic exploits was a bump on the head and a C+ on a pre-algebra test. What a waste of emotions!

I'm better now, I swear. Though I still get the urge on occasion to fling myself dramatically onto a mattress, I manage usually to repress the urge. I can now fully appreciate bunk beds for the space economization and their playful childlike qualities...

...At least until the next pre-algebra test.

Kids Talk About Love

Just another silly e-mail forward...but I thought it was funny.

"What does love mean?" These are answers from 4 to 8 year olds.

When my grandma got arthritis, she couldn't bend over and paint her toe nails anymore. So my grandpa does it for her now all the time, even when his hands got arthritis too. That's love.
Rebecca - age 8

When someone loves you, the way they say your name is different. You just know that your name is safe in their mouths.
Billy - age 4

Love is when a girl puts on perfume and a boy puts on shaving cologne and they go out and smell each other.
Kari - age 5

Love is when you go out to eat and give somebody most of your french fries without making them give you any of theirs.
Chrissy - age 6

Love is what makes you smile when you're tired.
Terri - age 4

Love is when my mommy makes coffee for my daddy and she takes a sip before giving it to him to make sure the taste is OK.
Danny - age 7

Love is when you kiss all the time. Then when you get tired of kissing, you still want to be together and you talk more. My mommy and my daddy are like that. They look gross when they kiss.
Emily - age 8

Love is what's in the room with you at Christmas if you stop opening presents and listen.
Bobby - age 7

If you want to learn to love better, you should start with a friend who you hate.
Nikki - age 6

Love is when you tell a guy you like his shirt, then he wears it every day.
Noelle - age 7

Love is like a little old woman and a little old man who are still friends even after they know each other so well.
Tommy - age 6

During my piano recital, I was on stage and I was scared. I looked at all the people watching me and saw my daddy waving and smiling. He was the only one doing that. I wasn't scared anymore.
Cindy - age 8

My mommy loves me more than anybody. You don't see anyone else kissing me to sleep at night.
Clare - age 6

Love is when mommy gives daddy the best piece of chicken.
Elaine - age 5

Love is when mommy sees daddy smelly and sweaty and still says he is handsomer than Robert Redford.
Chris - age 7

Love is when your puppy licks your face even after you left him alone all day.
Mary Ann - age 4

When you love somebody, your eyelashes go up and down and little stars come out of you.
Karen - age 7

You really shouldn't say "I LOVE YOU" unless you mean it. But if you mean it, you should say it a lot. People forget.
Jessica - age 8

Peeves...the Pet Kind

I should probably learn to better communicate these to people. I usually just end up sitting around irritated for a little while, until I learn to either deal with it, or fix the problem in a manner that irritates me less. Without much more ado...Allow me to present:

Novel's Eating Pet Peeves:

gulping sounds in the back of people's throats while drinking

clinking and scraping ceramic/porcelain/glass bowls/plates with metal utensils

talking with their mouth open--food spilling on their lap and other people

teeth scraping metal forks/spoons--eat the food, not the fork

shoveling food off plate and rushing off

ingratitude for a meal that someone's worked hard to cook--it's not hard to say a simple "thanks."

Novel's Kitchen Pet Peeves:

Moldy/bad/stinky food in the fridge or on the counter

having to re-wash dishes from the dishwasher because people didn't load it right or didn't rinse. Some machines are built to blast the food off with the bacteria...Others just sanitize the dishes you already wash. It's important to realize which one you've got.

utensil mixing in the utensil holder in the dishwasher (only when I'm loading)

putting utensils that are too tall in the utensil thing--just put them on the top shelf, please?

dishes being put away with food bits stuck to them...If they're not clean, they need to be re-washed.

open cabinets

Sounding OCD for bringing all this up.

I'm probably too protective of the kitchen right now--funny thing is though, that I only get this way when I've got to clean it myself, or part of it myself. If I get help, I'm all smiles and understanding. As soon as I have to do it alone though, I get grumpy.

Moral: Novel Hates doing most chores alone most of the time, and she needs to sleep.

Life is like...

I don't know that anyone else is going to understand this post...Oh well. Read on if you like.

Lately I've been feeling kind of like a patron in a really nice art museum. I'm walking around observing paintings of other people's lives and even participating in them sometimes, but sort of just passing through--much like Harry Potter I suppose...Except I seem to have lost my home frame.

I'm not really sure what it is. I'm just feeling...Less anchored perhaps? Not in certain things--the Gospel is still true, I'm supposed to be here in Provo, I don't need to cut my hair etc. All my friends are great, my life really is good. I'm just feeling out of place again I suppose.

Oh well, maybe the feeling will pass with time--I've just got to find my home frame again. Meanwhile, I'm just try and enjoy passing through everyone else's pictures, at least until I find the one that I fit into correctly.

Yeah...I don't quite fit into any of those pictures...

I Enjoy Being a Girl...

You know, as frilly as this song is...it really describes the way I feel at this moment:

When I have a brand new hairdo
With my eyelashes all in curl,
I float as the clouds on air do,
I enjoy being a girl!

When men say I'm cute and funny
And my teeth aren't teeth, but pearl,
I just lap it up like honey
I enjoy being a girl!

I flip when a fellow sends me flowers,
I drool over dresses made of lace,
I talk on the telephone for hours
With a pound and a half of cream upon my face!

I'm strictly a female female
And my future I hope will be
In the home of a brave and free male
Who'll enjoy being a guy having a girl... like... me.

Yeah...that's right...Novel Concept is really female. Surprise! Or not. :)

Anyway, Uffish and I have talked about this before. Girls (and guys too, I suppose, though I don't have any personal experience there) look good when they dress up mostly because of the way it makes them feel. When a girl wears a formal dress...the dress itself isn't really that pretty...and a lot of them are just difficult to wear, and uncomfortable to boot. The thing that makes the girls excited about them is the fact that they FEEL prettier. This means that whether or not they actually look any better than they do on a regular basis, they have more confidence, more happiness, and more excitement about the way they look because they think they actually look better. They walk taller, carry themselves with a better air about them, and smile more. Attractiveness is probably about 95% attitude--not in-your-face-don't-mess-with-me attitude, but charm, charisma, and being all around pleasurable to be around.

I used to think that putting any effort into the way that you looked was vain. I always wanted to be kind of like those girls in high school who are pretty and fun and popular, but I always told myself that I was being more real somehow, that I was being genuine, and that someday, I would be able to know that I had found the right guy by the fact that he would be overwhelmingly attracted to me no matter what--that I could walk down the street in my frumpiest pajamas having not showered for a week and he would somehow just know that I was the right girl for him. Me, in all my unwashed glory, could somehow be truer to my inner self by focusing solely on developing the inner qualities that counted, and then I could pray that the Holy Ghost would be the one to make up for any outer shortcomings that I might happen to have.

I think I also hoped for the classic ugly-girl on the weekday and then asked out on a pity date by the guy she likes and suddenly she shows up for the date and blows the guy away with her gorgeous contact-wearing, make-up bearing, stylishly clothed self and they fall madly in love because he knows her personality and now he's attracted to her to boot.

Sorry folks, but even having the spirit with you can't make it so that your outer physical appearance isn't entirely distracting. I've since greatly modified my views on the matter. While I still hope that my husband won't end up being completely repulsed by me even if we go for a week of camping and I'm wearing a cut pillowcase as a bandana to hide my unwashed hair that's still too short to put into a ponytail or french braid, I certainly don't expect that being an unwashed individual will allow them to become more focused on my radiant and sparkling personality...because it just doesn't work.

Physical appearance is something that's actually important. I still don't think that it's entirely necessary to spend hours getting ready to go to class, or that you even need to do a whole lot at all. I try to keep it to the basics--a shower, clean clothes, and a smile. Basically, I've come to think that you don't have to dress to wow people, but you should dress to make sure that you don't detract from your personality, or from people's desire to get to know you. Why do you think that missionaries have to wear suits, and keep a clean appearance? It's so that people think they're respectable, and don't discount what they have to say based solely on their appearance.

Anyway, I'm sure you all really wanted to know about this, but it's something I've come to realize the import of...and so I thought I'd share it.

Moral of the Post: Look respectable so that people are willing to get to know you and don't think you stink.

The end.

Insert Subject Here

You know, that IS always the hardest part of it. It being e-mail, blog entries, and the like. Moving on.

I really really love summer. I love the warmth, I love the breezes, I love the thunderstorms, I love the company, and I love the overall laid-back attitude that comes with it. I'm a pretty laid-back individual, and the feel of summer suits me pretty well.

I also love the ability to play in the water that comes with Summer. Swimming is one of my favorite things, behind a great many of my other more favorite things, but still up there. I also love water skiing, and have had a great desire to participate in such activity for a good couple of months now, unfortunately, I lack the funds to be able to do so at the moment...at least without the aid of someone who is already possessed of such things as boats, skis and a rope with which to tow me along happily. I look something like this: Novel Skiing

Alright, so I don't really look much anything like that. :)

Anyway, summer is great, and so is potato bread. Also, veggies...mmmmm. I LOVE vegetables.

"What can you expect from a woman? Her heart is as soft as her head!"

That's a quote from a movie version of the Scarlet Pimpernel...great quote, also...great comic.

Why Do You Build Me Up...

Buttercup baby just to let me down
Let me down
And boss me around and then worst of all
Worst of all
You never call baby when you say you will
Say you will
But I love you still
I need you
I need you
More than anyone Darlin'
You're all that I had from the start
So build me up
Build me up
Buttercup

Don't break my heart...

I I I I I NEEEED YOU more than anyone Darlin'! You're all that I had from the staaaaart. So Build me up, Buttercup, don't break my heart.

Sorry, I just had the song stuck in my head, and decided to share the love. Happy Summer All.

Santa Drives the UTA

So today I went on an adventure. It actually started last night, when I smashed my finger in a door of a car. It hurt, and so I put ice on it, and then hoped for the best. This morning, when I woke up, my finger was swollen, and it hurt to move it, but I headed off to class anyway.

Well, then I realized that I'd left my cell phone somewhere on a church step south of campus, and I was feeling a little stressed about that. So I decided it would be most prudent to leave class early and go to get it. I left, and walked down to where it was, and then called my little sister, who has knee surgery today. My finger started to hurt more, and so I decided I should tell my mom...just to do the good daughter thing, and I succeeded in freaking her out, which led to me calling everyone and their mom to try and figure out where my insurance would work...stupid insurance. I finally find a place in very N. Orem, right next to Lindon actually, and head over there on UTA.

The first bus is the 811. I get on and there's an overweight gentleman who's very talkative asking people about just about everything. He keeps asking this one girl who looks very nervous (it's her first semester at BYU) about things, and she looks as though she'd much rather just sit silently on the bus like everyone else. This bus goes to the transit station. Here I get off and get onto the 850. The same gentleman gets on again and begins talking to another young lady who apparently works with the homeless. She's decided to get tested for hepatitis as a result, and then randomly asks the larger gentleman if he knows anyone on a diet. He looks a little affronted and says that he doesn't, and he certainly isn't. She then begins to tell us how gall stones are linked to rapid weight loss, and how she's lost 70 pounds, but only about 1-3 each week. The gentleman decides that his stop is now, and gets off looking disgruntled, with a parting shot of, "I don't lose weight, and I don't gain it, I just stay the same." The bus was strangely quite after that.

Then I get to this place in Lindon that my insurance will work with. I get in there, explain the situation, and am then told that medical insurance isn't what will cover my injury, it's the owner of the car's car insurance, because it 's a car related injury. I can pay now though, and then go to the other insurance company and get the claim taken care of there. I asked them how much it would cost, they told me about $200.

Heck no.

It's a stupid pinkie. I mean, really. And it's on my left hand, and it's not at any funny angle. If it heals this way--that's fine with me. I promptly leave the clinic place and go across the street to the drugstore and buy some finger tape. I then tape my finger while I wait for the bus, get on the bus, and start heading home.

Here is where we meet Donovan and Judy. They apparently meet on the bus sometimes, and they share work stories. Judy has just started dating Vah-hah (I don't know how to spell it, but that's how it's pronounced). Donovan is sad, because he was hoping that he could date Judy, but he doesn't want to break up her 2 week old new relationship. To top this all off--Judy's hampster Harry died on Friday, and so she bought a new one--a more expensive one, who would be hardier, and less skittish. Harry was always so skittish. Skittish=Death. Now she's got Chewy, who's much less skittish, but he bites, and hard (What do you expect when you name it chew-y?). Sadly, this bus trip was then over. I'll never know what happened for Judy and Donovan.

Donovan actually boarded the 830 with me back to Provo, though he was too heartbroken to talk much. This bus was driven by Santa Clause himself--what an off-season job eh? He had this great jolly deep voice and every time he announced a street name I expected him to let out a belly laugh.

"550 West and University Parkway. Ho Ho Ho!"

Anyway, I'm finally home with my roommates and food. Mmmm...food time--what a morning though.

Elaboration

Alright, so I'm a bit addicted to 24. I'm currently in the middle of season 2 with Uffish and my sister (Who's out here for college, and living with me--I'm really excited aount it. :). So...I guess this is my question--does anyone have season 3 on DVD? If you do, and if you're anywhere near the Provo area, is there some way I can borrow it?

I could like...make you cookies or something....pleeeeeeeeeease?

Hello, My Name is Novel Concept

And I am a 24 addict.

...Cause it's Witchcraft....

So, this evening I had my third date in the past 10 months. The guy wasn't someone who was terribly attracted to me. He's just a guy in the ward. Our ward's friendship committee had set up something they called the "mandate." Basically, the thing was a ward activity that made you go in couples, and a guy in my ward asked me to go with him.

I think someone out there is practicing voodoo...

See, we get to the park and start throwing a frisbee and a football around with two other couples. About 45 minutes into the date, Senor Really-Taller-Than-I-Am dives for the frisbee and lands on his shoulder. Up to this point in the evening, he's dived for the frisbee multiple times, and it's been fine. This time, he doesn't get up, and he starts laughing nervously--clearly indicating that he's in pain. Finally, he gets up, and then we all head towards the car of one of the other couples. We all head to the ER, and poor Senor finds out that he's not dislocated his shoulder, as we all suspected, he's just managed to tear the ligaments off of two parts of his shoulder. This amounts to 6-8 weeks of a sling, a perscription for loratab, and then physical therapy.

Just to clarify, the first guy I went on a date with wasn't physically injured on our date, we all just played cranium and then went home--fun, but more of a group party. Woo hoo those RA's...what a lively bunch. :D

The second guy I went on a date with was a guy set up by my cousin so that I wouldn't be dateless when all the other RA's in our building went to preference...honestly, he wasn't my preference, but he was nice enough (he was also a freshman...). We stayed about a foot and a half apart that whole evening, and while he looked skeptical about ice skating, I decided to go and skate. He did a lot of complaining, and then claimed to have fun. He wouldn't look me in the eye whenever I tried to wave to him anywhere on campus, in the Morris Center, or in all of DT after that. Guess I ruined the poor kid somehow...oh well. Maybe his mission will help him forget all about the trauma.

Maybe I should start coming with a warning label.

Yarrrg...Whine..and a Couple of Tra la la's

That's how we laugh the day away in the merry old land of Novel's stressed.

I'm so bad right now that I just typed my real name there...oh well. It wouldn't be too much of a surprise for most of you.

Anyway. I'm really stressed right now...and so I'm doing all kinds of responsible things, like taking a break right now to write about how stressed I am instead of just finishing up what I'm working on to remove a source of the stress.

Basically, all my teachers decided to have the final papers and projects due on the last day of class, and I decided...ever so responsibly, that I would wait until the last week to get them really going.

Sooo dumb. Why don't I ever learn?

As a result, I've currently got 4 papers (1 4 page one is done...I have two 6-7 page papers left, and then a one page summary of a cspan thing that I haven't watched yet...) and two presentations (one on camping--that'll be fun, and one on the divide between the upper and lower class in America) all due on Monday. I've also got work tonight from 10pm-6am, church tomorrow at noon, and then the afternoon to finish up everything else that I need to have finished by 7:30 Monday morning.

To top it off, I'm feeling kind of grumpy because I have so much to do. I scheduled the shower I took right after work today, and then slept about 2 hours longer than I'd planned. Granted, I slept only about 6 hours, but still--it's too much. I still need to grocery shop and do laundry, and poor Uffish is stuck dealing with all of this because I'm her roommate. Even my mom got an earful when she called. Thankfully, everyone around me is being really nice and understanding and letting me vent about my frustrations--especially with group projects, but I won't go there at the moment.

Anyway, just as a side note--EFY kids are dirty little beasts when it comes to bathrooms. I cleaned the bathrooms in the WILK last night for 8 hours--and that's about how long it took to get their messes cleaned up. *shudder*

Alright, back to papers...see you on the other side.